I have, in the last 7 months, formed a close and very sweet and affectionate bond with a submissive remote from me.
I joined Second Life to explore what it was about. I had time on my hands, I was emotionally wrung out, I was curious, I was skeptical.
I talked to a lot of people there, it is like a series of chat rooms, with pictures… I didn’t ‘get’ SL D/s, but I was curious enough to see if I could make something of it.
With full disclosure that I was using him as an experiment, that there was nowhere for it to go, that I hadn’t a clue what I was doing, that it would head, inevitably, towards a car crash of an ending, I brought a lovely, thoughtful, sensitive boy in close to see what we could make of it.
His name is Angus.
He got a pretty piss poor deal with me as an ‘SL Domme’… I was not really able to make much of SL D/s… I moved him pretty quickly out of SL to IM, to email, to phone which gave me more of him, but didn’t change the fact that it was what it was… limited by the medium and with nowhere to go. I did not do cyber sex, I did not do SL BDSM play… I discovered that I don’t have the kind of immersion capability that you need for that to work. For all that most SL D/s relationships are built around remote wanking, he pretty much got ripped off. Regardless, we built something meaningful… sweet and lovely.
He got as much of me as I could offer over the many months that we talked daily, and he gave me as much control as I wanted to take, with a beautiful trust and an open heart. We had little rituals and structure, we spent hours chatting every day about anything that came up, we supported each other through some difficult things, he had rules to follow, I had expectations of his behaviour and he complied, we sent each other sweet gifts, we built something real and worthwhile with a subtle, gentle but strong and very affectionate D/s flavour.
And now, with me in the driver’s seat and him sitting patiently and trustingly beside me, I aimed the car at a tree, deliberately hit the accelerator and I crashed it… the car flipping over and over, flames, explosions, screaming and the smell of burning hair. It was inevitable, we both knew that, because there is nowhere for this thing to go, but it still hurts like a bitch.
As I look at the wreck of the ruined car, plucking broken glass out of my hair, a little shaky and off balance, I see him sitting there in the passenger seat, kind of broken and blank and unmoving. I move towards him and he shakes his head, doesn’t look at me.
I nod and leave a little note on the smashed up windshield, stupid, pointless, but I leave it anyway. It says sweet things, “I adore you”, “I am sorry”… words and some more words. I hope, in the end, he will think it was worth it.