This will be a short blog post, and scattered.

Underneath the art collection, the gorgeous condo filled with books and flowers, the Savile Row suits, the fact that he can be the most attentive and intellectual and polite gentleman in public…

…he is, at heart, feral. The Surgeon was the same way.  This one expresses it differently.

I never thought I would meet a man more extreme than myself (the Attorney proved me wrong, but he was an exception.) The Collector is. My part in this weird relationship is that I enable him to go crazy and indulge in whatever crazy fantasies come up in his mind. I make all of the sadists worse, because I’m fearless and have very few limits. I admit this.

Another thing he does is push and push my boundaries and limits. When I Top as a prodomme, I push just enough to make it exciting–nobody wants a boring session, unless they are a novice and scared to death. I don’t push hard enough to make them safe out.

The Collector pushes until I’m about to call it off, which really says something, and then he senses it and reels me back in by being gentle and letting me off the hook.  What I feel instead of anger is gratitude.

My last therapist, who thought my sadomasochism was pathological, actually had a point when he said, “You only cut off one of my hands! Thank you for not cutting off the other one!”

I care about my beauty, meaning my figure and my face. That’s how I make my living, at least partially. Otherwise, my physical integrity means nothing to me and never has.  Time will take its toll soon–I’m not a spring chicken anymore.  I still look conventionally “good” and can rock a bikini.

Dangled from an O ring in the ceiling? Perched on a 3″x 6″ whilst getting the single-tail (which, incidentally, I taught him how to use)? All of the games?  The Collector, unlike the Surgeon, is creative. He always has something new to use on me.

This shit with his boys…?!  He actually told Elder One–in English, in front of me–“My girlfriend is more beautiful than yours.”

I wanted to die. Why is he competing with his son?

I’m sorry to lay this on my 8 readers, but I can’t talk to anyone else.

Thanks for reading this bummer of an essay.

5 thoughts on “COMPLAINING and CONCERNED”

  1. He’s competing with his son because he doesn’t love, he controls and torments. Does he love his children? Does he love you? Is he capable of loving?

  2. He’s competing with his son because he doesn’t love, he controls and torments. Does he love his children? Does he love you? Is he capable of loving?

  3. Based on your blog over the years, which I have immensely enjoyed, you are repeating a pattern. You’re masochistic in the bedroom and used to controlling relationships even though they keep going too far.

    The Surgeon competed with all people too right? That’s the way he was built. The Collector is similar and seems more practiced in people manipulation. The moment both of them thought they lost control of you, they went batshit insane, trying to convince you through fear to not leave rather than stay out of love.

    Why? Because their version of “love” is about ownership of an object rather than an empathic form of love where they care on deeper level that you are happy. On the flip side they don’t care what you do as long as you please them and don’t make them look bad.

    Maybe read the raisedbynarcissists reddit subgroup to get an insight?

    As for competing with the son, who doesn’t the Collector compete with?

    1. Thank you, Mark, for your extremely thoughtful and heart-felt reply.
      I appreciate it.
      I will read it again (and again) in contemplation . Maybe will also look at the reddiit subgroup, though reddit’s always been a tossup. I’ll take a look, though.

      The Collector does not compete with me…perhaps because of the dynamic of our relationship. In the rare incidence I do something better than he, he is proud of me.
      Please continue to comment at much as you like, Mark. You contribute much food for thought.
      Thanks for reading.

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