Past week has been a busy one.
I ordered and received 6mm and 4mm hemp rope, 40 meters each. Cut them in 8 meter lengths then treated them. I choose not the wash the rope. It takes quite some time for the hemp to dry and it is something I can’t do in my house. So I have an extra reason to long for sunny and warm days.
I also got a small bottle of 100% Tsubaki oil from the Esinem store and a Campingaz thingamabob from a local store called, I kid you not, Franco’s Campingshop.
I use this small and cheap gas-burner to burn off the fuzzes.
I treated the 4mm rope with the Tsubaki oil. This rope will be used for finer work. Princess has small hands so this rope matches better her body. This rope will not be used for suspension, only for decorative work.
For the 6mm rope I used baby oil just to see the effect. This rope will not be used for bondage but as suspension lines.
So now I own a nice collection of rope and I am eager to use them on and with Princess. I’m also going to make as much photographs as I can. Not only to share but as a witness of my progress.
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I had postponed writing an article for a Dutch informative site about BDSM way too long. It is a serious website and when I got a mail asking when they could expect my piece I tapped myself and started writing. It felt awkward, writing something about the lifestyle in my mother tongue.
It is about mind fucking. The technique, tips and tricks, dangers and a few examples. I make a difference between mind fucking and mind play. The first is about creating a make-believe situation, the latter about spicing up your partner’s fantasy (during play and/or sex).
I mailed it yesterday and this morning they replied telling me they loved it. I’ll probably will do more stuff for them in the near future. It is not on commission but that does not bother me. I do get the satisfaction of writing and documenting it thus learning stuff.
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One of my FB friends, a writer, asked who wanted to read her work in order to weed out typos. I volunteered and she accepted my help knowing English is not my mother tongue.
During the past few days I received a mail for every chapter. I read them out loud, one of the few advantages of living alone.
I had fun doing this. I learned a few things about the English language and because some French was used (I speak 70% of my time at work French but that does not mean I’m good a writing it) I had to check a few things I wasn’t sure of with a colleague and, yes, learned something.
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Past weekend, Saturday to be more precise, marked the 5th commemoration of the death of the father of Princess’s kids.
Obviously Princess’s place was with her kids so I only saw her Sunday evening. It was not for the first time since I know Princess I felt the excruciating pain of being alone.
I also had a sad thought about this anniversary.
When I met Princess little over 4 years ago and the first 2, 3 years thereafter, I felt sad for her kid’s loss. I could emotionally connect with them and when Princess told me about their boyfriends and studies and whatever, I was truly interested. I even crossed my fingers when some of them went for their driver’s license.
Today I don’t give a fuck about them anymore. I am fed up with their intolerance and hate towards me.
They think I am not good enough for their mother but they fucking don’t even know me. How pretentious!
It is not about not understanding the mechanisms of mourning and grief. But in my book it sure as hell does not give a hall pass for being intolerant, hateful, impolite and disrespectful.
The prospect of spending the rest my life being rejected, not wanted or an object of fierce discussion before every family moment has become a huge burden.
In December last year I almost ended our relation.
It is not only about the kids of course. There is also Star, Princess’s grandchild, who lives with Princess because Stella, her mother and Princess’s eldest daughter, is unable to take care of her child. I’m sad to say that I don’t believe Stella will ever be okay enough to be a full time mother. So Star will stay with Princess who is her legally assigned foster-mother. That too will be a huge problem as Princess’s kids don’t want me in Star’s life and even worse, her mother doesn’t either.
It would help if I noticed some progress but over time their positions have only hardened. Last year I had the opportunity to talk with one of them, Ar, 22. I am not like Princess, I do not take their shit for granted. It did not end well as I refused to bow, they are just kids, they do not run the show. So she ran away, screaming, when I told her that she nor her sisters or brother could stop us living together or getting married. Princess is still mad at me for not being soft on her. Yeah sure.
Anyway, Princess and I were together Sunday evening. We did some rope bondage and made love and then went to bed.
Happily I slept well because I really needed a good night’s sleep. I don’t sleep well lately as my mind is to busy with all that drama around me.
I am aware there is not much Princess can do but on the other hand I do think she really underestimates how much all this is starting to weigh on me.
I’m way in my fifties, I am longing to settle down. I have no outlook on that but I’ll guess I’ll be in my sixties. Living where? No idea. Princess has renovated her house but her kids have made it clear they would never allow me living there. If one of them decides, after their studies, to stay home with mama I’m fucked. I’m thinking Princess needs to grow a bunch balls.
I am fed up being most of the time alone, going for a walk alone, whatever. Last time I phoned Princess outside “our” time was an experience I don’t want to repeat, even if I’m dying.
I am still madly in love with Princess but I fear that the day where I will feel the balance of pros and contra’s to be way off to the latter, is coming very close.
Princess won’t like what I’ve written but I can’t help it. After all this is our story, Princess and I, for better and for worse.
I can only hope that, in a very near future, we’ll look back on these moments, happy we overcame all this shit.
Being even closer than ever because of it.
When I started this blog I decided not to mention what really happened. I think is was because I feared doing so would expose who we, Princess and I, really are. That it would erase our anonymity. It is, in fact, more about protecting Princess’s anonymity.
I am aware that my part of the story is a biased one. Albeit I try to be objective about the matter I can’t because I am in the middle of it.
The Father spend the better part of his last 10 years in psychiatry. Numerous are the times he called his wife and children around the table to tell them he wanted to end it all. I believe one of the kids once arrived just in time.
I know him from a reportage on television. He was an artist who made beautiful but intriguing metal sculptures.
Finally Princess and The Father divorced. After that, I can’t say if it was a year or more later, on the day Princess held her birthday party, the kids found their father whom had finally decided to end it. They decided to go to his place and say hi. They stayed with him for more than an hour before help arrived.
I cannot start to imagine how this must have been for Princess’s kids. I know what she told me though and the grief of her children indescribable.
I do understand how Princess’s kids see me as the enemy, the man who should not be there, at their mother’s side.
Really, I can relate to that.
On the other hand…