In Tatters

I knelt at His feet in the utter mess I’d made. My struggle to succeed was stark. No one had ever seen me so disheveled…in such embarrassing circumstances. As He cleaned me up for the second time two minutes, I looked up to meet His steady gaze and tried to gauge his reaction. Disgust at another disastrous, completely unimpressive act of service? Frustrated at my inability to get it together? Sadistically amused at another ridiculous unglamorous predicament I’d once again found myself in? I knew he was taking in every fucking minute detail of the wreck before Him and squirreling it away in the vault of His mind, but what did He feel? His stoic expression offered me no hint. Without comment He stood firm in front of me. Fuckin unwavering. He hadn’t walked away. He hadn’t stepped back. I swear He may have even leaned in. As soon as I’d semi-collected myself, I began my third attempt even as I tried in vain to push the remaining proof of my ineptitude out of view, hoping it would simply

service Top Costs | Payment Due

*(WIP | Raw Copy)*

Top space...
Epiphany...I guess i do Service Top.
Every time i host a group/give a presentation I shift into Top Space mentally, emotionally, physically.
I do what I do out of service.
To share what lil knowledge I have, so that maybe it helps someone a small bit on their own journey as they search for answers and understanding. If I’m lucky, I’ll learn a thing or two myself.  So...

Service Top.

The costs...fuck me but the cost can be brutal. Don’t get me wrong...I enjoy the energy in the moment. In fact there is absolutely joy when those I’m in service to get excited about the thing or find a crumb they’ve been searching for. But don’t believe for a moment that automatically shoves me to the right side of the slash.

It’s the aftermath that reveals the truth. When mental, emotional, physical exhaustion overwhelms me from all the soul energy I had to expend to do the thing and do the thing well. In the post-event hours, my /s-side is left naked and exposed and begging for the safety and comfort of an M/‘s guidance and protection.  My slave longs to rest in His shadow and give up control of every fucking thing I hold together singlehandedly. I don’t want to think. I simply ache to follow.  My rawest most fundamental truth lays bare before me with no avenue for comfort or solace.  No, wonder all I want to do is cry.  I’ve left my truest unprotected and alone.

Fuck me...the cost is steep, but I cannot put my service, my journey, my life on hold waiting for a maybe someday Him to guide and protect me.  I’ll recover. I always do.
~DominaKat

Note | Didn’t edit. Don’t give a fuck right now.

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