Whips and Chains Excite Me
Submission is weakness... or so it seems.
I have had a very long and stressful week when I had a conversation with a dear friend of mine. We hadn't talked in a few weeks, however, we spoken as though it's been only hours since we had utter the words, "Hi."
Jenna had been a good friend of mine since I had moved to San Francisco years ago and this past week was annual, "Let me check on you, tell you how horrible of a person you are for leaving me, but I love you," via FaceTime. I speak with her often so this time, I made sure that I was prepared for my "self-esteem" beating. This time, however, she wasn't her bubbly self, but very withdrawn and solemn.
She had been crying, her brown eyes puffy from hours of tears and immediately, I asked, "Whats wrong?" What I didn't expect was the reasons as to why she was so sad that despair was written all over her face. She looked empty. No smiles, but empty.
Jenna begins to tell me a story about a couple that she had gotten to know over the course of the past few months. A married couple but not the traditional monogamist relationship. Polygamist relationship that she happened to be apart of. At first, that shocked me since I had never pictured her being apart of a relationship that she would have both a man and a woman. But, with a married couple? Was she crazy? My personal feelings aside, I listened to the quarrels in which she was currently going through.
It was going well... really well, in her words. She got to spend time with the wife, in which, she had started to fall in deep like for; meanwhile, falling in deep like for the husband and to her; they felt the same about her. So she had thought. My cynical ass thought, "It not gonna last long, things like this don't last long."
As though she read my thoughts, she said, "It was all too good to be true."
Jenna had fallen in love with the couple, however, the wife told had told her that she, "didn't go THAT way." She tried to understand what that actually meant. They would go on little dates, Jenna getting in touch with her romantic side by pulling the stops out. Rearranging her schedule to match her days off and was eager to spend time with her. Though the wife apparently didn't identify with being "bisexual;" Jenna felt that she was. She said that she didn't lose hope that the wife would actually consider her, her girlfriend. I respected that about Jenna, her level of "hope" and "faith" in everything that she did and in people. It sadden me to know that it wasn't reciprocated the same way but Jenna continued on.
The husband had shown Jenna things that she never allowed herself to see or experience with men. Courting. Gentle kisses and touches but one that made my ears perk up was that she explored BDSM with him. She had grown to trust him which she started to tear up talking about it. As I tried to comfort her, the tears fell. Trust was a fleeting thing for Jenna, which she didn't have for any man she allowed into her life. She had always keep it zip-less, emotion-less but somehow, he had pulled every emotion out of her and she was receptive. Welcoming. Curious. Her walls were coming down over time and she began to open the doors of her "sexual potentials" Luckily, so was the wife and they had all explored the world of "Dominance and Submissive." Picturing Jenna as "submissive" was harder than picturing a cat playing "Chopsticks" on the piano.
She explained how she would submit to every action in which was preformed on her and she loved it. She felt that she didn't need to be the strong willed woman that she had grown to be but someone who needed "punished" and "tamed." Nipple clamps... whips... chains... handcuffs, everything that BDSM entailed, she would indulge. Leaving her tried, worn out, sore as fuck but satisfied. She told me of a time that she was blindfolded and the mystery of the unknown made her climax to the point of what could be describe as an "epileptic seizure." I asked what happened once she did and she chuckled.
"She pushed my spazzing body away from her."
The disconnect of emotions in that moment made her feel like she was nothing. Her physically response to over simulation was discredited and thrown to the side. I asked her if that made her feel some kind of way. She brushed by my question and further spoke on the now, puffy eyed hurt that wasn't apart of the whole gig. I knew, however, it bothered her. Jenna was someone who ached for someone to hold her close. Especially in those intimate moments and knowing that the couple allowed the extent her vulnerability to somehow be a issue, made my eyes narrow in dislike.
"Jenna, if they made you feel like your sexual response is an irritation, why did you continue this whole tripod relationship."
"I love them."
"You can't love them."
"It's hard to explain."
"Then, explain it to me."
Jenna ached for connection with someone... anyone that would or even could handle her sexual hunger. Yet, I had seen instances in which she would believe that what the person was doing, acting towards them was "love." Knowing she had allowed herself to be apart of a relationship, a shared one, shown me that her ideas of "love" was still in the infant stages even now as an adult. I wasn't even sure if Jenna actually know what love really was.
"I trusted them. I opened up to them. And now..."
A situation had occurred on night after work which had lead to her calling me, sad. Jenna had gotten off work and she had order a Uber to go to their house for the evening. A usual thing that she would do when she had gotten paid and wanting to release the stress in which her job had entailed. During the ride, she had gotten friendly with the female driver and somehow manage to speak about her "alternative sexual lifestyle." Shockingly, the driver was curious and wanted to see what it was about. Jenna went on and said that once the wife had opened the door and saw the driver; she was not happy, however, allowed her in. They had hung out, gotten to know the driver and from what Jenna thought; everything was going well. It was not until the wife had made note that people should be heading out did she realize that she might have messed up. Somewhere. She told me that the couple was not at all pleased to what she had just done. They were, in fact, pissed. Innocently, she apologized for what she had thought was a harmless act. Inviting a voyeur to experience something Jenna thought was something they would be OK with. The wife had explained it to Jenna, telling her to leave and Jenna ended up taking another Uber home.
"What did they say?"
"I had left messages of 'I'm sorry' and nothing."
"Only, 'I'll hit you up.'"
She cried harder, which made me feel her pain of those three words. They never do. They never will. That was a hard pill for Jenna to swallow, especially since she had said that she "loved" them.
How could she have known that the outcome was going to end with her ultimately alone. The husband and wife will always be just that. Husband and Wife. Ordained by God. Jenna was never gonna be a part of that, just only a character in their story and now, a memory. Jenna said she outreached to the husband once again and the messages were left on read. I insisted that they will eventually come around, and that they can repair whatever was broken; I lied. I knew the sad truth and lived it very well.
Jenna had since left social media, in fear of being hurt by whatever action that they would end up doing that she would feel was targeted to her. She didn't want to navigate through her feelings and found some comfort in her job. I knew Jenna to hide her feelings, throwing herself in whatever was available at the time. Yet, I knew she was brokenhearted and someone who walks around with a broken heart; she was now a empty shell of herself and the light she once had was now gone again.