In which I try and get used to saying I am poly, because I so obviously am.

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I’m poly. But I don’t say it much. I am ten million times more out about being dom in my day to day than I am about that.

I don’t really know why that is.

I don’t talk about being poly that much on this blog, because this blog is about femdom being broken. Poly isn’t really broken. It’s more not finished. But I am going to talk about it now. Insofar as I can. Obviously, poly is different for different people. And, you know me, I only have a very passing interest in other people anyway. But this is how and why it does for me.

I live with a wonderful man. He’s not only a dirty devil. That’s just the start. He is very, very attractive with enough Jewishy/desert-dwelling-ancestry blood that his pitch-shaded eyebrows jut out on a huge shelf above his eyes.

Such strong defined monochrome features that he looks better without hair. That’s a good benchmark for an ultra good looking man. If a shaved head makes him look masculine-moody rather than baby-faced.

He has a wonderful, dark-hair-defined body and five piercings that you can only see when he’s naked.

I’m talking about Pan. You knew that.

He’s the smartest man I ever met. He’s supernatural smart. You can’t look directly at him while he’s thinking – it’s too dazzling. If I ever want to win an argument, I go ask him what to say. (If I want to win an argument with *him* – I have to use violence.)

He’s obsessed with sex. He has a higher sex drive than me – and mine could probably power inter stellar travel. He *never* *ever* says no to sex. He would say yes to sex right after he’d had sex.

He just bought a white lab coat from the army surplus because I expressed a vague kink in that direction. Doctors and nurses. Doctor, Daddy, Butch. Totems of male authority. All fall down. Or something. I don’t know. Maybe I just want to pretend he’s Gaius Baltar.

He likes perversion. Any form of perversion. If it would be met with shocked disapproval in the wider world, he’ll do it. I got him into the CB with this. He likes to be tied up. He likes pain quite a lot. He’s a masochist. He’s a pretty good actor and way better at role play than me.

He’s not a submissive.

And I’m a dominant.

There are spots he can never hit. Because even though he is happy to play submission games he is not a submissive. And there’s a difference. I like submissive men. A lot.

After about five years with Pan I think I came to the end of the sort-of-submission he had for me. Don’t make a mistake about this. Pan fulfilled me totally for a long, long time. He holds the record. The gold medal. He crawled and begged and licked my flat patent Mary Janes. He let me piss on him and burn him. He begged me to cut him. We went to Fetish Fairs and clubs. We did the scene a little bit. We bought all the kit I still use now.

This morning, when I told him which nipple clamps I’d used on Jack last night (one of the first pairs we ever bought) he said, ‘Fuck, poor bastard, those are the hardcore ones.’

(Jack later said, ‘God yes, you could connect train carriages together with those.’)

But things shifted. Changed. He changed. Twist my arm and I’ll tell you he got a lot more emotionally healthy. I don’t like that fact anymore than you do. But that’s how that part worked out for him. And then he didn’t really enjoy subjugation in the same way. He didn’t need it or crave it. And I missed that.

You don’t have to say it. I know. He isn’t typical. He – it turned out - was using submission to work through some stuff. Though most submissives aren’t, that was how it happened with him.

And me? I’m dominant. I’d still be dominant even if I cured myself of all my psychotic personality quirks.

And then, his job changed. And he was suddenly incredibly busy. And I came up with this idea (being, as I am, in his recent words, ‘intolerant, attention seeking, high maintenance and annoying’). An idea to keep me out of his way.

Picking up submissive men off the internet and having sex with them in hotel rooms.

It seemed like a good idea at the time. And it was. It still is. Mostly. (Let’s talk about all the when it wasn’t another time.)

Pan was 35 on Monday. And last night, when Jack put his pierced tongue on my cunt for the first time, I could see Pan’s birthday cards on the mantelpiece. I had bought him one with a still from Grease on the cover. A picture of John Travolta dancing around the car singing Greased Lightening.

Some days Pan’s the sun and some days he’s one star in a constellation.

I like this. I like poly. I don’t know if it’s a sexuality for me like being dom or being straight. I don’t even know if it’s a kink. In my case, it serves a sexual need, but it’s mostly meeting an emotional need.

There’s a lot of relationship pain amongst my real life friends right now. And a lot of it seems to be related to people not get enough sex – or maybe enough sexual attention. Meanwhile friends who know various degrees of how Pan and I relate to each, other praise our relationship. Tell me how great it I that we are so open with each other, so happy with each other, so sexual with each other, fuck such a lot. We have a lot of separate interests. We spend a lot of time apart. We don’t even sit and watch TV together in the evening. He plays a lot of computer games. I go online. We’re both freelance so work evenings. If we go out together ina group of friends, we mix; we often don’t talk to each other much unless we’re fighting.

Meanwhile I know what you’re thinking. Does all this poly talk mean Pan is available sexually?

Up until recently Pan didn’t see other women. I guess he didn’t have the same specific unmet itch. And he’s been busy. Orc wars, you know. But recently he has been talking about his fidelity more. It’s harder for men, I think, with this poly thing. Harder to find casualish sex partners or people interested in sexual relationships that will never end with a traditional happy ever after. But I’m very excited about the potential that he might.

Oh, and he has talked about the idea of men as well as women a little too. That’s interesting isn’t it? Still not sure where that’s going.

Or any of it. No one gave me a map. But that’s okay. Because I’m not going anywhere particular and I’ve got a lifetime to get there.

Once a good friend of mine who was in a new relationship told me she had sucked her new man’s cock so well he had said, ‘You know, baby, sometimes I just want to pass you round my friends so they all know what I’m getting.’

I know just what he meant.

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