Is not to panic.
I tell myself this internally over and over a few times as I strain to concentrate on the television. My puppy lays just under my chin, his soft brown tresses brushing my lips.
Shit, he’s asked me something and I’ve completely missed it while inside my own head.
“Mmm hmmm,” I hum softly as if that’s a proper answer before retreating back into my thoughts.
It’s all becoming more and more real by the day…by the hour. We’ve spent the past month talking, planning, waiting, and trying not to freak out. After the visa appointment went so well it was off to do the holiday rounds and seeing as how I’m away from my family, puppy wanted to include me in his. I was very grateful but also a bit nervous. I’ve been in the who-are-and-what-are-you-doing-with-our-son hot seat one too many times not to realize it’s an important piece of any relationship puzzle…even one as complex as our D/s one. It wasn’t the interview-like questions from relatives, small talk with people who thought my accent was funny, or even trying to explain to his Grandma the perks of owning an Apple watch that had me on edge. No. It was the dirty little secret of ours, that he was all locked up for me like a pathetic slut while we played charades and drank wine like an innocent vanilla couple, neither of which we are.
The important people already know he is about to do what is probably the craziest thing of his life. Yet, no one can stop him. I’m not entirely sure they want to.
Tomorrow he puts in his resignation and with any luck this time next month he’ll just be entering his new life as my pet 4,000 miles from his birth home. He’s giving up his family, his friends, his job, his car, his apartment, everything that is familiar to him…but he’s gaining a Mistress.