No, it’s worse.

You finally admit that you can’t have a sub under your ruling who wants to have you all to himself.

Let me repeat that, because it sounds vaguely important.

You had to release your sub, because he wanted to be only yours 4EvAh,  and you couldn’t give him that.  You could  give him everything else–harsher control, more discipline, greater strictures….you could pull the demon skin on and make him ache in new places….you could snarl and command and step on him in your stilettos and give him rules to follow.

But you couldn’t say to the fellow on his knees, yes, I will marry you, you will be my one and only, my slave, my husband.

Because that was ridiculous.

Now, before anyone here starts to get ruffled, my all of one-point-three readers, let me point something out–some of you have *healthy* subs.  Mine was broken when I got him and backslid to a more submissive place.  It wouldn’t be a marriage of equals, even in the mold of domme/sub.  It would be a farce.  Plus, he wanted *fidelity*.  He wanted to *be* mine, he wanted me to have *no* one else, and for me to have only him.

So.  You’re stuck with saying goodbye.  Now you have to find a new mistress for him, ‘cos you said you would.  *Now* what the hell do you do?  Because the only one that *maybe* you’d trust him with just got hit by a truck.

In RL, not SL.

Jesus, what the hell next?

Next, my computer is finally out of gulag–after over a month of delays and general wtf.   First it was verifying that the parts in the blown unit were any good; then it was Sysperia saying, screw this, I need you functional, we’re sending you a motherboard and processor, and here’s my credit info (which was OMFGscary!!), buy two memory sticks.

Yeep.

But all the parts came in in three weeks, we could get to building–and then more delays, because things weren’t synching up right.  Dear gods, everything that could go wrong, did go wrong, so damned frustrating.

But now?  Have it back.  And I hope it lasts.

Toll of the last six weeks, since I lost my computer:

* significantly damaged, if not lost, one relationship;

* lost another entirely, no hope of recovery;

* had to stop my escorting career dead, due to lack of privacy;

* had to scramble to pay rent twice, due to lack of escorting;

* damaged a friendship-with-benefits, because I kept having to tell him, yeah, I know, I want to, to, but there are kids in the room;

* lost my dancing career, because the laptop wasn’t beefy enough to handle Dorian Gray’s constant particle bursts;

* scattershot connection, depending on whether the kid who’s laptop I was borrowing needed it.

Overall?  Glad I have the computer back, wish it could have happened without me damaging several relationships and losing two careers.  Frankly.

Apparently, treating him more harshly? Isn’t working either.

I gave him a task. I was very clear in this task. He was to build me two things. The first, to be delivered in the short term, was a kneeling cushion. I was very clear in what he needed to do this.

* learn to build

* build a cushion

* texture the cushion

* build a sphere

* find a kneeling pose for the sphere

* install the pose in the sphere along with a control script

* link the two objects

* give them to me.

Yes, this was a large task. But doable. Follow the tutorials at Ivory Tower, talk to us if he had questions, and build.

I did not expect genius attempts. But he failed in this task. Self-admitted. Without, I should also add, asking us at all.

The day he told me he was giving up? He started that day by not messaging me when he got in world; followed with not greeting those I was with when I brought him in; followed by telling me–telling his dominant–yet again–what he wanted from me.

I admire open communication. All dominants do. I do not want or need my submissive to tell me what he wants, in a “you need to do this!” tone.

After a bit all the little errors went beyond irritating and I said the thing I’ve never said to any submissive under my care–that perhaps I need to find him a new Mistress.

Commence loud wailing.

But…I may not be the Mistress for him. I may need to find someone who can both cuddle and cut him up, when he needs. Because that’s not me anymore…

So. Yesterday. You stand in a sim that has announced a roleplay event. There will be battle. There will be puzzle-solving. There will be cash prizes. But first, there will be a briefing.

If, during the briefing, the woman giving the briefing crashes twice, her co-counsel crashes once trying to take over for her, and half the particpants log off due to lag…don’t you, mayhap, have just a wee bit too much in the way of active scripts in your sim?

I’m very curious. Because that level of lag, when there were less than twenty people in the entire sim? I’ve seen less lag when I’ve been in sims with forty avatars. It was unusual and draining, and it’s not just the grid being wonky.

Bah.

Then he apologizes.

The problem, as I see it, is not that this happened, that he reacted this way.  The problem, as I see it, is he’s rejecting how I’ve been training him.  I’m not the leather-bound dictator of rules and regulations.  I keep few pets; those I do I honor; those pets I train I train to be powers in their own right.  Submit, yes, but choose to submit.  Accept your choice.  If you are on your knees before me, want to be there, know you are choosing to be there.

Why is this difficult?

But somehow it is.  He wants every decision taken out of his hands, and I don’t function like this.  I want active submission, I want his mind, not just his body in a selection of pretty poses. If I wanted furniture, I’d buy it.  Hells, I’d build it.

But he wants stricter treatment, harsher control.  Fine.  But this is the very nature of be careful what you wish for…and even with that, I’m going to insist he thinks, or leaves.  I won’t have an empty shell in service.  I refuse.

In the meantime, looking up “rollercoaster” under Search gives you Short Beach, which leads you to Long Beach, both of which contain a split amusement park with several rides. Haven’t tried any of them yet–we found it v. v. late–but I’m terrifically amused at the whimsy.

*hangs head in mock shame*

This won’t be updated as often as the Train Wreck, I shall warn you now.