Being My Own Sir Starts With Red Latex

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In the last post from my story, Fresh Air and Big Skies, I shared how Sir had received a new contract. One which would take him out of contact for a long time. Some tasks were set but restrictions were otherwise lifted. The final request of me was to make myself happy. I also realised that my love for him was freeing, not like the fearful attachment of my abusive marriage or cheating exes.

Now all I had to do was take that love for him and reflect it back onto myself.

I had no desire to hop from my dynamic with Sir and skip into a relationship elsewhere. No, that wouldn’t work. There is always a grieving period when our paths diverge, whatever the reason, and I would need to let it run its course. But I knew that there would be light at the end of the tunnel. That the sadness would ease although, just like grieving the loss of a parent, it is not a linear process and sometimes the pain of loss will strike unexpectedly. No matter, for now I had a job to do. I had to make myself happy!

Where to start…? Let’s try being my own Sir.

I took mind way back to the start of my time under Sirs watchful gaze, a weekend of tasks where I was to be my own Sir, create my own tasks, entertain him and stretch myself. Only now I would be entertaining me instead of him, as I attempted to step into his shoes. They are very big shoes to fill!

I had recently taken delivery of my first latex catsuit. My adventures in rubber thus far had never quite felt like the had a role in power exchange for me. My friend LatexC was not dominant, and even if he were I certainly wasn’t submissive towards him in any way. Nor was I dominant towards him. It was just a fun, kinky past-time. His fetish, my fun. But when I put the catsuit on for the first time something inside me shifted.

Maybe my emotions needed anchoring into place?

Certainly, the latex was restrictive enough to hold down all the wobbly bits, this probably included my mental state too. Rather than feeling vulnerable and fragile I felt strong, in control of my own destiny.

Initially that wouldn’t involve others, just me. How could I figure out how to love myself if I distracted myself with cock?! And in this period of readjustment, I had to take things slowly, including my libido. But I had no idea just how much easier housework would be in latex! (If you ever get the chance to test this theory, do take it. Let me know what you think.)

Not only that but I soon found a reason to indulge in some rubber knickers and a matching bra. If something tricky was coming up, I’d slip these on and face the challenge head on while dressed in normal clothes over the top. This may have caused a lot of fart sounds on the summer church service for the school, but at least it made me smile! And it was a great way to stretch myself. In regard to both increasing my body confidence through wearing latex, and using covert kink to make the hard vanilla stuff easier.

It must have worked.

Not only did I survive the first few weeks after Sirs departure, but I seemed to thrive.

My counselling was reaching the eighteen-month mark. Although I’d not been told our time was up I felt that things were reaching their natural conclusion. She helped me untangle yet more of the spaghetti of my brain, but I had strategies in place to manage the roller coaster of life. Those strategies seemed to pay dividends once Sir had handed the reigns back to me. As a result, I wasn’t surprised when my therapist suggested that our time may be nearing the end.

What did shock me though was that she confided she’d taken the charity place for the London marathon. Not only was her training underway but her mindset had shifted. And that it was all down to me inspiring her to achieve something great for herself. And that she had taken a few of my little mantras and was using them on herself. The little mantras were simple reminders of what I was doing right (for me) and that I was worthy of my time and care.

If I’d been nervous to fly solo before, I really had no excuse now.

With Sir’s task- to make myself happy- and my counsellor being inspired by me, now was really the time to see what they could both see. That I could do this and that the training wheels were no longer necessary. Not only that but if these two amazing people, whom I held in such high regard, respected me and my abilities then maybe, just maybe, I was capable of being the person I’d only ever dreamed about before.

Maybe loving myself, being my own Sir, didn’t start with red latex.

Perhaps that ability had been there all along? Had I just needed reminding that I had every right to feel that way? I’ve always wondered if Sir saw something in me and nurtured it, or if he planted the seeds and let it grow like weeds. As I’m writing this, four years after this departure, and many adventures with and without him later, I think I’ve just answered my question.

And, as with my latex catsuit, I hadn’t quite got my sparkle. But I knew that I would have fun trying to find it. That was my task, to make myself happy. And once I’ve agreed to complete something for him I take that responsibility seriously. But what would happen next I wonder?

Shared for the final prompt of Wicked Wednesday, I’m checking off the “Loving Myself” box. This chapter was a huge turning point for my inner critic. A time when I learned that loving myself was something I had been doing but would need to pursue mindfully while I navigated my grief following the loss of Sir.

Being My Own Sir Begins With Red Latex is the next instalment of the story behind the blog. You can find the rest of the posts here, or head right back to the beginning with this post. Feelings That Come Back Are Feelings That Never Really Went Away.