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[gynarchic houshold, findom] The sun was a merciless, white-hot coin hammered into the dome of the sky. It pressed down on the manicured gardens of the Villa, baking the pale gravel of the paths and drawing the heavy, narcotic scent from the banks of jasmine and roses. From my position, kneeling on the flagstones of the shaded terrace, I could feel the heat radiating up through the stone, a dull, persistent warmth that seeped into my knees. I was a fixture here, as much as the potted lemon trees or the marble nymph by the fountain. I loved the heat. It felt like a blanket of submission. Before me, on plush, cream-colored loungers, sat Madam and her guest, Lady Tanja. Madam, in her fifties, was a sculpture of cold elegance. Her silver-blonde hair was swept into a severe chignon, and her linen dress, the color of bone, was impeccably crisp despite the humidity. Her eyes, the pale blue of a winter lake, held no warmth, only an assessing, unyielding intelligence. She was successful

I try to do the right thing, but it doesn’t always work Sometimes, there is no right thing Sometimes, the right thing hurts people more than the many wrong choices I could make Valuing honesty and authenticity is painful I have thought occasionally that maybe I was happier before I really chose to be open and genuine But then, when I make myself confront those experiences I see it  I see putting myself last and I see that I caused more damage I allowed resentment to build instead of setting boundaries I allowed myself to stay in places where I felt and created unhappiness instead of choosing to leave Sometimes, I beat myself up over this For all of the damage I have caused and endured, I know that I am not alone Those of us who worry about the pain we cause and who care about the people we impact are bonded now, because the pain we have inflicted has been put on a scale We have perspective We try, or at least we consider trying I have hurt people. I do not have an