Resistance is futile. Assimilation is mutual.

I was confident that the Borgy boys would choose peace. I was wrong. 

Again. 

The Admiral reminds me that I’m at Master Levi’s mercy and I gasp — it’s true, I know it’s true, and, probably, he knows that I know it’s true, too. I doubt the Admiral would have said it if he didn’t believe that I already know it’s true. 

At my Master’s mercy here really needs a little bit of clarifying. I’m not literally at Master Levi’s mercy — I’m not a kept slave. I’m at my Master’s mercy, of my own free will. That’s the difference here: I choose to do this.

Master Levi knows what I do and don’t consent to, and what I do and don’t enjoy. Hence, he’s “mastered” me. 

And I know that the Admiral wants to master me, probably. I mean, he’s never really been shy about his ambitions!

The Admiral, I know, also follows the more “traditional” way of doing things: befriend the Dominant first, then see if the submissive will consider submitting to you. Master Levi doesn’t really follow that model: he sees me as my own autonomous woman, and I’m free to submit to whomever I like. 

Which means to say that for so long as the respect goes both ways, he doesn’t have a problem with them.

Which also means to say that I don’t have to submit to anyone. If I’m not feeling the connection, I just… don’t submit to them! Consent’s a great thing like that. 

But the Admiral, I know, has me cornered here. He’s confident. Annoyingly confident sometimes.

He’s left me with nowhere to run, and that brings out the submissive in me. Predicaments always do. 

I asked the Admiral if he’d considered that in trying to get me to assimilate to him, he’d sort of assimilated to me.

The Admiral said that he “wouldn’t be me” if he hadn’t. 

So again with that “annoyingly confident” thing. 

But I have to admit, I spiralled pretty hard. 

I wasn’t for this whole “assimilation” thing because assimilation means losing control, and I quite like the little bit of control I have. A part of me wanted our old Admiral/cadet days back: why’s he gotta go make it weird with all of this cyborg stuff? 

I mean, and from what little I’d read, then assimilation is kind of a “by force” thing, y’know? 

So he’d make me join him? Well, that’s just not very nice, is it? Whatever happened to my consent? 

You can’t MAKE a woman get into Star Trek, just like you can’t MAKE a woman do anything she doesn’t want to do. Sorry to disappoint you, Sir. 

But there was something more going on: if the Admiral knew that he was ‘assimilated’ to me, why wasn’t I feeling the same way? 

Yesterday, I drove myself into a funk trying to understand it all. 

It wasn’t “Addy”, that much I knew. Addy and I get on very well, and I really love my Addy — I almost told him so until something interrupted our conversation on Friday, then it sort of didn’t feel like the right time for those words. 

This wasn’t Addy; this was all me. It was a “it’s not you; it’s me” situation, except this time, it really was all me! 

And Addy is not the type to accept “it’s me” without picking apart why it’s apparently all me. I’d almost hate him sometimes, if I only could. 

For one, I’d convinced myself that I’m weird. There’s stuff that I’m into — or curious about — that I just don’t talk about anymore, because I’d found that anytime I do, I usually wind up met with judgement or rejection. So it’s a lot easier if I just… don’t talk about those kinks anymore! Now I explore them in my own time, in private, and at my own leisure. It’s much safer for me that way. 

For two, past poly relationships have not been kind to me. Abused, cheated on, neglected (and abused again). I’d ruled off “doing polyamory again” because I couldn’t hurt anyone if I wasn’t open to loving them, and I (nor my marriage) could be hurt by them if we were already closed. It was just going to be Wolfie and me from here on out, then Addy came along. 

For three, maybe my mother’s words had always stayed with me — that I would “struggle to find love (or work) because of your disabilities”. Therefore, deep down I believed, maybe I am unloveable.

I know, confidence and believing in myself and all that. I do, generally, just maybe a little less so when it comes to love. 

Finally, it’s been a bloody long time (twenty years!) since I did that whole “dating” thing with any real intent. Because duh! I’ve already been married for thirteen! 

So all in, maybe I’d forgotten how fucking terrifying it can be to do the whole “relationship” thing all over again. Nay, I had a fear of vulnerability that I was unintentionally making Addy’s problem. 

And just like that, I was taken right back to that windy day in Cornwall. Back to the sheer guttural fear I felt whilst sat by the lighthouse. Both the fear I felt of loving Master Levi, and the fear I felt of losing him to someone else if I didn’t. 

And then, the happiness that I feel now, with Master Levi, and how happy I am that I took the risk I did. 

Maybe this one will be okay, too.

I did speak to Addy about these things, because he asked what was troubling me, and because communication is an important thing we do. I admitted to Addy that I was worried that I was “too weird” for him. Later, I also told him that I love him.

Addy, the absolutely crazy man that he is, compared himself to an “ocean of weirdness”. 

Addy also told me that he loves me too.

And just like that, I remembered Dr Seuss’ “Mutual Weirdness” poem than hangs proud and central above our fireplace:

“We are all a little weird and life’s a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love.” 

 Dang it!

So maybe I am at their mercy, but hey…

They might just be at mine, too 😉

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