I’m back to reality and a little dazed by the suddenness of the transition.  I anticipate a heavy drop after being in service for over a week – yes, we decided to extend the original plan past Monday to this afternoon.

And it has been a wonderful week indeed.  But because of the intensity of my experience, I am finding myself at a loss of what to do in the vast emptiness of the afterwards.  I feel like crying, for no other reason than as a source of release and so my head and body can process it all and catch up to the present.

But it’s okay, it’s all really okay.  Incredibly, amazingly, exquisitely, delightfully so.

Which, frankly, I don’t think I would’ve been able to say two days into this.  His insistence on my opening up for him, of allowing myself to trust him and let him inside my mind, frightened me more, I think, than even I realized.  I was scared of being manipulated and emotionally abused.  Who wouldn’t be?  Who was this man, that I could feel secure enough to lower my defenses and trust him not to abuse the privilege?

whipIt was much easier to take the physical attention.  I have rope marks, whip marks, cane marks, and sore muscles galore from his many ministrations, and one particular scene that remains clear and striking in my mind came from one of the play parties at the Fringe, Saturday night.  I found myself tied to a mast (literally, it had cloth “sails” rolled up on top)  in the center of the main dungeon by only my hair.  He wrapped rope around my hair in ponytail fashion and attached it to a point somewhere high above my head, pulling it taut until I was standing on my toes.

Then he proceeded to whip my front and back, with my arms raised when I was facing forward.  This became my point of focus for the scene: concentrating on keeping my arms raised at my sides, palms facing up.  During the most vicious strokes, all of my will narrowed to purely keeping my arms up.  I was sobbing, screaming, on fire, by the time he laid the last stroke on my thigh, but I kept my arms up.

Which made it all the more convenient to collapse against him when he rushed up to embrace me and untie my hair from the mast.

And yes, all of that was much easier than, say, the first dozen or so times he asked me to look him in the eye.  Or incorporating the usage of “Sir” into my conversations with him.

I stumbled through those first few days, trying to understand our dynamic and my place at his side (or feet, as it were).  I heard multiple comments throughout the weekend at Folsom Fringe that he and I had good energy together, with each other.  I could feel it as well.

But it still took time, and prodding, and a lot of internal struggle.  There were times when I wanted to push away, to shy away; and there were times when he pushed too hard, and we both had to stop and back up.  He stretched the limits and boundaries of my submission in ways I’d never experienced it before, in ways that fulfilled me beyond anything I could have ever hoped for.

It still frightens me, the level of submission and commitment he demanded from me.  I am all too aware of the damage and emotional wounds that can occur at this depth.  It’s become easy for me to play casually with a few people without developing any close emotional bond.  And it’s almost painful to admit that now, because what I’ve discovered so clearly this past week is that I want nothing more than to give myself over, utterly and completely, to another, and for them to accept that responsibility, with full understanding of what it means for me.

  1. wrenna
    October 4, 2009 at 8:48 pm

    To open yourself up to your desires and expectations in the way that you have, and to be so honest with yourself and your partners about the way that you’re doing it seems like a very brave way to explore. I don’t think I’m psychologically tough enough to be able to take that on, especially when so much of the emotional context would need to be cared for by myself. I do know it is an amazing thing to be able to let go completely, and I’m glad that you’re brave.

  2. October 4, 2009 at 10:48 pm

    wrenna – Thank you for the kind words. I have found that being open and honest and frank has increased the value of the relationships I’ve developed in the recent past. I’ve lived long enough hiding behind false compliments and false friendliness that I can see how degrading it was to the quality of my life and of the relationships I formed. This makes writing here with frankness and openness all the more intriguing and important for me.

    I don’t know if that makes me brave, or just stubborn! I don’t see myself as being particularly tough.

    I wish you the best on your own journey!

  3. Max
    October 5, 2009 at 7:27 pm

    Well, I think you’re tough.

    And I think being open enough to connect with people on a genuinely intimate level is the hardest, bravest and most rewarding thing we can do.

    Hugs, girl.

    – Max

    • October 6, 2009 at 10:22 am

      Thank you, Sir.

  1. January 31, 2010 at 10:52 pm
  2. June 3, 2010 at 6:02 pm
  3. May 12, 2012 at 1:58 am

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