Knowing "What I am up against"

As I am more and more healed, we are contemplating more and more seriously coming back to a resumption of our relatedness as sadomasochistic partners. It is not entirely simple or smooth, much as I believe both of us want it to be.

SM, I think, is clouded to a degree when partners are also lovers -- and we are.

We remain, at present, somewhat stifled and stymied by the continual, periodic intrusion of doctor visits. Every two weeks, I am obliged to "bare all" to the gynecologist since things have yet to heal sufficiently to gain me release from the surgical follow-up regimen. Because I am prone to significant marking and bruising with even fairly light impact, we've been kept to time limited activities. Always there is the question of "healing" obvious marks of our interactions before the good doctor gets a good look at me...

That said, we've had some interludes that have foreshadowed what is to come. I am aware that He is "crazy" to pick it all back up again. I am trying to "know" that His care for me will balance the craziness that has built up over these eight long weeks... I am wanting to be "good," to be "pleasing," to be "ready" for whatever He will want from me...

I am not a "simple" masochist. I do not readily or easily eroticize painful stimuli. I eroticize the loss of control that comes from being taken beyond my ability or willingness to endure painful stimuli. It is not a direct path.

Interestingly, I have made the connection with a sadistic partner who, given the opportunity, and a willing partner, enjoys very high level "impact" play. His orientation is almost entirely toward whips, straps, canes, and paddles. The other elements of BDSM play are of much less interest for Him, generally. When we first were partnered, our sessions were typically lengthy, consisting of long build ups with many toys. He'd start out with light leather slappers, and soft suede floggers, taking me from level to level -- building the sensation and intensity as I caught the wave of endorphins and rode the crest of the pain with His use of increasingly high-end implements.

My skin (now older and far less resilient)and His patience will no longer allow such dalliance. Our sessions now are far shorter and far more "condensed." There is no room on the "menu" for the luxury of slow, sensual build ups that leave time for the rush of endorphins to the rescue. Our play now is "efficient" and most often severe from the outset. If we are to make it through a session with a minimum of bloodshed, we need to go for whatever objective He has in mind, and hang the "niceties."

I believe that the Lover in Him would be pleased if I'd "get something" out of our play, but I also know that when it is over and done with that is not the primary motivation. He hurts me because it pleases Him to do so; turns Him on to do so; connects Him to me to do so. It is a fierce, roaring, driving, powerful, absolute need for Him to have me in that place where I am begging, pleading, crying for Him to stop, to go no further, to let me go -- please, Sir... If it gets me off, too, then that is a bonus, but not a requirement.

And it very often doesn't. For me, it is battleground. To get there. Stay there. Hold. In masochistic submission, I walk an edge that runs between utter darkness and absolute fury. He pushes, looking for the breaking point. It is not enough for me to endure. My quiet, stoic, sweating, panting, survival is never, ever good enough. He wants my struggle, my suffering, my pleas, and my desperation. For me, the danger is that I can so easily fall off the cliff into the darkness of despair, or, even worse, flip over into the rage that brings me to the point of wanting to do murder... I am not a sweet slave in that place. There is feral just below that surface.

So, the other morning, as we struggled, each of us with our own frustrations and fears, I fussed that I only wanted to know what He had planned for the morning/day --wanted to know "what I was up against." It hurt His feelings in some significant way. He is quick to read that sort of phrasing as reflective of a feeling on my part of "abuse." It isn't that at all. Only the mental preparation of one who engages in a serious endeavor requiring a disciplined mind, body, and spirit. I do prepare for our sessions, if I get the chance. I work to be ready. I know that, unless I am gifted with the rare confluence of masochistic magic, I will have to call on every single personal resource at my disposal to give us the kind of interaction that fires our love into a space that is more than just sexy -- if I can BE who I ought to be under His hand, then I know that together we can be powerful and magical and lyrical and forever bright like the stars.

swan