A couple of weeks ago, Master found an old wooden yo-yo from His boyhood. It has been sitting on the dining table. He's actually pretty good with it, but that's another story. It seems to have become emblematic.
Because that's me. Up. Down. Up. Down. Spinning round and round in wild circles.
I finally got the "all healed" from the doctor Friday afternoon. That news should have made me wildly happy. It really only brought up a host of issues and questions, and honestly, by the time we all got home Friday night, neither of us were in any shape to "try intercourse" as the doc so enigmatically phrased her release of me... Really, how does one "try" intercourse?
Saturday morning, however, was a different story. We didn't just try, we succeeded! Gloriously. All doubts swept away in one magnificent, outrageous, noisy, laughing, sobbing, celebratory fuck... We were both as giddy as newlyweds.
Up. Up. Up.
I woke up ahead of Him Sunday. Ready for a repeat. Hot and horny and excited and feeling sexy. He woke up soon after, seemingly feeling the same way -- all systems go. A bit of spanking, and then He decided I needed a good paddling -- hadn't been paddled in a long time...
Down. Crash. Out went the fire. I do not eroticize paddles or paddling. I endure paddling because He likes to do it. So, over the pillows I went, for a session with the paddle, which I know, and which He is quick to tell me was way lower-end than anything we used to do. And when it was over we tried to make love again...
But I was terribly sore inside. And not turned on, and He seemed -- less "ready" than before we started. Even my getting paddled hadn't pleased Him. At least that's how it felt in my head. I'd lost my "goodie" and I hadn't made Him happy either. I'd just hurt for the sake of hurting with no gain for either of us. The fucking was dismal. I tried. I don't know how long I lasted. For awhile I think. Not long enough. In the end, I felt like a failure all the way around: crappy slave, crappy lover, crappy woman.
Worst of it is that I still don't have words for where it all goes off the tracks. I don't think I'm a really bad slave or a terrible masochist. I don't think we're a terrible match for one another. I think we are a really good match, but we seem to be at odds right now. I don't meet up to whatever the fantasy is that He has in His head and I guess I don't even meet up to the fantasy that I have in my head. He keeps suggesting that maybe I'd be happier with some nice vanilla man... That is a threat that drops me to the bottom of the pit.
Ah well, even yo-yo's have strings. They aren't totally worthless as long as someone keeps hold of the string. In the end, I think the biggest problem for me has been that sense that the string is loose. I don't know if we'll ever get straight with one another what that means to the two of us. We don't seem to share much vocabulary in that regard. I think that His idea of what I really need to feel His "ownership" is different than the reality -- especially at the critical moments when I am most vulnerable. I don't need Him to direct me or hold me tightly when I'm pouring detergent into the washer, but when I'm facing the demons and dragons at the edge of the masochistic forest -- then, oh then, I need His strength and His voice and His power. Unfortunately, at that moment, I suspect He is into His own space and not willing or able to be available in that way... I may have to learn to fight the demons on my own...
Or go find that nice vanilla man. Or maybe just lay down and die.
swan
Swan, it's always darkest before dawn.
ReplyDeleteIt's also been a hard time for Tom, hope that it all works out for you both.
Paul.
kaylem, the "vanilla man" gambit takes me down on so many levels, that I cannot even begin to answer from that place. He knows this. It is a knockout punch. It hearkens back to my previous relationship and the denial and frustration that entailed -- I lived for 28 years with a "vanilla man." It means self-obliteration. He knows, in some corner of His mind that I'd die before I'd do that again. So, the fact that He is willing to go there points to the intensity of the anger and frustration that must be acting in the situation for Him to be willing to be so crushingly cruel. I am obviously way out of line.
ReplyDeleteswan
dancer -- I understand how easy it is to project from our own previous experiences that may have been or felt "abusive." What is going on in my life now is difficult and painful for both Master and myself. We have come through a year long series of challenging health crises and a concommitant array of family and career hurdles. We are stressed beyond what is remotely reasonable and our little family is worn out and fraying at the edges. The raveling is beginning to show. Still, we maintain an alternative lifestyle that has NO supportive structure within the culture that we inhabit. What you read here is the outpouring of my soul. When I hurt, when I am baffled, when I am confused... it all comes here. That is the primary function of this vehicle. Sometimes the words have no other reason than to cleanse and clarify. Do not put more weight to them than they have. Whatever else you may interpret, we are solidly in love and committed. I am loved and cherished, even as frustrations and anxieties take their toll. He hurts too. We struggle together to find our way. Whatever you may want to believe, He is a good man, and I can be a dreadful handful. We tangle each other up on a regular basis. It is not all one thing or another. So rant if you must, but be fair please.
ReplyDeleteswan