It is Called "Sadism"

It all began innocently enough. A question was posed on a listserve that Master participates in (He has far more tolerance for this sort of thing than I do). The group identifies as a D/s Newcomers list, and the questioner asked if there was anyone who actually identified as a "sadist." Master responded like this:

I am an absolutely totally unrepentant sadist whose "infliction of choice" is spanking and related arts. I've never met a woman under the age of seventy I didn't want to spank...not as they want to be spanked so it will "feel good" to them, but as I enjoy it. Nothing is better than when my partner feels hysterically desperate to do anything to stop the blistering she is receiving and has absolutely no way to bring the spanking she is receiving under her control (other than her safe word and, alas, nothing is happening toher that is "unsafe" and she knows if she safes inappropriately she'll be even more severely punished.) I love being a sadist. I was born to it.

That was a couple of weeks ago. It really didn't cause much comment or reaction; one of those tidbits that gets dropped into the giant pond of online discourse and vanishes with hardly a ripple... At least, that was the way things stood until a person (who has apparently been "too busy" to keep up with things) checked back in in the last couple of days and came across His comments. This person, who identifies as "sweetiesub" but who shall be known for the remainder of this piece as "Little Miss Know It All," became seriously incensed and horrified over Master's description of His sadistic practice, and took it upon herself to set Him, and everyone else on the list straight. There has been quite an amazing dialog between them, and I have just been left shaking my head. I'm including the dialog, pretty much unedited, for your edification... I only wish I could convey to you the tone of voice that I hear when I read what she writes...

hi all, I've been back reading & catching up. I've been a bit too busy lately, and reading back-posts in the board has been both a diversion from other worries, *and* a point of contact (well, as far as contact on the Internet goes) with people who are doing more than leases, paint costs, electrical design costs, organizing dungeon cleaning/moving work parties, & keeping on top of twenty-seven levels of organizational issues! Not to sound overly important, it's just that everyone I am really close to is either involved in that (as I am too) or otherwise very busy. Many "fried" people. SO I've come back to try to divert my brain by catching up withNewcomers when I'm home. (I've also found fields of fireflies very therapeutic, at least until the Moon started to wax very Full.) Anyhoo. Did anyone else not pause to wonder what was meant in the below post? Can a person "safe inappropriately"? Does the dynamic of being punished more severely for safewording exist in anyone else's SM sessions? If this had been a description of a disciplinary action, aka punishment, would it have made more sense (as it would have to me)? (in D/s, Safewording during a punishment is really not an option unless one is being injured or having a severe freak-out whilst the D keeps on punishing.)
The concept that those with whom I practice BDSM follow is that a "safe" word is what it says. It is a word that is intended to keep one "safe." If a bottom partner is going blind, having chest pain, has lost sensation in her limbs, is unable to breathe, losing consciousness, or any other health and safety issue then the bottom partner is not only expected to use his/her safeword.....but is absolutely required to do so. The presumption is that the bottom partner has agreed to participate in a session of sadomasochism and realizes that means that pain is going to be inflicted on him or her. She has entrusted herself to her partner (i. e., me) and is entering into that session consensually and based upon a desire she has to experience what has been agreed to. It is also anticipated that the nature of what is to occur has been discussed and agreed to. In my sessions if one who has asked to receive pain then "safewords" not because they are in circumstances that are unsafe, but because they have decided that they now don't like what they agreed to, that is considered to be using a safeword inappropriately. The experiencing of pain when consensually playing with a sadist is not unsafe. Pain, in and of itself, is not unsafe. And yes, I do, and very much have punished women for using a safeword to end a session when there was nothing unsafe occurring to them. I have only once had someone safe appropriately. This is not because none of my partners have ever experienced health and safety threats during a scene, but because generally, I perceive those issues in my partners before they ever get to the point of "safewording," stop the scene, and do whatever is necessary to correct the situation. Quite frankly, if I get to the point where a partner has to "safeword" to head off a health/safety issue, I feel I have failed to practice appropriate empathic observation in the interest of my partner.
As a sadistic scene "issue", referring to her knowledge of inappropriately safewording to get out of the pain makes no sense to me ... and I play with sadists almost exclusively. I am a sadism-slut but pain does not always bring me pleasure, especially if I am being brought/pushed over the edge of my tolerance constantly in a scene.
As a sadistic scene issue using a safeword TO get out of pain makes absolutely no sense. If you want to avoid being subjected to the infliction of pain beyond your control then don't engage in sadomasochism. The infliction of pain beyond your control is the essence of the definition of bottoming in a sadomasochistic experience. If you want to have someone inflict pain on you in ways that you find to "feel good" for you, then hire yourself a "service top" who is not a sadist, and whose role is to serve you by creating your desired sensations as you control the scene. I'm a sadist. Your enjoyment of the pain in our scene (or not) is your responsibility. Not only do I not mind if you don't enjoy the pain. I enjoy it more if you do not. (There are certainly some times with my family members when I do play with them working to achieve mutual satisfaction, because it pleases me to, but then too, they do not safeword unless they are having a safety issue.) By the way much of the play I do is disciplinary style play and/or actual discipline. It is what I/we enjoy
Is this concept, incorporating the thought that a safeword if used might be "inappropriate," merely a different "play style" than mine &/or what I am used to in New England?
I'm a long standing practitioner and have had many partners from all over, including people from New England. There really is not a regional difference in this regard. I expect your style preference and perhaps experiential limitations have led you to these opinions.
I am not looking for universal condemnation of raheretic's choices.
How generous of you! I was so hoping you would not have me excommunicated by the National Association of Service Tops or something:)
For those he is involved with, this may be the "meat & potatoes" of any scene.
Yes, it is, and disgusting depraved perverts we are each and every one.
However when I read this I felt I was in quicksand, not understandingthe dynamics being referred to.
Expanding one's horizons is often feels that way.
Tom, you have misunderstood my point of view. Let me try to be between the two of us, since your misunderstanding is directed *to* me directly, in your reply. Anyone who wants to is welcome to read along.
I responded directly to you in that your original post was specifically about me and my described practice and questioned the degree of universal condemnation that should be sought of my practice.
My original post was *not* directed at you, but rather intended to inquire if others felt any similar lack of complete understanding to your view on inappropriately safewording. An appropriate question for a newcomers' group. Although I'm single & have not entered a service or submissive relationship in a longish while, I have sessioned to understand the general levels of what my body can tolerate & how I can process pain, and have learned a few things along the way about sustaining heavy bruising, & bleeding & scarring. I can offer more about the sadism my body has undergone, & which I've mentally processed, if anyone likes. First in response to your implications of my short comings in experience,
I never in anyway addressed shortcomings of yours in any way. I did say I suspect your perspectives are limited by your experience. All of our perspectives are limited by experience. I certainly, though very experienced, do not, nor would I ever, claim to know the experience of all or even most others. The fact is I know what I've experienced either directly or through learning from others. It has appeared at several points in both your posts that you are somehow far more omniscient and appear to believe you know the practices of huge numbers of people throughout significant regions of the world.
Tom: I session with sadists, though the ones I'm mutually interested in are by their nature actively interested in the positive responses a female body can have, as well as the sadistic pain responses. In other words, I do not session with sadists who'd never, in other moments with other partners, take pleasure in heightening the female hormonal reactions to body play.
I am glad for you and your partners that you have found mutually satisfying outlets for your sensual/erotic orientations. I must admit confusion in terms of what you are describing here. I'm likely being dense. I've read this sentence over several times and can get no sense of what you are trying to express.
IOW I don't session with people who are utterly dead to the appeal & rewards of pure pleasure, or whose degree of sadism simply leaves that out of the equation. I do session with men who get horny & hard from hurting me without having any sexual contact.
Would I assume that you are somehow categorizing me as being "dead to the appeal & rewards of pure pleasure"? And you have accused me of being condescending and judgmental!
I scene with sadists without sexual contact. What I get out of that is someone who's embraced the yin & yang of both sadism & their ability to invoke sexual desires, even if I never get to experience the latter side of the balance. What you describe regarding your sadism style is not only familiar to me, but familiar from firsthand experience, with the exception being the inclusion of punishment if I chose to end the activity. I don'tnormally suggest use of safewords, although I play with dominants who accept that they are de rigeur in a play environment & who do check if we are on the same page about them, so in a sense we do utilize safewords, though they don't come into use. I would be fine if they didn't ask about them, since I am certain already of the dominant's character & style, before asking/agreeing to session. My reply is taking a personal tack so far, because that is how your reply was designed - to suggest by implication & outright that I did not understand the realities of play with sadists.
There is nothing in my reply that in any way describes your understanding of play with sadists of any sort. You have in both your earlier post and in this one attempted to claim that since my BDSM practice is not one you are familiar with, it should be subjected to condemnation, is exploitive, is based on being dead to rewards of pleasure, and is unique to me and me alone, and contrary to the teachings of the entire East Coast of the United States. You must be awfully broadly experienced and hugely expertly knowledgeable to cast such judgments on others. And now you are claiming it was I who was condescending and offensive.
Now for the safeword issue. (Of interest to all, I'd think.) Why is it inappropriate to safeword to stop a session? 'Red' or whatever the strongest safeword may be, is the standard for:"Stop the session instantly, no more, not even one or two more, I need to get out of the scene,"
You'll get no argument from me. That is how I/we use safewords.
in my neck of the woods. Even if it all *is* synonymous for "I can't take any more."I find the "Red means stop what you are doing right now but don't endthe scene" safeword-style which some people use to be an inappropriate concept of safewording, but that is their choice. All that matters is that *they* understand what they are doing. (I even made it clear to all the readers in my post that the same variation of the standards might be true in your case.)
I don't find anyone's concept of safewording inappropriate for anyone other than for those with whom I am playing. If we have an informed agreement based on our relatedness that this is how we will play then that is what is appropriate for us. Quite frankly what others may think of the appropriateness of our choices is irrelevant. Likewise it is presumptuous in the extreme to decide whether or not others choices are appropriate of not.
But there *are* standards.
And who is it that sets these standards? I have been around this for decades and somehow have missed the BDSM Board of Arbiters who have established these standards you wish applied to the BDSM practice of me and mine.
The Red-means-the-session-ends standard's going to be the entry point for most newcomers into the world of sadomasochism.
I don't know how we got into this discussion of what is appropriate for new comers in the world of sadomasochism. I responded to a post asking if there were readers here who could identify with being termed a sadist. I made it clear that I wholeheartedly do identify as a sadist. In that response I described some very basic premises of my BDSM practice. That led to your attack. Certainly mentoring novitiates into "The Life" requires a developmental progression in learning to actualize their aspirations. I have mentored others and had the great good fortune to be mentored by some wonderfully experienced folks when I was new. But there was nothing in what I wrote, or in the request it was written in response to, that dealt with mentoring newbies regarding safewords or anything else. If our discussions may only use terms appropriate to the rankest new folks in response to any and all questions, the conversations here will need to change dramatically. The style of not allowing someone to use a safeword, & punishing them for it, is in all that I have ever heard or experienced, reserved to/for dedicated slaves to a specific family/house or dominant, never for general practice. (Except certain mysterious, off-the-BDSM-tourist-path Chateaus of Maledom/femalesub slavery which sound like extracts from The Story of O.)
Once again, why is it that your ".....all that I have ever heard or experienced," been exalted to a point that you may judge as appropriate or inappropriate the practice of others whose experience happens not to have been yours? I have encountered new practices at just about every one of the BDSM conferences I've attended over the years. I don't decide because they are not like anything I've heard of or experienced before, they must be wrong or inappropriate. Even if they would not be my choice, they are certainly appropriate for those who consensually choose them for themselves.
Not allowing safewords *at all* is something I understand. "D" is an example of someone who's often written a compelling treatise on this style, which has no safewords whatsoever. Punishment for safewording is something personal to you, and you've elaborated very well on it. Your explanation of how it means "safe" or"unsafe" is rational & clearly provides the context which your earlier post did not. So far so good. Your comments towards me about expanding my horizons was pure condescension, and IMO this should not happen in a newcomers' group.
Actually, no they were not condescending. The practice I've written about is not that rare, even if it is new to you. You expressed feeling a sinking feeling when you learned of this practice. It is not uncommon for people who first encounter a practice that is foreign to their experience to have similar feelings. It is also not uncommon particularly if that practice flies in the face of passionately held assumptions (and it would appear that my having made the mistake of describing my practice somehow violated some extremely passionately adhered to values of yours to warrant your vitriolic response) to develop reaction formation as a defense mechanism to attempt to resolve their resulting cognitive dissonance. There has been tremendous amounts of condescension in our correspondence, but it has not occurred on this end of the exchange.
We're all here to attract people & inform them.
Inform, yes, support certainly, but I see no reason to attract anyone........maybe the Christian right has us nailed. The evil BDSM'ers are out their trying to ensnare poor unsuspecting folk into lives of godless perversion:)


I'm not sure. I suspect the conversation that was sparked by all of that continues, and perhaps there are some who are actually getting "good" information out of all the nonsense

There's a part of me that is running an ongoing "lecture" in my head directed toward "Little Miss Know It All," giving her what I consider to be the benefit of my experience and wisdom as a lifestyle submissive and slave -- because, after all, I live this and I can point to dozens of places in her little diatribe where someone who claims to be "submissive" is way off the mark... The more reasonable, more (hopefully) mature, and graceful part of my brain is well aware how arrogant and inappropriate that would be.


So, maybe I'll use this little exchange to refresh the lessons that I knew or have learned along the way -- not for anyone else, but just for me:

• When someone says this is what I/we do, or this is how I/we am/are, I'll try to remember to listen carefully and openly. I'll watch myself for strong reactions that may lead me to make judgements that are grounded in my own biases and fears.

• I'll speak (and write), when I speak, respectfully and gently. I'll try to remember that the tone of my words can invite and welcome others to dialog -- or create distance and dissension.

• I'll be mindful that my experience is limited. I'll keep in mind that I am a learner, and that there may be others who have experiences that are beyond what I have seen, tried, experienced, or contemplated. When I encounter something new, I will recognize that I am seeing something that is outside my experience. I will feel free to explore and question things that I do not know or understand, but I will try to avoid moving to condemn or judge based on my own limitations.

• I'll understand that not everyone lives, practices, plays, or relates in the same ways as I do. I will assume that there will be some "ways" that will be outside of the boundaries of my comfort zone. When that occurs, I will understand that I may choose to not participate or endorse without any need to attack or tear down.

swan

Showing His Dominance?

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What Would Vanilla be Like?

I've thought for some time about writing about my "unique" sensual erotic orientation. My taking a little time for myself today, and swan's focusing attention on me in the previous post here, has prompted me to write about this.

I detailed my developmental history with adult consensual erotic and disciplinary spanking here on our predecessor Blog, The Swan's Heart back in 2005.

Since that time my fascination with spanking women has not lessened even in the slightest, and quite frankly, I'd be most surprised if it ever does (for which I am I am extremely grateful.)

Recently I've found myself not only reveling in the self-acceptance of my sensual erotic orientation, but too, trying to imagine what it must be like to be vanilla.

I realize this is a difficult thing to achieve. It is like the challenge of a man trying to imagine menstruation or a woman attempting to empathize with the expereince of an unwanted erection, but it is a thought that keeps creeping in my head.

What would it be like not to think of spanking swan or t? What would it be like to not foucs my attention on the ass of every woman I meet and to not imagine how she would react if I were to blister her? How would she writhe? What would she vocalize? Would she struggle fiercly or would she submit docilely? Would she be aroused or tramatized.......outraged? Would she accept this form of sensual erotic expression were she to encounter it or be horrified? Has she ever been spanked as an adult? Does she find the prosppect exciting, or anxiety provoking, or horrifying? Would I need to restrain her, or would she feel the need to be restrained? Would she be better with the paddle, the cane, the switch, the whip? And on and on and on...........

What would it be like if my reactions when I am attracted to a woman were thoughts of intercourse, or fondling her breasts, or cunnilingus? Surely all those acts are gratifying and parts of a sexual relationship.............but I cannot imagined feeling an attraction, and having those enter my head as anything but a very secondary and subordinate desires as opposed to spanking.

My life is complex and full and rewarding and challenging. There is so much going on simultaneoulsy, as swan pointed out in her last post about me. Through everything though, there is this continual subplot, like the background music in a movie that swells to a crescendo at times, and which is only subliminally perceptible at others. This backdrop to my life of my meeting women, feeling excited by and drawn to them, and wanting to spank them and imagining that expereince as a way of connecting, and expressing fun, passion, energy, and excitment.

I am so fortunate to have swan who shares this score as a background to her life and eroticism, and t for her huge help in helping me to grow into acceptance of this need, central to who I am, and necessary for me to have become whole.

I cannot imagine how life would be if I were not continuously involved at the core of my consciousness with adult consensual erotic and/or disciplinary spanking.

I have great sympathy for those who are not blessed to have had this huge gift of energy and passion in their lives. I would think my life would change from technicolor to black and white without it. I hope for them that their eroticism provides them too with such energy, and life-affirming excitment.

Tom

Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you've imagined.

Master -- The Man

It is easy I think, in writing about BDSM stuff, and about "life in general," to focus on what it is that we do, and forget that we are actual human people with emotions and feelings and reactions and hearts. Sometimes, the titles and labels and personas that we use and create with the words we weave serve to reveal, but they can just as often hide the truth of the people to whom we assign them.

The last few days have been incredibly interesting and packed with flashing events/images for me. As I am running back over these days in my mind this afternoon, I am realizing that there is a sense revealed in these happenings of the Man that is my Master that perhaps many never get to fully see or understand. I'd like to take just a bit of your time and give you a picture of that Man...

I've told you that He and I attended a two-day meeting in the capital over the weekend. It was the annual meeting of a state level advocacy organization for people with intellectual and developmental disabilities. The board of trustees meets quarterly. The "membership" meets annually. Every four years, at that annual meeting, we elect a new slate of officers. This was that "election" year, and the position of president was being sought by two different people with notably different approaches and styles. Master had a candidate that He supported, and for whom He worked and "politicked" quite intensely. When it comes to things political, He seldom loses, and He is not someone that I'd ever want working against me. By the time it was all over with, the election itself got quite ugly at a personal level (not by Master's doing), and the "other guy" did lose. There was high drama as he tendered his immediate resignation and left the meeting with a flourish before the new officers could be installed. Things ended on a rather low note. As we drove home, we discussed the whole business, and it was clear that Master was torn -- feeling triumphant politically, but bad personally for the fellow. We arrived home simply drained; unpacked; napped; had some dinner; talked it all over with T... And then good and decent and honorable Man that He is, Master called the man whom He had worked so hard to defeat, and talked with Him about how much He valued all the things he's contributed, and how badly He felt over this outcome, and how much work there remains to be done, and how important his contribution could be going forward. It was sincere and heartfelt, and I believe it preserved a friendship and changed what could have been a very bitter split into a potentially powerful alliance.

Last evening we joined another friend to accompany our good friend, M, out for a celebration of his 61st birthday. M has a developmental disability, and while he functions pretty well, he needs a variety of supports to succeed in the community. Our family is a part of that network of friends that surround him and help him live the life he chooses to lead. This year, his choice for his birthday celebration was a trip to Hooters. So, there we were, Master and T and I, along with another good friend and M -- drinking beer, eating Hooters' food, making sure that M got his picture taken with lots of Hooters girls, and sharing the wonderful sugar free dessert that T made (M is diabetic, too) with our whole party and a good number of the wait staff as well. As we sat there, watching M beam, surrounded by friends, he was clear that it was because of Master that he is able to live his life the way he does and make the choices he wants to make.

We came home close to 10 PM and Master set about writing testimony that He planned to give to our city council this morning concerning a public transit fare increase that would severely impact the disability community in our city. It was after midnight before He was satisfied and ready to head to bed.

Just before 1:45 AM, the phone rang. Master's elderly father was suffering from acute nausea and being transported to the local emergency room from the assisted living facility. Without hesitating, Master assured him that He would meet him there. So, with perhaps an hour or just a bit more of sleep, He was up and out the door, headed off to be the support to His father at the hospital emergency room. Although I offered, as I always do, to go along, He refused to hear of it, insisting there was nothing for me to do and no reason for us both to be up all night. As it turned out, He sat for two hours at the hospital where His father had told Him they were taking him -- and when dad never showed up, Master called another hospital in the city and discovered that the ambulance had diverted there because the one where they had initially planned to take His father was full. So, at 4 AM, He had to drive across the city to actually link up with His father. Eventually, dad was diagnosed with pneumonia, admitted to the hospital, and Master was able to come home -- at 6:30 AM.

It was just in time to have a bit of breakfast and get ready to go and give the testimony He had prepared the night before. Anyone else would have begged off, and been justified in doing so, but Master had committed to doing this, and so He was determined to go.

As He got cleaned up and dressed, I grabbed His prepared testimony, took the keys to His car and scooted off to the nearby Kinko's to make copies. When I came back, I tried to put His car into the garage because our plan was to take my car to the hearing. It is a long story, but I have terrible difficulty with putting the cars into the garages, and this morning, I misjudged the opening and scraped the left front fender of His car on the garage opening. Damn! Rattled and upset, I parked the car on the driveway, and went inside to give Him the bad news. He simply looked at me, shook His head, smiled ruefully, and mused: "you poor thing -- you have more trouble parking the cars in the garage!" That was it. No recriminations. No blame. No anger. The gentlest of responses, acknowledging the event, but also affirming that the circumstance is one that I genuinely have trouble with.

We headed off. He gave His very poised and professional and pertinent testimony.

Home for a bit more of a nap and then off to attend yet another meeting. In the midst of it all, He continues to worry about His dad. And, we worry about Him.

That's the Man who is my Master.

swan

Traveling Light?

He and I went for a two-day meeting in our state capital this week. That necessitated an overnight stay. One overnight. ONE.

I can do an overnight in a gym bag.

By the time we arrived at the hotel and got checked into the room, it required a hotel luggage cart to carry our belongings to the room... Have I mentioned that Master does not travel light? There's the hanging bag and the bag with the C-PAP and the bag for the computer and the bag of snacks and the 12 pack of diet sodas and the giant Franklin planner and the radio that might be needed to pull in the signal for the baseball game... It's a significant cartload of stuff.

As we were leaving the hotel on Saturday morning, heading back to the meeting, with the cart all loaded up again to take it back to the car, we got on the elevator and were joined by another guest dragging one, small, rolling suitcase. Master commented that he was traveling light, and the fellow replied that he liked to do that. I tried not to giggle.

We went on out to the parking lot and put all our stuff into the car (my new little KIA Rio 5). Master joked that the guy with the little, bitty suitcase probably had a gigantic SUV, and sure enough, just then the guy cruised by in a great big beast of a vehicle. I couldn't resist poking at Himself just a little -- kidding Him that, if He did not have me to schlepp all this stuff, He would pack more conservatively like that other fellow. He replied that, if He did not have me, He would probably pack in a fanny pack. It can be good having a slave!

swan

Variations on a Theme

It was probably Monday last week when two conflicting parts of our current reality brought us square up against how we (and especially I) have changed in the last couple of years.


I began to write about it that day and simply could not work my way through enough of the frustration and confusion and anger to feel reasonable about my thinking. What works here is a swirling and volatile mixture of powerful tides from several different directions. The confluence becomes pretty turbulent, and the two of us get tossed around in the vortex.


A very signigicant factor for the two of us is the duality of our time. Life shifts enormously for us twice each year -- spring and late summer, as the school year dictates my schedule. Throughout the almost ten months of the year when I am teaching, our lives are to a very large degree driven by my routines. We rise at 5:00 each morning, eat a very quick breakfast, and part quickly as I fly off to sometimes very long days. Our evenings revolve around meetings and work, and the weekends are most often a matter of one day of relaxation and one day of work as I try to prepare for the next week. The time and flexibility of that routine is pretty limited.


Then summer comes and things change radically and suddenly. It is as if I "retire" each year in June. While we look forward to that, it does entail some major adjustments that invariably challenge us in ways we never have learned to anticipate. During the school year, once He gets us wives launched, the house and the hours of His days are pretty much His to manage in whatever way He chooses. Depending on His schedule, He may or may not leave home, and His time at home is uniquely His. When I come back home each summer, that "space and private time" is altered by my simple presence. No matter how thrilled we might be to have the extra time, things change. It is about learning different patterns and rythms; getting used to being around each other; establishing the understanding and routines that take us through the minutes and hours and really do allow us to enjoy being around each other.


Further complicating things for He and I in the last year and a half is the fact of my altered sexual status. The precise combination of circumstances that result in my achieving orgasm are still largely a mystery to the two of us. When we do seem to "hit" the jackpot and arrive at that point, we are usually simultaneously thrilled and baffled as to the actual path that brought us there. That makes it particularly difficult to recreate the event with any sort of reliability. One thing that has become abundantly clear to me is that the whole business is remarkably fragile -- if I get started along the way to an orgasm, it is not at all difficult to knock me off my horse and end the whole thing. Sometimes, it really does feel like it would be easier to just forget the whole thing rather than try and fail time after time... Or get close and then have it evaporate just when the prize is within sight.


And we practice in the SM realm of BDSM. He is a sadist. I am a masochist. He derives a significant level of His pleasure from hurting me. I need, crave, want to be hurt. That should be simple and if the "match up" of those two drives were exact, I suppose it might be, but His sadism easily outruns my ability to match Him from the masochistic side. Being taken past where there is anything at all pleasurable in it fills a deep drive to be controlled and owned within my psyche -- but it does not "turn me on." It pushes one set of buttons, but not the other. The kind of SM play that most engages His sadism, takes me to fear, to panic, to anger, to despair, to total exhaustion and surrender -- sometimes it even takes me to subspace, but it does not take me to sexual release generally. That is a different pathway. Complexity within complexity.


We can work it out. We DO work it out. It just requires that we learn again and again and again, that not every session is the same, and that not all outcomes will be achieved in every encounter. Part of what "saves" us is that we are not new with one another. We know each other well enough to have a difficult spot and keep hold of the core of our relational dynamic. We can be hurt and frustrated and fearful and baffled, but the framework remains and gives us a pathway to follow as we work to find a way forward.


That's why, today, I can report on the contrast between last Monday and this morning. I'm going to go ahead and put up what I had started to write about last Monday, so that you can see the contrast.


Last Monday I wrote --


I really do understand the position that I occupy. I really do understand the nature of my relationship and who I am within that. I really do understand what it is that I have chosen and how that works.

None of what I am struggling with or trying to get settled for myself are intended to deny any of that. This is just me, looking inward, processing the reactions and emotions that come up for me with some parts of this. This is just me, coping with paddles. Again. Or trying to.

As long as we've been at this, I've struggled to come to terms with His love of paddles. It was, as I wrote here so long ago, one of the places where we began, and it continues to be a place that we come back to over and over. And, for me, it is never any easier.

Today, the paddle, coming right at the outset of our morning encounter; yanking me hard out of the softness of waking up; fierce and without prelude -- simply made me angry. And the anger just sits there with no place to go. Because I know that He can and will spank as He likes -- that there is no obligation for Him to spank me the way I want to be spanked, and that IF He did do that, I'd be devastated.

Still, the ferocity of the pain ripped everything else away and denied the possibilities that I might take anything away from the morning except survival. And that simple reality brought the anger. It felt quiet to me. No roaring, stomping, hands on hips, swearing fury this time. Just bitterly, smoulderingly, sure of the wrongness of the whole business.

Sandwiched in between the paddlings was a good, long whipping with a kangaroo-hide cat that I love, and that I'd asked for in particular this morning. It mattered not at all. I was too awash in the frustration and anger to take it in.

And, of course, being completely bent out of shape is not a recipe for achieving "the heights of ecstasy" sexually either. So, that part of the morning was a write off, too.

Damn! Double Damn!

I can't imagine that, after all this time, I haven't learned how to take a simple paddling without it destroying my whole day. Honestly. I can't even begin to imagine how many paddle strokes there must have been in my life by now. Duh! How tough can this be?

There isn't anything complicated to this. I know the drill. It is the advice that I so glibly give to newbies: "submissives submit." I don't have to like it. I don't have to enjoy it. It isn't my choice or pleasure that is the issue here. Lose the attitude and expectations. Give it up. Give it over. Be what I say I am.



That was where I was, late in the afternoon of that day.

The next morning, or maybe it was two days later, He started off to play with me again -- touching and stroking that "magic spot" that we discovered only a couple of weeks ago. I could feel myself tensing up, and hear myself screaming inside my mind: "NO! Please... Just leave that part of it out, and go straight to the paddling because I don't think I can stand this. I don't think I can bear being brought to the point of almost orgasm, only to have it all blown away by what I know is coming next here..." I didn't say any of that. I told myself that it was not up to me. That whatever He wanted to do was "by definition" supposed to be alright with me.

So there we were, all snuggled up, with Him stroking the spot that is supposed to create "ecstasy" while I cried silent tears into His chest. You can imagine His confusion. In the end, I told Him what it was that I was thinking; how angry and frustrated I was feeling; how I believed that it would just be better to not try for the sexual pleasure part of all of this -- just not do that because having it set up and then blown away was too hard. "So, please," I begged Him, "can't we just do the paddling and skip the stuff that is supposed to make this feel good? It is going to be easier for me if I just give that part up and quit expecting it." In the end, we made love, and let it go at that.

But of course, that wasn't the end of it. Like the good Master He is, He came right back after me, unwilling to let me simply fade back into the place where I submitted without joy or hope.

This morning, waking in the drowsy pleasure of being home after a two-day meeting in our capital city, He pulled me tightly to Him and began that soft but insistent stroking that takes me out of my "head" and puts me IN my body. If I had any thought at all of struggling or resisting, His tight embrace kept me exactly where He wanted me.

In time, I quit thinking, settled into my body, and just let Him take me where He was planning for us to go. Once He had me there, He handled me carefully, avoiding the paddles that He knew would drop me out of the spell He was weaving. Instead, He used a leather strap and a rattan cane to keep building the intensity of the session. Instead, He teased my sensitive and awake skin with a knife. Instead, He kept me pulled in close, keeping me secure, and monitoring the responses that He was eliciting. When, at the end of the caning, He turned me lose only to have me suddenly explode into a spontaneous orgasm, He didn't miss the opportunity to go back after me with the cane and push the event even further.

This time, when we made love, it wasn't about submission; not about service. This morning, it wasn't about me understanding that I am His slave, and that I do as I am required to do. Nor was it about it being my pleasure to serve Him in this way. This morning, it was the two of us connected, joined, taken to the heights of joy and pleasure together. When He achieved His own release this morning, I wasn't far behind Him.

I don't know. We probably still don't have the magical formula. Still, we have more information and a clearer sense of the way the path wanders. It is probably going to keep on being challenging for us. There will be plenty of places where I struggle. He has promised that there WILL be paddlings -- perhaps just not associated with sex. I feel sure though, that He will not let me give up. That is the purest root of my trust in Him.


swan

Polyamory Observations #8

A recent piece ("Whole Lotta Love") at Salon.com had some glimpses into the evolving thinking of people who are living poly lives. Reading it gives a good overview of the width and depth of the community.

One thing that struck me was the comment made by Cherie Ve Ard (who has lived as part of two different quads):
"It wasn't something we went looking for..."

I think that simple statement caught my attention precisely because we've said it ourselves so often. Because we live in a poly household, we sometimes get looked to as "authorities" on the how to's of doing this. It often leads us to making the disclaimer that we didn't start out to become poly. Rather, we found ourselves with the relationship realities and polyamory became the solution that made it all work and make sense -- it was, for us, the path that allowed us all to have our loves and not lose.

It seems to me that, if there is the potential for those who are new to the idea and practice of polyamory to go "astray," it lies in the urge to generate poly relationships. Most often, when we've found poly people who make a success of this kind of relating, they will say something very much like that simple, "it wasn't something we went looking for..." It is my sense that people have much better success at this when their relationships grow responsively to the actual reality of multiple loves that exist. When poly becomes a positive, creative, mutual, solution shared between partners rather than a theoretical construct, it fits better and grows up much more naturally and organically than otherwise.

And really, it is odd to me that people seem to not understand that. Generally, I think, people believe that the more traditional sort of "falling in love" couple-style happens as it happens. To be sure, it is good and healthy and positive to put oneself out in the places where you might meet potential partners, but I don't know very many people who successfully "shop" for partners like they might go to the pet store. Most of us understand that coming to be "in love" follows on other steps in relationship building like forming an acquaintance and then a friendship. To be sure, there are perennially books that suggest more mechanical and aggressive approaches to "finding the perfect mate" -- things with titles like "SOUL MATES –Find Your Perfect Match Now!” It seems there is always someone ready to make a fast dollar on the desperation of those who are tired of looking for love... But, if it is as complicated as we all know it can be to form a single successful love pairing, we really shouldn't believe that it is going to be any simpler to create relationships that involve multiple partners.

It is a paradox, really. Trying to "force" poly relationships into being is generally awkward and artificial. On the other hand, staying open and available to the potential, without pushing or expecting, can allow the possibility to materialize. I suspect that that balance is the tricky point for most people who identify as "poly," but are not presently within the relationships that they envision. The longer I think about this, the more I am reminded of the Kahil Gibran quote:

"And think not you can guide the course of love. For love, if it finds you worthy, shall guide your course."

swan

The Wall Street Journal?

Sometimes life can be so strange.
We've had some pretty wild links along the way. And some of them have really taken our stats through the roof. We often shake our heads in wonderment at the bizarre nature of writing here: some things that we put up seem to get very little notice, and other things surprise us and elicit all kinds of reaction...

However, I'm guessing that our occasional surprise is nothing compared to the sort of surprise that some poor, unsuspecting reader got when he/she clicked on the link to the last post about my stolen spare tire from this article at The Wall Street Journal .

We didn't get a huge number of hits from this one, but enough to bump our stats and make us notice. And... the really amusing part is, they kept coming back. I wonder what it was about my imaginary tire theft that so fascinated all those folks? Hmmmmm?

And they call us kinky!

swan

Who Stole my Spare Tire?

OK.
It is really and truly summertime, and, while I am not noticing that I am feeling particularly "blonde," clearly my teacher brain has officially and definitely gone on vacation.
Much to Master's vast amusement.
So, here's the story:
Part of the resolution of the "car crisis" involves turning in the leased Toyota Matrix that I have been driving for the last four years. That needs to occur by the end of this week, or by the beginning of next week at the latest. I think I have gotten all of the "technical" stuff handled. So all that was really needed for me to do yesterday was to clean up the actual vehicle: clean the inside and vacuumn and wash it. Not too demanding and certainly not complicated. They pay high school students minimum wage to do this work.
It was a lovely, very hot, sunny day. But, I'm on summer vacation, so not a problem. I got into my shorts, grabbed my window cleaner and paper towels, dragged the vacumn cleaner out to the driveway, filled my bucket up, and hooked up the hose. I emptied out all the "stuff" that has accumulated in my car over these years, and set to work.
I used to be the official cleaner for my dad's cars, and as I worked away, it was almost nostalgic. Dad was always particular about his windows and dashboards and such and so the business of doing the cleaning and polishing of the interior of the car was a pleasant memory for me.
Just as I was finishing the interior of the car, working on the hatch area, I opened the storage compartment where the spare tire is stored, and stood looking into the interior where there was a large, circular space -- clean as a whistle, and completely empty.
I just stood there, utterly dumbfounded, looking at the tire jack and the tools and the large, round, empty space.
And then, thinking quickly, I slammed the cover back down and locked it. I just couldn't believe it! My spare tire. Gone! No spare tire. Where could it have gone? How long had it been gone? Who would have taken my spare tire? How could they have done that? Why would anyone take the spare tire and nothing else?
I whirled through a gazillion questions.
And, honestly, this whole business has been such a gigantic pain that I just couldn't think about it. I grabbed the bucket and brush and went to work washing the outside of the car -- still in a complete dither.
I was about a third of the way through that part of the process when Master called, on His way home from work. I told Him what I was doing and told Him about the spare tire theft. He questioned me, none too gently, making it clear that, obviously if someone had stolen the tire, I'd left the car unlocked at some point and set that possibility up (I don't EVER leave the car unlocked except here at home inside the garage). He told me THEY would probably charge me $500 for the missing tire when I turned the car in. He suggested that I should call the police, but I was sure that if HE didn't believe me, they wouldn't either... so what was the point?
He eventually hung up, and I finished washing the outside of the car, feeling the way you feel when you know that "Master" thinks you've been an idiot.
I put everything away, disconnected the hose, and headed inside to get online and see if I could locate a cheap replacement for the spare tire.
That's where I was when He got home.
The very first thing He did was grab the keys and head out to the driveway. I knew He was going to go look. I knew He just didn't believe me. So, I followed Him out, sad, dejected, hoping against hope that somehow Master would make something magic happen and FIX this for me.
He opened the hatch and unlocked the storage compartment. There it was -- the big, round, empty space, and all the neatly arranged tools. He began to tug and pull at the storage compartment floor, and then started to chuckle. "Honey, He said, this is the cover. The tire is underneath this. Put your hand in here. Here's the rim and here's the rubber. The tire is right here."
Now.
Friends.
I could tell you that I felt stupid at that moment, and I suppose at some level I probably did. All of you are probably laughing at how really "girly" dumb I was. But, I've got to tell you that all I really felt at that moment was relieved and thrilled. Master really did FIX it. He came home, used His amazing crime-solving skills, and took care of the mystery of my stolen spare tire!
Of course, I have PAID for it. He has laughed and teased me unmercifully during every waking minute ever since. It makes Him laugh until I'm afraid He will fall on the floor.
For my part, I am claiming that it was the HEAT. That's my story and I'm sticking to it!

swan

Master and Tommy Chong on Paris Hilton?

To be completely honest, I think the whole business of Paris Hilton and her in / out / in jail saga is just silly. I've paid as little attention to the whole business as I could manage. But then I saw this little bit, and I figured that here was news coverage that made sense. Besides, it is, I am sure, the approach that Master would take...



swan

I'd Sure Like to Dom u...

I have, lately, been accosted by a Yahoo Messenger "visitor." He is golden retriever eager, and self-identifies as "dom." He found me, it seems, through one of the group lists that I am part of, and, when he chooses to initiate conversation, he always begins at what I would consider the 6-week point (and I'm not even going to address the cyber-speak which, in my humble opinion, marks a person as too lazy to engage in simple English discourse):

"are u married?

are u submissive?
are u permitted to play with others?
I sure would like to dom u."

I find that I want to take this poor would be "dom," and shake some sense into him. Because it is clear he has no sense at all of where he is missing the boat in that little monologue.

In the first place, that eager, puppy, tail-wagging, can I please sound just does not "get it." If you expect to sell someone on the story that you are a "dominant," then act the part. Step up and take control. Assume the mantle of authority and responsibility. Don't whine, wheedle, plead, and beg. It is unseemly and inappropriate. If you are going to grovel like a sissy-maid submissive, take it somewhere else.

Another bit of advice that I want to give the poor fellow is that he needs to learn about some basic manners and rules of engagement. I wonder that he doesn't seem to understand that it is extremely bad form to attempt to play with someone else's toys without permission. From the very first time he approached me with his desire to "dom me," I made it clear to him that I was "owned," not looking for another "dominant," and encouraged him to contact Master about his interest in playing with me. He did actually have a chat with Master who made it clear to him that I wasn't interested in playing with him, and also was clear that I wasn't "up for grabs." Anyway you slice it, he doesn't "have permission."

But... even if there was "permission;" even if there was some sort of desire for the potential of D/s play between this person and me, that would develop from a relationship. I would have to know something about this person. Master would have to know something about him. There would have to be some information that told us something more about him than the fact that he thinks that he is a dom. How is it possible that this character fails to understand that this might need to begin with something as simple as "getting to know each other?" Is it so difficult to conceptualize that something as intense and vulnerable as a D/s relationship might be founded on something more than 20 words on an IM screen -- especially when half of those words aren't even written in what looks like legitimate English (oops -- is my bias showing here)?

I think that we are pretty open and welcoming people. I imagine that someone in our local area who took the time to get to know us, and who let us get to know them; who presented themselves in our world as a multi-dimensional, well-brought-up, civilized, respectful human being with some integrity, might quite easily find themselves invited to dinner -- and perhaps be welcomed to join in some levels of "play." We are not shy. We play in public dungeons whenever we have the opportunity, and we've actively sought out and welcomed "friends" into our lives and homes. But, we don't play on street corners with strangers. What we do is not something that we do lightly or without sincere consideration. We don't engage in it without knowing who we are and we don't "mess" with those who demonstrate that they have no concept of the true nature of what it really is -- or who seem to have no interest in growing into that understanding. Too, for us, friendship is a precious and treasured gem and we take it quite seriously. If you want to be included in our circle, you need to act like a "friend," and not like some "smash and grab" thief who is only interested in taking what you think you want.

swan

Six Years

Anniversaries mark the passages of our lives and it has seemed that time flies past us with increasing speed lately.

Still, it is hard for me to comprehend that it was six years ago that my dear loves almost literally snuck away on a bright June Saturday and found a "marrying judge" and made legal and official the reality of their love for one another. I remember it as clearly as if it were just last week -- the "oh my gosh" scramble to find some meaningful gift to give on the occasion that had come to pass with so little fanfare... Today marks the "anniversary" of that day, and it has been a wild and busy and full day when there has scarcely been time to even acknowledge the import of impact of that single moment when the two of them chose to cement a bond that has become the keystone of our family.

The sixth anniversary is, by tradition, the "iron" anniversary, and the gifts exchanged have been appropriate to that tradition: a remastering of an old Iron Butterfly album on CD and a lovely iron ornament for the garden...

For me, there is the rather remarkable fact that a significant part of the day has been spent in resolving a "crisis" relating to the end of my current automobile lease, leading to the purchase of a brand new car. Without significant effort and input from both T and Master, the liklihood of me being able to continue in the current path of our lives was going to be compromised in ways that I could not even begin to comprehend. They never waivered, and the crisis was averted. So the "iron" at the core of our family was demonstrated in concrete terms.

Love lives in this place. Love lives between two most amazing and loving people. Love lives and grows and blossoms between the two people who mean the whole world to me.

Happiest of anniversaries, my dear ones!

swan

The Magic Spot

It is easy, I think, for those who look in from the outside at what it is that we do to wonder whether there is something inherently unfair, nasty, maybe even abusive in the defined inequity of our relationship. The question implied or spoken outright comes, now and again, in different guises and with different tones from so many voices -- respectful and curious and concerned and occasionally mean-spirited. It comes down to the query as to whether Master somehow pays adequate, appropriate, sufficient (pick the word that fits) attention to my needs and wants.

It is a difficult question to answer as posed, because it is founded on assumptions that begin in a set of norms that are radically different than those from which we work. Still, I am only human, and I DO have wants. I want, sometimes, to have things come together in that kind of magical, synergistic wonderment that makes everything seem fabulous from start to finish.

The problem has not been a lack of intent or desire to have that happen on Master's part. I believe that He would have me soaring to screaming orgasms everyday, and rejoice in the event. The issue has been me and the state of my sexual responsiveness in these last months. I simply have not found the easy pathways to arousal or release that I once took for granted. He quite often asks me what would be "good for me," and I have been at a loss to answer that question. The physical/emotional sense of being aroused and sexually "ready" seems as fleeting and unpredictable to me as the appearance of some rare and shy wild creature. And so the two of us have found ourselves in a state of mutual bafflement and frustration. When things go badly, as they did last week, it gets even harder because, although we both know that there is no blame, it still feels "heavy" between us. Too, each time we smack into one of those disasters, the next few encounters become laden with anxiety and a tentativeness that don't increase our chances for "success" however one might choose to define it.

But we are sturdy, determined, and perhaps more than a little crazy. We are also wildly in love with one another. So, once again, this morning, we climbed on the same horse that threw us so badly last weekend. Actually, we tried the "ride" yesterday morning, and well, it was far from spectacular, but it wasn't horrible either.

I really do try not to come to these things with expectations. Expectations, when one is slave, are really an enormous trap. The odds are that believing that you are entitled to some particular outcome will result in disappointment (at a minimum), and most likely get you slapped down quite soundly.

So the morning began, as ours often do, with the lead up moves to a spanking and some love making. He usually pulls me in quite closely, and holds me tightly and begins to stroke my back and ass as He gets into His own headspace. That can often go on for awhile. This morning, He asked me what might be good for me, and I told Him I did not know. We talked some about some odd and disjointed dream sequences that I'd had the night before, and things continued to move along without much deviation from our usual routine. I was pretty much in my head; doing my usual self-talk about being His and needing to "be good," and clearing away the chatter that sometimes can get in my way during a session -- the sort of pre-scene stuff that I have come to think of as "housekeeping."

Then, quite by accident and unexpectedly, He hit THE SPOT. Right at the base of my spine in the small of my back... a place that feels round and maybe two inches in diameter and incredibly sensuous and sensitive and awake. In someways, it tickles to be stroked there, but the sensations are far more intense than tickles. I'm not sure I've known about it before this morning. But we both know about it now. In very short order, as he rubbed and stroked me there, He had me purring, moaning, and squirming -- and ready to go. Ready for just about anything. Miracle of miracles!

I stayed up against His chest and in His hands as He strapped me, and the fire built higher. He asked me if I was ready for the paddle, and I was so confused I didn't exactly know what to tell Him. It wasn't that I didn't want the paddle. What I didn't want was to be separated from Him. I didn't want space between us. I was desparate for the contact -- for His touch. Eventually, I managed to make that clear and He assured me that I'd be right there with Him no matter what. And, so I asked for Him to paddle me and He did and I rode right through it, still hot and still ready and still sure and secure. I was beginning to feel both desperate to fuck and exultant about the scene itself as He switched to the cane. Flying. Clinging to Him. Roaring through the pain. Finding the path again.

He left me breathless, but I managed the customary and required "thank you for my spanking, Sir." That usually ends the session part and leads us to lovemaking, but He got me for another few strokes with the Delrin cane. Oh well. Whatever He wanted, I didn't care as long as He was happy with me and would let me make love with Him. And that He did, and it was glorious and boisterous and wild and awesome and -- oh... Today was a very good day!

I am not easy. Far more complicated than I was four or five years ago. Like a cantankerous old diesel engine, I take some coaxing and warming up before I run smoothly and well these days. The adjustments that have been forced upon us by our assorted transitions into "maturity" have not been easy or particularly graceful, but we are learning. There has been so much of this that has been trial and error. There are no road maps or how-to manuals that we have found -- precious little in the way of good, reliable information about how to navigate the waters of hot, kinky, eroticism into these middle passages. Maybe someday, someone traveling these same roads will find the words we are leaving behind and find that their path is a bit easier because we've come this way. That would be a very good thing.

swan

Moving to Change Your Life

Just a bit ago, I was involved here in a sort of "conversation" with a commenter who was hoping that I might offer some advice or encouragement about the decision of moving to be with a partner in this lifestyle... The conversation was not all that clear and I'm not sure that the answers that I gave were very satisfactory. In the end, what I think might have been the root question: "what did you have to do to get to the point of making the move?" has stuck in my mind.



So, since I have done this and (at least by my own lights made a pretty good success of it), let me see if I can put some useful words around this.



To begin with, it probably should go without saying that everyone is different with different needs and desires and goals and requirements for this kind of decision making. I understand that, and I am not trying to be at all prescriptive here. I do, however, think that there may be some "scaffolding" that could be put around the thinking one might do in preparation for this kind of decision point thta might be both helpful and somewhat portable from situation to situation. That's what I'd like to outline here.



Three areas I'm going to address: time perception, resource availability, and intensity of connectivity.



Time Perception:

In making a major, life-changing decision like a move across the country to enter an alternative lifestyle relationship, there are two "time" anchored perceptions that impact the way we contemplate the process. There is "history" and there is "future." All of us come to the decision point with personal histories, and most of us have hopes for the future. These two time "spaces" and how we think about them have an enormous influence on the way we consider a move that changes our present reality.

I think it is important to understand that neither the past nor the future are "real" in the sense that they do not actually exist as does the present moment. Personal history shapes each of us. It instructs and informs and forms the path which we see whenever we look back to where we come from. Our personal history is the story about who we have been and where we come from. It is the collection of memories and keepsakes that are stored in our memory, and without it, we would have no present in which to stand. And it is not real.

Too, the future is a projection. Future time exists as a "potential," or more correctly a collection of potentials. This is the classic rhetorical "what if." One of the things that makes projecting into the future so difficult is that we cannot reliably predict what may come to pass in that "time space" because, like the past, it isn't real. It is imaginary. It simply does not exist as a reality. We will, should we continue living, move forward into a time which is beyond what we can perceive of as present, but when we arrive there, it will be our present.

As we contemplate making a major life changing move, investing large amounts of energy in preserving the past, or protecting the future can put us into a state of paralysis. Moves necessitate leaving much of the past behind, and they plunge us into situations where the future becomes increasingly difficult to predict. If we acknowledge that it is only the present that actually exists, it becomes much easier to pack up a few treasured mementos, make a reasonable plan for a bit of future security, and then strike off boldly into the life that is standing right in front of us.

Resource Availability:
Leaving a place of familiarity and comfort and heading off to someplace and someone new to begin a whole new life is an awesome undertaking. It is best to understand exactly what reserves and resources are at your disposal when you set out on such a journey. Far too many people leap off into the void on the strength of a wish or a dream, and without adequate provisions for the trip. This is simply foolishness.

Not all resources are financial, although it is helpful to have some reasonable way of supporting oneself, or at least an understanding of how that necessity is going to get taken care of. If there is going to be a need to acquire employment in the new location, what is that going to involve and how difficult will that process be? Will there be some lag time in securing an income? How, exactly are the necessities of daily living going to be handled? Life becomes very grim very quickly when there's no place to live and nothing to eat and no decent medical care. Moving can be an expensive undertaking.

If the financial end of things seems clear, then it is prudent to contemplate what other resources are available to you as you make a transition to another life. Relocating can be stressful in the short term, but the stresses of learning to live comfortably in a new place can go on way past the point where the moving truck departs. It takes time to become comfortable; to understand how to find the grocery and the post office and the veterinarian and the pharmacist; to comprehend the way the weather moves through an area; to know the local "slang." So, it is good to understand how flexible you are, how adventurous, how resilient, how good-humored, how sturdy, how trusting. All of these are resources that will be called upon to get you through the first weeks and months in a new place. There are other resources as well -- do you have friends where you are going? Will you have outside interests or hobbies that you can attach to? How will you make contacts within a new community? Evaluate the resources that you have at your disposal in order to understand what it is that you carry with you into your new life.

Intensity of Connectivity:
This last seems obvious to me, but I am often surprised at how often people jump to relocate to relationships where there is very little to base the connection on. A shared fetish, or a congruence of fantasies is hardly sufficient to stand one's whole life on its head. Our lives are not uni-dimensional, and when we contemplate creating a life with a partner who will form a major focus of our world, there ought to be some significant connection beyond the "slap and tickle" of it all. This is a very difficult and dangerous area of this process because the drive toward sexual coupling is extremely compelling in the human animal, and no matter what anyone tells you, what we do is sexy at very deep levels. New relationship energy is a very tricky beastie. So, it is critical to watch and pay attention to how the relationship develops. Is there any foundation beyond the "heat" of it all? What do partners know about one another? Have they woven a rich tapestry of connection between them?

I realize there are no answers here. I'm no guru. I only know I made the transition once and it was and has been good. I'm not sure I analyzed all of this so critically or clinically. Perhaps I should have. I had no one to give me any direction. I don't think, with all of this in the balance, I'd have chosen differently, but that's just me...

swan

Struggling to Give this one up

Everytime I think I have this business of being His "handled," I run smack into some other spot that puts me face to face with just how far I am from really releasing the control completely. Some little thing will come up where I still have a death grip on some part of life that feels like it ought to be MINE, and I get my back up in a heartbeat.

Like for instance...

Dreams and fantasies. If I've got hold of some fantasy, then (please note my pouty face) it is MY fantasy/dream, and I do not appreciate having it messed with -- thank you very much!

Which is exactly where things got interesting last weekend.

I woke up from a dream that felt sexy. I was turned on and feeling positive and hopeful about what we might be able to do with that in terms of playing together if we could tag onto those feelings. One of the things that I struggle with in terms of our SM is that it is (from my perspective) usually intense right from the start. I almost always feel as if I am scrambling to keep up and hold on. There is never anytime for me to "catch" up with it and get the benefit of the endorphins that might help me ride the wave. And there is very little that feels "sexy" within that context, so there is the emotional/intellectual "pleasure" of knowing that I'm submitting (and hopefully pleasing Him), but generally no physical or erotic pleasure.

So, as He woke up, I shared my dream with Him. It wasn't really complicated. I'd been dreaming of some small jaw-style hair clips being put onto my nipples and labia, and then as the pain of that built and built, I'd "slipped" into a spanking that was way more erotic than what I usually experience. It was, for me, a gateway fantasy -- an imagined pathway from small and building bits of pain up toward the more difficult levels where we usually play. Simple, I thought.

Right away, as soon as I'd spoken the words, He took off with it. First it was, that He would put the clips on me and then send me out to cut switches. Then He decided to paddle me first before starting in with the clips, and then again once they were on -- using one of the more wicked paddles in the arsenal.

It just made me angry. No slow entry. No gateway. Intensity right from the start. By the time we finally got to the clips, I was OVER IT. It wasn't going to be MY dream. It was His. He'd taken what I'd given Him and run off with it. AND that wasn't the end of it either. The clips would need to be removed by whipping them off...

I was hysterically frightened and furiously angry. At some point, I was full on in flight mode, slammed up against the far wall, defiantly refusing to have anything to do with it all. I did eventually get back into position and back in line, but there was no joy and nothing sexy left in the whole business. It was misery and torment and anguish and panic.

It has taken me most of the week to work it out. To understand that I don't get to have MY fantasies; don't get to expect to have some sort of soft, easy, lead in to sessions. It has been a week where I've whirled through the seemingly mundane stuff of my "normal" life while I chewed on what felt like the complete disaster of that encounter.

My initial reaction, after it was all over with, was that I just need to stop sharing my dreams and my fantasies. After all, it never goes well and I just end up disappointed and frustrated. I knew, even as I thought that thought, that it was falacious, but I needed to calm down and consider before I could get hold of the understanding that I don't have the RIGHT to expect that my dreams or fantasies will be played out as I like them just because I might want it that way. This, too, is His and not mine.

That is not easy to accept. I want to, sometimes, be helped into this; to be gentled along just a little. It feels grim and dismal to face a lifetime of sessions which will be mismatched to my "speed," and therefore almost always terribly difficult and distressing. Part of me wishes there were some option, some alternative, some fall back position.

And then I remember myself. Try to find the quiet place. Try to settle down and remember that it won't always end in disaster. Try to remind myself that there are the times when I do fly. And try to stay clear that it doesn't matter because it is all up to Him.

swan

The Voice of God

Yesterday I was off to my state's capital. I have worked for the last 32 years as an advocate for the civil rights of marginalized populations, particularly those with disabilities. I was accompanied by a colleague on my staff who is someone who has a disability. We were going to testify before a legislative committee opposing a bill that would, if enacted, damage the ability of people with disabilities to live successfully in their communities. It was not one of the most major battles in the decades long quest to return people who 50 years ago we routinely incarcerated in state institutes from childhood until they died, to becoming our valued friends, neighbors, and co-workers. It was however a skirmish that would, if lost, be a setback that would have very real harmful consequences in some lives. So we were off to talk to our lawmakers about those effects.

Now I have to tell you that many people find standing at the podium before their legislators in a state house hearing room, dreadfully fearsome and anxiety provoking. I've had witnesses who were accomplished professionals who practically urinated themselves when their name was called and they walked to the podium, only to find their mouth had gone dry, and they could only recall half what they might say.

I was gong to speak but primarily I was providing context and background for the legislators to understand fully the testimony of my companion. He is a gentleman who has come to work in our field as an advocate and is someone who has cognitive disabilities. He is courageous and has testified several times before. Every time this has occurred before he has at the last minute made it to the podium with his testimony script shaking, faced the microphone, and at the last minute turned to me and whispered plaintively, "You read it." And as I read his "speech" he'd nod his head affirmatively as if to say this is my message to you.

Yesterday was different. We'd talked on the long drive there about how today he was going to testify. I'd written his testimony (he is only barely literate) but with his input and consent. The moment came. I'd arranged for us to be called together and we stood there as I spoke and then introduced him. I felt huge joy as he began to speak. He didn't follow his "script." He spoke of his truth and from his heart. He was powerful and compelling in his simple basic English and truth.

Then it happened. As he testified a voice on a loud speaker system boomed into the room. There was someone somewhere in the state house setting up a loud speaker system and as they tested it they must have hit the wrong switch and their test message was broadcast in our hearing room. It said very loudly "One, two, three testing......THIS IS THE VOICE OF GOD!"
My colleague stopped mid-syllable turning his eyes to heaven. He knew his audience were people of awesome power, but he had not expected God to be there. I whispered to him it was just a speaker system and someone making it work. He said, "No it's not. It's God!" He looked at the Charmian of the Committee and said "should I go on?" He said, "yes" so he continued but with a much more reverent voice. I know he believes that not only did we address this minor committee but that too God had been there. I felt like I was trapped in a scene from Forrest Gump.

My great joy is that he spoke.........himself. And I bet from now on he always will speak. What the heck! Once you've testified before God who can possibly intimidate you in future audiences?

Beyond that I was impressed, that I am old. I sat there in that hearing room wondering how many dozens of hearings I've attended over the years and the lady behind me introduced herself. She is the new legislative liaison for the state department our advocacy relates to. We will likely collaborate and at times cross swords. She is clearly in her early forties. She reminded me how she knew me. As I began this career in my twenties I used to attend as a consultant the Board of a rural county's advocacy agency comprised of families advocating for their children with disabilities. Their leader had a daughter who came with her to meetings, and who sat on the sideline, doing her homework, or who used to ride her skateboard in the hallway outside the meeting room. She is now the state department's legislative liaison and recalls me as the out of town "expert" who used to attend her mom's meetings. She clearly feels that in growing to work with me professionally she has "grown up," and grown up she clearly has. I am finding that this overlap of my past and present realities is making me realize the length of time I have been at this...and it is coming to be a long time.

It was a good day on many levels. I was reminded graphically that I am old, and we spoke with God.

All the best:)

Tom

Go confidently in the direction of your dreams. Live the life you've imagined.