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