Still Here

School has started.
The temperature has been in the very high nineties. Outside the building. Inside? Probably warmer than that. Brutal. The sort of heat that causes dripping, whimpering, mind-melting, stupid, grogginess within only a few (very few minutes) -- and then there's the other six or so hours.
My kids are wonderful. Engaged, eager, interesting. I have a gang of about four or five bully boys who are learning that MY class room is not the place to try to intimidate or abuse other people. They are learning that in MY classroom, I am the one who will control things. They are also learning that I will smile and guide and advise and share their joys and triumphs even as I insist and demand that they behave like civilized young animals.
I am exhausted tonight. A very long, very satisfying, very intense week.
Going back to school is hard for all of us on so many levels.
There's really nothing interesting for me to tell any of you -- nothing SM'y; none of what you come here to see. Sorry. You all know where you can go to find that sort of stuff. Dial "younger" and "sexier." Move along.
Odd coincidence. I was headed off to school this morning -- a thousand things going on in my mind. Getting on the highway for the drive when I happened to look at the car just ahead of me. It had a vanity license plate which read, "Eye Obey." Okay. One of ours? I got on my cell phone and called Himself... It was simply too amazingly funny. I had the almost overpowering urge to pull the driver over and tell her that I obey too...

swan

They are Home!

They are home! My family came pulling into the driveway just about 10 PM last night after driving straight through from Washington DC to be here last night. They were pretty exhausted and by the time we got the car unloaded and a bit of a snack, we were a tired, but happy family.

I am happy!

It has been a quiet day here, but we are just glad to be back together again. The kitty cats are settling back down, and so are all of us. I sure did sleep better. We are just way better here, in our home, together.

swan

"Dating" Persona?

I don't usually do these things. But I've been up since 4:30 AM. I don't sleep well without being tucked in tight underneath His chest. I'm tired. I'm lonely. I'm frazzled.

So. Here's the truth -- there are darned few (it would seem) who can or would even bother to try to do what Himself has done with relative ease...

The Wild Rose Colorful, but unpicked. You are The Wild Rose. Prone to bouts of cynicism, sarcasm, and thorns, you excite a certain kind of man. Hoping to gather you up, he flirts and winks and asks you out, ultimately professing his love. Then you make him bleed. Why? Because you're the rare, independent, self-sufficient kind of woman who does want love, but not from a weakling. You don't seem to take yourself too seriously, and that's refreshing. You aren't uptight; you don't over-plan. Romance-wise, sex isn't a top priority--a true relationship would be preferable. For your age, you haven't had a lot of bonafide love experience, though, and this kind of gets to core of the issue. You're very selective. You have lofty standards that few measure up to. You're out there all right, but not to be picked up by just anyone. Link: The Online Dating Persona Test @ OkCupid - free online dating.

Glowing Like a Horse

They say:

"Horses sweat, men perspire, and ladies glow."

Believe me, as I have worked these last few days, preparing my classroom for the return of my kids, I have glowed like a Clydesdale! Ours is an 87-year-old school building with lots of big, tall windows and high ceilings. There isn't anything even remotely resembling a cooling system in the place. We all drag in our fans, but it is really an exercise in group fantasizing. We just all agree to imagine that those humming, spinning blades are causing it to be cooler in the saunas which will soon be teaming with hot, sweaty, youngsters.

Still, the desks are all arranged. The textbooks are laid out neatly, waiting to be passed out on the first day. The bulletin boards are all up. I have a neat little "fish pond" complete with a fountain and some water plants and a dozen hungry gold fish. There's a place for all the plants and animals that will hopefully come to live with us as we study life science through the year. The math materials are all out and ready to go. The classroom library is all neat and tidy. The shelves are straightened. The students' mailboxes are all set up. My desk is organized. The first week's handouts have been run off. I am ready...

Now all I need is a roomful of children!

swan

Maybe Not as Tough as I Must Look

There's a fine line between participation and mockery. -- Scott Adams, Dilbert

It is interesting. I have been writing about my life and our lives here in cyber space for a good long while now. Those who have been reading from the beginning, have weathered ups and downs and ups and downs of all kinds with me and with us. There have been joys and sorrows, fear and silliness, celebrations and crises -- all poured out here in a flood of words that, when I look back at them all are pretty staggering.

I know that what I write here is only a very narrow view. It is what I choose to write; what I feel I CAN write. Sometimes I choose not to share details or events for a wide variety of reasons. I can go "quiet" here because I am busy, or tired, or stressed, or baffled, or uncertain, or angry, or bored, or confused, or ... I also tend to protect the privacy of our family -- more so than I do my own. I'll expose myself without too much fuss, but I'm far more cautious and careful about hanging the other folks that live around here out for everybody to peer at. Then, too, there are the days when, try as I might, I just cannot make sense of whatever there is -- and so I just let things sit, or I make starts at writing that then languish in the draft mode until they just die of old age and neglect. However the words appear here, I am determined that they will be as truthful as I can make them be... I'd rather not write anything at all than fill up the screen with fluff and fiction.

I think though, that all those words give people the impression that they "know" me; that knowing the things that can be garnered from reading here, they can make a fair assessment about the person I am. I think people assume that I am tougher and braver than I really am sometimes. I think people read all that "masochistic" stuff, and somehow just figure that I must be a real "stoic" when it comes to the emotional side of things. It feels to me that people assume that the sexual/erotic BDSM practice that forms the core of my relationship translates into a kind of brashness and nonchalance about the places where that takes me.

I can understand how those kinds of impressions form. People who read this blog know more about me than the people I work with; more about me than my neighbors; more about me than any of my siblings...

I get very few overtly "negative" comments, and there is seldom anything that openly attacks me or us. Most of our readership is unbelievably kind, supportive, and "faithful." So, when the assumptions that get made about how I "must" be show up, it is almost always subtle. It is the presumption that the fact that I am a "masochist" means that my heart is not tender. It is the presumption that my status as "slave" means that I do not have feelings or fears or struggles.

I think it is hard to reconcile the contradictions -- the clear-eyed, determined, deliberate, sure, and intentional choices and decisions that brought me into this life and this place seem to belie the softness, the fearfulness, the tenderness that are also realities. The openess of this day in and day out chronicle of my path and our lives gives strangers entree, and makes them feel as if they know me. It just must be that I am prone to "look tougher" here sometimes than I really am

swan

Just Me and The Cats

Himself has to attend a four-day conference in Washington, D. C. this week.

T was able to get time off from work, and travel with Him.

They left (driving) yesterday afternoon, and arrived at their hotel this afternoon just about three P.M.

With school starting a week from tomorrow, there was no way that I could leave and go with them. So, I am here being the "Cat Mommy," working to get my classroom ready, staying in touch as much as possible by phone, and trying not to count EVERY SINGLE MINUTE until they are back here where they belong.

swan

Trip to the Stocks

I really wasn't ready. Somehow, I'd managed to convince myself that the session in the stocks would probably happen on Saturday. I don't know why. We hadn't really talked about it, and I guess I just assumed that He'd get to it when the work week was over, and there was "more time."


So, when He said, "I think we'll put you in the stocks for your spanking this morning," my stomach dropped to my feet and my breath whooshed out of my lungs as my blood pounded in my ears. For a few minutes, I just held on to Him, trying to settle myself down -- not saying anything, just wanting to get hold of the solidity of His physical presence to try and anchor my rushing emotions.


He didn't let that go on very long, and it was off to the stocks in short order. Probably that was a good thing. I imagine, that, left too long in my head, I'd have worked myself into a full on panic.


It is never easy getting into the stocks. Today, it seemed particularly difficult. Somehow, my wrists wouldn't fit in the appropriate holes without rubbing and pinching. They just hurt. From start to finish. He did adjust it and it was some better, but not great. Enough better that I was able to calm down and settle in for the session. Wood is just not at all forgiving. It clamps down and that is IT.


He knows that I struggle, and He started carefully with me, giving me the gift of a warm up hand spanking. Just the physical contact helped me. I can't see Him once I'm in the stocks, and He's not a big talker in session, so I can end up feeling alone and isolated. Knowing all of that, He really did go to great lengths to guide me through this one...


I'm not sure which implements He used. I think there may have been a crop and a strap. I know that He used a paddle and the rubber flogger. I know I cried and begged and eventually just simply declared that it was hurting my hands... I know that I asked, at one point, how long I had to stay there, and He told me that I had to stay until my spanking was done. No comfort there.

In the end, when I was completely "done." I had to hang in long enough for Him to take a couple of pictures (I hope you are happy, Jack). He took two, but only one is very clear. Trust me, it wasn't the subject that was moving...





swan

Words -- Master/slave, Ownership, Power Exchange

Words.

As long as I have done this, people have wrestled and wrangled over the meanings and definitions of terms and words. There's a raging debate going on about the nature of "true" Dominance and submission on a list that I read right now. Another conversation is trying to sort out the differences, if there are any, between "Owners" and "Masters" and "Daddys."

I am of a mixed mind about this. I believe that words have power. Words can shape our thinking and our perceptions. I like words that can be used with precision and intention to structure meaning. I think that we use words to communicate, and that when we are clear about what we mean when we use a particular word or expression, it makes it easier for us all to talk reasonably about what it is that we do. On the other hand, I've seen the labels used far too often as clubs to bash people over the head, create stratification, elevate gurus, and solidify factionalization where there didn't need to be any. So, I know that words can be used to harm. So, here's some of what I've been thinking about some of those kinds of things:

I dislike "One-True-Way-Ism." Whether we are talking about BDSM, or religion, or politics, or cooking, or fitness, or fishing, or how to sort socks, I hate it when someone tries to tell me that their way is THE way and my way is therefore, by definition, not THE way. My way (or more correctly, His way) is THE way for me, and if you have some issue with that, then I don't actually have any reason to waste my breath talking to you. I am continually bemused, as I read and converse with people in "cyberia" who have a few months of experience (maybe), and then put themselves out as the judge of everything and everyone. If there is one thing that I've learned along the way, it is that I know way more questions than I do answers at this point. About all I can offer, by way of wisdom, for the most part anymore, is a series of inquiries into what people have tried, what they've found so far that works and doesn't work, and where they would like to explore next... beyond that, I'm happy to share stories, always with the caveat that it is all "MY" story, and may have nothing at all to do with anyone else's experience or reality.

He and I say that what we do is Master/slave. That is the description of our relational power dynamic that seems to fit. It is not a thing that we set out to create or achieve. It is something that evolved for us as we spent time together. We came, over time, to accept that description of what was the reality between the two of us. Our M/s dynamic is, generally, very informal, without many specific protocols, although there are situations where we are much more formal with one another. I refer to Him in writing as "Master" mostly because it is simple. At home, I use His name, or I call Him "Sir," or "Dear" or "Honey." We seldom use the term "Owner," although He will express that T and I are "His" or "His property." Clearly, there is an understanding of ownership within our dynamic.

I'm not sure exactly what the delineation between "Owner" and "Master" is. If I check the definitions, I find that an owner has the right of possession or title, whereas the word master seems to imply a level of expertise or skill or finesse -- as in master swordsman, headmaster, masterpiece... When I consider the two in that context, it makes the two words fit our dynamic like layers. He "owns" me in the sense that He has the right of possession over me, and He is my Master because He has the skills and knowledge that is required to manage the complex and challenging process of shaping, managing, and maintaining me (optimally) in His service.

For us, it began and remains about the power exchange -- the energy that flows between and through us when we consciously and deliberately take our individual and collective power and choose how to use it for our mutual pleasure and benefit. We channel that and balance it and work with it together. It takes awareness and understanding and deliberate choice. It is about creating intentional inequities that spark the flow of energy and drive our desires forward. It is powered by our continual care for one another and scaffolded by our trust in ourselves and in each other.

swan

This is about as crazy as it gets...

Lately, I have been obsessed with the stocks. They sit in our bedroom. I haven't been in the stocks since before the hysterectomy -- well over a year and a half. He sometimes threatens to put me in them, if I am fussy in a session, but in practice, the stocks have become a blanket rack. I don't know how I'd respond to being "in" the stocks at this point. My memory of being in them is that it was always mentally and emotionally difficult to just get there. But still, they are filling my imagination, lately -- and in the oddest way. I am not obsessing about being "in" the stocks. I really don't want to be "in" the stocks. And yet I seem to be just fascinated with them right now.

I am continually drawn to the notion of wanting to sleep in the base of the stocks. It is crazy really. I'm not even sure I could get my long, gangly frame curled into that space, and yet there is something that pulls at me. I wake up in the middle of the night and I swear I can "hear" them calling to me. I want to take a blanket and a pillow and just find a way to get myself into that space. There is something that feels to me as if sleeping there would be safe and enclosed and protected and connected somehow.

I don't entirely understand it. I wonder if it is like what I used to do in the days when I faced daily paddlings (when the requirement was that I would go to Him each day, with the paddle, and ask for Him to paddle me). I struggled terribly through that time period. The daily sessions of 100 paddle strokes became increasingly difficult to endure and to ask for as the weeks went on -- and I came to a point, eventually, where I would actually sleep with the paddle. It wasn't anything He suggested or required, I simply began at some point taking the paddle to bed with me, as if somehow holding it through the night would make it easier to cope with the next day.

I haven't gone to sleep in the bottom of the stocks. If He woke up and found me missing from His bed, He'd have an absolute fit, and there'd be no end of grief. I don't want those stocks. I don't want the switching He has mentioned a couple of times this summer. I don't want the daily "whip practice" that He promised late in the spring just before school ended. There is an entirely logical part of my brain that tells me that I will HATE those things if they actually happen, and that, if I say, "yes that is what I want," I will simply disappoint in the event.

I suspect that a good part of what is going on here is that I may need things that I don't really want. This is hard. I'm not a starry-eyed newbie, eager to try all sorts of interesting "fantasies." I've tried all the things I used to fantasize about. I know what happens when the paddles and whips start to swing -- it hurts like hell. I know that I'll cry and scream and beg and do anything within my power to make it stop. I know that, at the point that I ask for something, my ability to negotiate the levels of it all simply vanishes. The minute that I give voice to it, it becomes entirely His domain, and His domain is scary. It doesn't change the needing. Clearly, my mind will go where my courage will not. Until it drives me completely nuts.

swan

Feral Swan

I am pretty sure that I am not the only one who is "like this," although I might be the most difficult and/or challenging of all the women I am familiar with. I can see it as I watch Him ponder the path to take with me. I know that He questions exactly how far to push things; exactly what would be "good," and what would begin to seem "abusive," or "harmful." I can, in my reasonable and sensible moments, empathize with the challenge and complexity of attempting to manage and ride herd on a volatile and emotionally labile creature such as I have become in the last couple of years. I honestly don't know how the Man does it, and there is a part of me that fully understands why so many so-called "Dominants" stick to the relatively hormonally-stable twenty-somethings when they go shopping for potential submissive candidates of the female persuasion.

The dilemma is this: I am still driven, at some essential place by the part of me that remains masochistic and that needs to know I belong to Him. That is the elemental core of my selfhood. It was who and what I was when He and I first connected, and it remains. I am mature enough and self-disciplined enough to not require continual reinforcement, or any sort of formalized ritual, or signal from Him to maintain that awareness within my thinking. It simply is the reality of who I am and who we are together. With that said, however, if it is left unexercised in any concrete way for a significant period of time, I can begin to feel tense, wobbly, stressed, attenuated. It is as if there is a depletion of my spirit that cannot be answered if those bits of me are not acknowledged and "touched" somehow on a fairly regular basis. On the other hand, as I have lost a good part of the more overtly "pleasure" parts of my sexual responsiveness (and entered a state that is sort of like permanent PMS), I have struggled much more to accommodate the masochistic side. The "bargain" is not as balanced, and I can get to feeling that it is pretty unfair that there should be so much of it on the pain side and so little on the pleasure side. I go to the well pretty frequently and come up "dry." That can get frustrating after awhile. I've sort of quit grieving, and mostly, I don't think about what I don't have too much. Still, there are times when I get moody and fussy, and downright pissed off about it all.

It is, I suspect, a hell of a lot easier (if you are a sadist) to hurt someone who is going to get off on it than it is to hurt someone who is going to wail and mourn and curse the unfairness of the whole business -- especially if you really love and care for that person. When you are dealing with that "mourning" thing for lengthy stretches, it can be pretty daunting; nevermind that the one who is doing the mourning is simultaneously speculating that they might just need you to hurt them in exactly the ways that they are railing against. It must be terribly challenging to charge ahead, as a Dominant, with whippings, and paddlings, and switchings, and all manner of evil whatnot, secure in the judgement that it is good for a partner who dissolves into a puddle of hysterical "goo" at the mere mention of such torments. The whole notion of "consent" becomes strained at that point.

Both He and I know, intellectually, how this works between us. I've described the process and the struggle as clearly as I know how, and He is an accomplished pratctitioner, and a very keen observer of my responses and reactions. Knowing what is probably true and understanding how it probably works is one thing. Actually confronting it and pushing on through all of that, day after day, is an entirely different proposition.

It really is like having a wild, untamed, entirely unpredictable creature in your household. He must feel like every encounter is a complete gamble -- no telling what might happen. Even if He asks me how I am, I often cannot give Him much in the way of concrete information. I may have a sense of feeling somewhat stressed or "wobbly," but I am generally totally unsure as to whether the wobbles will be lessened or increased by us playing. I have become a flighty and unpredictable, wild and feral, skittish creature.

We've made so many adjustments for this aging business -- for the shifts and changes that we are both encountering with our years. Still I want to stay lively and sexy and hopeful and open for Him. I need this interraction. It hasn't gone away, simply become more difficult. I growl more than I used to. Somehow I have to find a way to make that growling be a good thing.

swan

This is What I Do!

Some "person" over at kaya's left this comment, and try as I might, I just cannot shake the place where it chaps my hide... My father, curmudgeonly old so and so that he was, said the same thing all my life. It never stopped me from wanting to teach. As long as I've been teaching, I've heard uninformed and arrogant people who wouldn't survive two hours in a busy classroom (let alone make a success of it for the kids that were given into their care) spout that nonsense. I've had it. I understand that there are lousy teachers out there -- people who should never be allowed near a classroom or a child who is trying to learn. But the same can be said for people in every occupation. There are lousy doctors, lawyers, plumbers, accountants, politicians -- you name it, and you can find someone who sucks at doing it. I believe that this ignorant comment gets made because the perception is that teachers make less than they could "out in the corporate world" applying their knowledge there (if they were any good). You know what? That's true. I worked in corporate America for 17 years before I made the move to teaching. I made a six-figure income, and I gave it up and left it behind so that I COULD do what I'd always dreamed of, and teach. I wanted to not just make money -- I wanted to make a difference. I'll never, ever make the kind of money that I once did, because we don't value teachers the way we do other things. But that's the choice our society makes. Anyway, school starts in again in a few weeks and, I'm OVER it with the sluggo's of the world... but I'm not nearly as eloquent about it as this guy... Check it out. He speaks for so many of us who labor in classrooms to MAKE something really valuable:

YouTube -- What Teacher's Really Make

swan

The Consent Counts Discussion Guide

I don't do this very often, but this came through one of the lists that we subscribe to, and the discussion seems worthwhile, so I'm putting the information here for those who may be interested.

Let's do this... We'll just define ourselves as a "family" or a "community group," and conduct our own discussion. If you want to participate and be included in this dialog (and you don't have some other venue where you might take part in this effort) you can post a comment here. When the discussion seems to have run its course, I'll try and compile it and forward it on.

swan

The Consent Counts Discussion Guide is now available at http://consentcounts.org/resource/html . This project is gathering comments, thoughts, ideas from the community on decriminalizing BDSM and sexual freedom issues and more information is available about the project at www.consentcounts.org. The goal of this project is to produce a compiled report that will be presented at LLC in April 2008 in San Francisco which will provide a baseline perspective to the national organizations that are working on these issues. Your voice and views are important. We need all titleholders, community leaders, event producers, and leather families to be part of this discussion. The guide provides a step by step workshop approach on the issues. After having the discussion, you summarize your answers and send them in. Deadline for inputs is Dec 15, 2007. Also forward this to any other e-lists you may be on. For more information, contact pat@consentcounts. org.

Here are the questions that need your input (see the guide for background and additional information) :

Legal/Current Status
1. What are the local laws used against BDSM activity in your community
2. Are there any local cases where the above laws or fear of the leather community has limited access or ability to gather ?
3. What has been the community response (actual or theoretical) to an arrest, raid? Do you have community resources or groups that respond to these situations? Community Perception?
4. What do you think the larger community (GLBT, vanilla) perception is of the leather community?
5. What leather activities make the larger community nervous or that the larger community doesn't want to see us doing?
6. Should the leather community become mainline/acceptable or stay secretive/outlaw with the larger community?

Consent
7. What do you define as consent in leather/kink/ fetish/BDSM community?
8. What are the limits of consent – what can we agree to do?
9. What are the limits on who can give consent – age, mental ability, health?
10.What is the difference between consensual BDSM and domestic violence or abuse?

Retreat

It is getting harder and harder for me to stay here and write day after day.

I don't feel good about being in this place. I have fought the demons of doubt for a very long time, and I just cannot keep looking around and reading and knowing how little I have to say or share that matters or means anything. I am tired of sifting through the dust trying to find something -- anything to write.

I battle with my very difficult sort of masochism. I'm just no way as easy with this as so many people are, and I can't pretend otherwise. The immediacy of an impending session sends me as often as not, and however I manage to get through that, the simple fact of that is something that I have to know and admit and deal with. I cannot brag or boast or be proud of how much I can handle, because I don't handle any of it very well. I cry and hyperventilate and struggle just to try and stay where I'm supposed to -- IF I manage to do that much.

And I still end up needing it anyway. I'm a mess.

I get lonely. I get to feeling tired and overwhelmed and small. Yesterday, I spent most of the day in a "bent" place in the face of a gathering of "family." I don't even know why it made me so unhappy. Except that was the reality. I made it through the preparations for it all, and I got through the evening and even enjoyed it once it was on, but I felt badly about my feelings going into it. I was just angry and resentful and unhappy.

Part of me wants to just stop writing. Part of me wants to pull away and not look at any of this anymore. We're slated for a public event in September. I'm sort of looking forward to it, but also completely sure that I cannot possibly cope with public play at this point.

I just don't feel good about me.

I cruise around the circle. I surf the net. I don't find anything that speaks to me. I don't find anything that helps me. I don't think there is anyone for me to talk to.

It is almost time for school to start again. In a very few weeks the routine will start up again. The summer will be over. Maybe that will be good. Something to focus on. I just don't know.

swan

Passages

I don't think I've ever talked about, or really, ever thought about the stages that I pass through in the process of a serious session.

I've engaged in dialog with people, over the years, about the phenomenon of "subspace." I know I've experienced what, for me, feels like "that place" upon occasion. It is an interesting sensation, or set of sensations. I don't reach it often; don't really strive for it, or even think about it much. I don't think either one of us considers it some kind of achievement. It happens when it happens. It doesn't particularly add anything to our experience, and, in fact, for Him, it may very well detract because I don't think He gets much "juice" out of beating me once I've gone to LaLa land.

But. That isn't really what I'm thinking about here. I'm really more aware, in the aftermath of yesterday, of the passages that I make -- transitions really, from level to level during our SM play. I've never consciously considered it before, and I've never seen anyone discuss it. Maybe nobody else progresses through distinct levels of processing. Maybe this is something that is just a quirk in the way I do this. For me, when I think about it, though, it is pretty consistent. So, for what it is worth, I'm going to see if I can define the pattern.

If things begin, as this last encounter did, with some input or initiatory move from me, then there is a beginning level that is a "ramping up" stage. In this phase, I am likely to fantasize about the possibilities, and imagine what might ensue and how I'll experience the event. That imagining and fantasizing, depending on how long it goes on, builds a level of tension, anticipation, and excitement for me. This is a stage that I often miss out on because I very seldom initiate our play. There are a couple of reasons for that. One of the reasons for that is that I know how intensely He plays, and so I am reluctant to "suggest" some things because I know that I cannot hope to keep up with Him. Too, I am unwilling to place Him in the role of "service Top." I simply hate the thought that my asking might place Him in the position of catering to my demands.

Once, things begin, we often enter into a period of time that is preparatory. For me, this part of the encounter feels breathless, and anticipatory, and usually very connective. I usually don't know what to expect from Him before things actually begin, and I am often in a very quiet mood, wanting to simply be close to Him so that I can follow His lead. I also tend to experience a wish to extend this phase -- to hold on to the security of being in His care. It is a bit like standing at the edge of the precipice, knowing that there is the inevitable jump just ahead.

Immeditately, as the actual physical part of the session begins, I hit a stage that feels intensely difficult (assuming we aren't doing some nice, soft, easy build up -- very uncommon for us). Most often for me, this is the stage where I have to cope with reactions including fear, panic, resistance, denial, and often an intense desire to back out or escape from the situation/agreement. It isn't uncommon for me to say things like, "Oh NO!" "I can't do this!" "Let me go!" I might ask, "Why are You doing this to me?" I've been known to beg Him to stop. I've tried to run. I am entirely sincere in my surprise and desire to make it stop at the beginning. It really doesn't matter how intensely I wanted it, or how dark my fantasy might have been; I am almost never prepared for the reality. What gets me through it is either serious restraint, or intensely applied Dominance that breaks through my control drives and makes it clear that I have no "choices" in the situation. However it goes, the outset of an intense session is seldom peaceful or smooth.

I will generally move fairly quickly from the fear and panic stage into an angry place. Once I am convinced that He won't listen to my pleas and won't succumb to my controlling manipulations, I'll get furious. This is the phase where I'll become utterly convinced that He is an evil bastard, an absolute asshole. This is the stage of the process where I begin to mutter to myself that, "as soon as I get free, I'm going to kill Him." And I absolutely mean it. The blood pounds and roars in my head. I begin to feel incredibly powerful and I'll start to growl and roar with every stroke. If I'm not restrained, I'll often pound my fists on whatever is handy (although I've never gotten crazy enough to actually go after Him). Sometimes I stay angry for a really long time. Other times, I pass through the anger very quickly.

And then the storm passes and I come into a place that feels soft. This is not subspace. I can still find that I have to work very hard to cope with the sensations, but I am no longer battling with Him or with myself. I find myself remembering that I love Him. I tend to need to hear His voice; to touch Him if I can. Once I soften, I feel things. If there have been emotional issues between us, or things that I've been worrying about, they'll come bubbling up and out of me. I'll talk to Him in this stage. I'll croon and cry and babble. This phase feels differently physically, too. My muscles let go. I stop fighting every blow. It becomes possible to take in the sensations more deeply. I am less shocked by the impacts. For me, this passage feels like coming home to the place where I live most truly. This is the place where I feel authentic and peaceful. It feels like I have made a successful journey.

There is almost always some sort of ending phase that is like coming up out of deep water. It is a resurfacing. For me, because our sessions end in a very specific and formalized pattern, I am "called back" to the here and now" with words and actions that connote the ending even if I am not entirely sensible. Those patterns help to ground me in the present, wherever I might be floating.

The complete cycle of passages is a transit that takes me into my deepest core and brings me back more whole and usually more settled and more sure. I find that if I go for very many weeks or months without making that journey, I start to wobble. I need to go into the fire and come back out again. I am lucky that I have a brave and loving partner who will walk that path with me, difficult as it may be, and stand as my guide and guardian at the gateways from passage to passage.

swan

Request Answered

I really ought to know better by now, than to ever assume that a sadist is too ill or too tired or too weak to rise to the occasion when I ASK to be beaten...

This falls into the "be careful (or at least really sure) of what you ask for" category.

And yes, I did all of the panicky, freaked out, angry, fussy "stuff" that is preliminary for me ahead of getting through an intense session like this. He simply did not let me get away, held me to the requirements that are in place between us always, and proceeded exactly as He would...

So.

Here I am.

Immediately after the fact. Developing. I went down and into the deepest of sleeps afterward. Just drifted off and away. Completely drained, spent, gone.

Thank you, Sir.

swan