Learning

We are finding our way. Slowly. Together.

One of the hurdles for me and for us, in the last couple of years, has been figuring out how I could ask for what I wanted and needed sexually, and in terms of our SM play -- without feeling like I was "topping from the bottom," or putting Him in the position of "Service Top." As my sensitivities, responses, needs, and capacities changed, I really needed to be able to show Him what was good / not good for me, and tell Him what I wanted and needed. Unfortunately, there were impossible "standards" and expectations that I had built up in my head and in my imaginings that left me feeling like doing that would betray everything I'd said I was when I committed to be His slave. It was a ridiculous dilemma -- I couldn't change the "rules," and I couldn't live up to them either.

AND all of that was my doing. I was the one that was setting all of that up in my own mind. He was, I think, desperate to know what to do to re-establish some footing for the two of us that would make it possible for us to reconnect and move forward. The information that I couldn't and wouldn't share kept us stuck for an awfully long time.

I've begun to find my voice, and to trust that speaking to Him of my needs and wants can work to our mutual benefit -- that giving voice to my needs and longings is not necessarily a "wresting of control" away from Him, but is really giving Him the information that He needs to steer us in the direction that works for us both. I've remembered (how could I have ever forgotten) that just because I mention a thing that I might want or like doesn't obligate Him to do it for me -- that the choosing remains entirely His. The result -- we are rediscovering that our play and our power exchange is not merely about M/s, about obedience, about SM... it is also about joy and delight and eroticism and connection and wonder and contentment.

That is how it happened that last weekend I spent Saturday night sleeping in wrist cuffs. Not intensely restrained, but only gently and subtly so. I'd murmured, quietly, as we were falling asleep, that if we were going to spank in the morning I would like it if I could be restrained -- please, Sir? He pulled me close and assured me that, of course, that would be fine. Then He asked me if I needed to have the restraints to sleep in. I hadn't even thought about that -- we never do that. My mind whirled in a dozen different directions at once, and all I could do was burrow deeper into the warmth and security of His chest. He heard and understood the catch in my breathing, and chose to put the cuffs on me. With complete seriousness, He explained to me what He expected --

"I'm putting these on you and I don't want you to take them off, but you understand that IF there were an emergency there is absolutely nothing that would keep you from being able to get out of these cuffs."

"Yes, Sir," I replied. We have to be so careful, and so aware of our own mortality these days.

By the time the morning arrived, I was feeling ready to bring up another request. One of the things that I'd been struggling with was the pervasive feeling that our SM play was all pain and no pleasure. I'd come to feel that most of the time it was a matter of "living through it," hoping to get out the other side well enough that He wouldn't be "disappointed" in me. Most of the time, I end up feeling that sessions begin fast and move along at a speed that leaves me behind right from the start. Metaphorically, the train pulls out and leaves me on the platform. I don't ever "get on the train," and I never, ever arrive at the "destination."

I've kept telling myself that a "good" slave wouldn't care about any of that -- a "good" slave would be happy that the Master was getting something out of it all. It has seemed clear that He was getting plenty out of things the way they were, and I was definitely not getting "happy" as things went along, so by definition, I was a CRAPPY slave.

Still, I was ready to risk asking for something different last weekend -- just one shot at something that might change things enough to let me "get on the train."

Some of you might remember my "rock collection." I've got a small but well loved collection of phallic rocks. I am absolutely sure I am not the first woman to own these "fellows." I cannot imagine that there has ever been a red-blooded female that would have stumbled upon these lovelies that didn't pick them up and cherish them for exactly the same reason that I did and do...

So, last Sunday, I asked if, before things got going, it would be OK if I put one of the rocks in my pussy. I told Him that I thought it might help me feel like the whole thing was "sexier" and give me a way to work with the sensations in a different place. For just a second, I think He was surprised, and a little taken aback. I was afraid He'd be grossed out or something, but He was glad to let me try it, and so soon I was happily cradling a phallic stone deep inside me, and presented for His pleasure.

He just couldn't resist the urge to play with the darned thing, and I was soon panting and gasping. By the time the spanking began, I was more than ready to get on the train. He went after me with enthusiasm -- strap and paddle and cane, and I was right there. Things that would have left me in tears simply took me higher and higher, and when it was done, I was entirely exhausted and sated and fully sure that I was indeed -- His.

swan