Asking or Not Asking

Here's another thought stream gleaned from the archives of these blogs over the last five years...

...I am ... longing for gentle touches, yearning for the sorts of foreplay that might inflame me ahead of the pain ...I did beg Him to hold onto me...I ...went to Him…and asked, "do you think you might have time to spank me sometime this afternoon?"...Exactly what I needed...I need to be taken through that place...I only clung to Him in straining hunger...Leather is my delight...I thought that I wanted to try the whip again…Maybe if I could get a bedtime spanking sometimes...I started begging Him to wait...f a REAL session that steps through levels and stages to some culminating point seems terribly exciting...flogging is like a present...I've found myself wanting it more, needing it more, asking for more...If I promise to be good, would You spank me, please?...

It intrigues me to see the longings and desires laid out in a string like this.  One of the things that I learned very early in all of this was that it was a better thing to ask for spanking interactions than to manipulate or brat in order to create that event -- simpler, more honest, and healthier for us both.  Once I was able to be clear about the need I have for spanking, it really wasn't that challenging for me to find the place that was comfortable about asking...

But.  Then.  I ran into a whole host of mental hurdles grounded not in what I want and need, but in the essential nature of our power exchange dynamic.  Lately, I've stopped asking, because asking doesn't get me what I think I want.  Asking for what I can envision in my mind; for what I might fantasize about doesn't result in the fulfillment of any of that.  Whatever I might ask for becomes fodder for Him, and what He makes of my fantasies isn't even close. 

That's frustrating, but it also teaches a very simple lesson -- that within the context of this power-based relationship, there is no "I want."  He is not a service top, and He won't be pushed into that mode by my imaginings.  If I were true to my path, that would be just expected, and it wouldn't cause me any sort of distress.  If...

As it turns out, I am finding I have to work at accepting all of that.  It isn't pretty or anything that remotely resembles "graceful."  It makes me feel sad and mournful for the things that I imagine might have been... if things were otherwise.  Then, I try to imagine what I'd lose if that "otherwise" were to occur, and the thought just destroys me.  And so, I am caught swinging crazily back and forth between loving what I have and mourning what I cannot have.  He watches all of that and judges it to be just craziness -- and so we go...  He's both dissatisfied and baffled by my responses.  I am frustrated and angry more than I ought to be.  There just doesn't seem to be any way out of the mess.  It really amazes me that the two of us, bright and aware, and so much in love, can so miss the mark when it comes to communicating about such an elemental part of our lives.

swan