Favorite Posts -- The Night of the Buckwheat Hulls in the Fur

One older post (and a follow up to it just a few days later) that draws regular and steady traffic is a funny little piece about a late night encounter between the two of us.  On the face of it, the story of The Buckwheat Hulls in the Fur, is just a silly story of the sort of household mishap that might occur anywhere inside of any relationship.  Except that, for us, even the simplest and smallest events can hold the holographic whole of the entire dynamic.

As context, it helps to know that what is described in this story all happened just a few days after my hysterectomy.  I was only just barely out of surgery and still under some pretty significant restrictions to my activities.  Very late at night, a travel pillow that Master was accustomed to use to sleep with split open, spilling the its buckwheat hull stuffing all over the bed.  The action of static electricity caused the light weight husks to adhere to every surface -- including the furry, naked body of Himself.  He was immobilized by the mess, and I needed to figure out a way to get it all cleaned up without spreading the chaos any further.  His caring and solicitous concern for my well-being led us into an exchange that embodied the totality of our power exchange dynamic as it existed at the time -- and watching the dance we did with that under the circumstances gave the whole business the tinge of high humor. 


Days later, in an exchange with SpankBoss about the nature of the power exchange demonstrated in that incident, I wrote:

... just as we were finally settling down to sleep ... He gave the little pillow a final tug and a twist ... The ... thing burst! ... He suggested the vacuum cleaner ... When I arrived back in the bedroom with the vacuum, He looked at me ... and demanded, "are you allowed to carry that?" I ... tried to avoid the obvious, "DUH, Sir?" Instead, I assured Him that I had only dragged it on its wheels and not lifted or carried it...

...That is not "just a bit" of power exchange. It is all of the power exchange encapsulated in a single flash ... that blink, that indrawn breath, that bend of the head that signifies the giving that is more, perhaps, than the simple ability to withstand or enjoy pain -- when the power to hold to self is passed into the keeping of the other...

Now, years later, a more experienced and perhaps occasionally wiser slave has learned that trick of bending gently to the will of the One I have called "Master" for a good long while.  I am STILL not perfect at it, but I can see the beginnings of the path in the actions of that long ago me.  I am awfully proud of her.  She was a learner, but she was earnest and honest and open and intent.  She laid the groundwork for all that has come since.  It was a pioneering moment that I am so glad to have captured.

swan