All in all, I said that I’m doing pretty well. That was my reply when I was asked, and it was mostly true. I broke up with my boyfriend recently, parting ways from the handsome and generous B. I was at a point in the creation of my new life where everything hung in the balance. I was on the cusp of building the writing business that I had been dreaming about for years, but it required so much of my energy and focus that I made a shit girlfriend. My daughter, my business and my writing had become my mantra, and unfortunately everything else shifted to the back burner. It wasn’t fair to hold on to B when I wasn’t giving all of myself, when I wasn’t trying to bring us closer together. We said goodbye, and my heart still ached from the loss of him.
I placed something else in the background as well. My submission. Well, “placed” was too kind a word. Shoved, locked away, placed in a cellar and barred the door. She went quietly, nodding in understanding and telling me it was ok. That we would be ok. She’d just go away for awhile, and when I was ready, when I had time, she’d come out again into the light. The truth was, even though I couldn’t say it out loud, was that it was painful having her with me. My submission was a reminder of the Master I had left. A pain that was so deep that I feared the wound would never heal. So I packed my submission away, and she let me, because she was a very good girl. Always.
I thought I was in control. I had an amazing scene at The Woodshed with Master Cecil, and I healed in a way that was as unexpected as it was incredible. I returned home from Orlando with a new hope. My submission had come out to play, she had frolicked and howled in pain and orgasm and was left glowing for days. We were both satiated, and I thought that perhaps well-timed trips to Orlando might suffice. So I locked my submission back in the cellar with the same promises as before, but this time I wasn’t afraid. I figured that she and I could make peace with this arrangement, because she was a very good girl. She pleases and obeys and strives to do her very best for everyone involved.
Then I read this http://www.mollena.com/2012/09/447-am/ Mollena was a hundred times more eloquent than me, and when she wrote about being a slave with no owner, her posts echoed within me like they lived there. The moment I absorbed her words, the cellar door sprung free and suddenly submission was there. Everywhere. She was a leviathan around me. She was me to my core, and she didn’t push or yell or shout that I pay attention to her. She waited like the good girl she was, knowing that when it was her turn, I would be whole in a crucial way that was as essential to me as breathing.
As fate would have it, a Dom that I met in Orlando was nearby on business. We’ve exchanged emails and texts since meeting at The Woodshed, trying to get a feel for each other’s style of play. He had the advantage of seeing me with Master Cecil, but I only caught a glimpse of the beginning of his scene. His sub was tied to a hexagon frame, and her back was a mess of red. And I meant that as a compliment. Just like the more traditional back and forth between a man and woman, the are-we-compatible-in-this-way dance, we do a similar thing with BDSM. Is your domination/pain style with subs similar to what I enjoy submitting to? What I’ve gleaned from our correspondence is that he would push me well beyond what’s familiar. He had already figured out that I fear and love canes, and he had rope experience. We discussed the possibility of playing the next time I’m in Orlando, but now he’s in my neck of the woods. And I’m conflicted about whether to act on it or not.
I know what my submission wants, what I crave. To kneel in response to a command, to stretch past my limits to please an exacting Dominant. To push past the anxiety of the pain that a caning will bring and then the agony of its ministrations. To sink into the power of giving myself in my entirety to another human being, if only for a precious hour. To feel and honor the beauty of my submission in all its glory. This Dom wouldn’t want me in a permanent sense, but I think we would have a lot of fun together with the time we do share. It’s the aftermath that I can’t help worrying about.
Will I be able to return to the life of being uncollared without protest? Will I be able to pull myself back to life as usual without the hand of a Master steadying me? I’ve never done this before. It’s all new unexplored territory. I’d tell you that it sucks ass being unowned, but I would rather struggle with these questions and the sadness of being unused than make the mistake of contracting with a Dom that was wrong for me. So I may play if it works out with both our schedules. He told me that I’d have to supply the toys which will give me some control about how we scene. We’ll have a discussion of boundaries, and I’ll make sure that my support network is in place when I get home. Because I’m very much a good girl.
