“What do you want out of it?”
Heather and I were discussing the possibility of my first scene when I visit her next month when the question popped up. I couldn’t give her an answer, and the truth was that I really didn’t know. The query forced me to take a hard look at myself which can sometimes be as excruciating as a beatdown from a gang of hoodlums. Heather challenged me to don my waders and venture carefully into the treacherous swamp of my feelings which she knows is never an easy task for me.
What do I want? Do I want to see how I fare in the hands of a sadistic Top wielding a riding crop? Or perhaps the bite of leather as the flogger is thrown against my bare flesh? Of course that’s what I want, but that’s a surface desire. It’s superficial, and I knew there must be a deeper need. I just had to uncover it.
I thought about her question for days, not entirely sure where to look for the answer so I started with the obvious. I picked apart the different components of my personality, individually examining what each one needed. It was something I had already devoted a lot of time to as I became comfortable with my newfound identity that labeled me as a switch. This time I examined my dissected innards from a different angle, trying to determine what I was missing. I recognized that the submissive in me had the driving need to please, freely giving up control while my dominant side lay in wait, craving the rush from the return of that power. It was a delicate balance that required a steady flow of trust to remain healthy. And trust is something that doesn’t come easily to me.
Then I remembered a conversation I recently had with Master Cecil about trust. He said that he could determine the amount of trust by a hug. If a person relaxes into him completely, it’s unquestionable. Before leaving The Woodshed that night I gave him a hug, and I had to ask myself if he could feel my trust. Did I melt into him as Heather had the night of their amazing scene? I didn’t know. I’m guessing I tried but was unable to let go of the control I needed to feel safe. Don’t misunderstand, I trust Master Cecil. I just have a difficult time giving up complete control. Then it struck me. Surrendering absolute control outside of a sexual dynamic is what I long for. I desperately need to let the dominant facet of me slumber and not wonder when she’ll wake up rejuvenated, rallying for control.
I was pleased that I’d climbed inside of myself, digging through memories and feelings that are unpleasant and erratic without ending up on the floor curled into a fetal position. I know my inability to let go completely is a result of the crusty scab that formed over an old relationship that left me emotionally disfigured. When my high school boyfriend greedily took the power I gave him over me, he used it to cause me pain that I’ve never fully recovered from. I realize it’s time to let those wounds heal and take back all of the power I gave him. But in order to do so, I need to give every ounce of that power to someone else. Someone who will respect me and honor the gift of my submission. Someone who won’t abuse it and will return the power to me.
In light of my revelation, I had to ask myself another question. How will I react when I give up all control for the first time in ages? Will I be afraid? Will there be an outpouring of emotion as harbored anger is conjured up and released? Or will I end up a sobbing mess? Honestly, that is something that can’t be foretold. And because of that uncertainty, I refuse to scene with anyone, hard or soft, without the security of Heather close by. She is my safe haven. She knows my demons by name, and she knows how to exorcise them.
I don’t know if my first scene will be in North Carolina, or if it will happen close to home. The one thing I am certain of is that when it does happen, I’ll know exactly what I want to take away from it with no room for doubt. It feels good to be able to say that the answer came from within me, from pages of my life that haven’t been read in a long time. And knowing that I pieced it together on my own is incredibly satisfying. It’s reassurance that I’m growing as a person. It’s reassurance that I’m human.
