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Fear, Gangbusters and Vagueness FTW!

December 22nd, 2009
More often than not, this is what we look like, these days. Doesn't that rock?

More often than not, this is what we look like, these days. Doesn't that rock?

More and more, I come here, and I stare at the blank page, and I wonder what the hell I’m doing.  I’ve got plenty of personal BDSM stuff to write about, and yet I keep it to the birds and Christmas and controversial topics like feminism and date rape.  Or the new description for Insatiable Desire.  Or sex toys.

I’m not really sure why I’m playing it so close to the vest.  Like what’s going on here is mine to keep and He won’t, at any given moment, just blab about it to someone.  Either here or on Twitter or… somewhere.

We’ve been talking.  A lot.  About so much.  And I can’t help but laugh when He has His “Aha!” moments, and they’re things I’ve been saying right along.  Just like He can’t help but bust on me when I have mine.  And we’re getting along like gangbusters.  Which is way cooler than I could ever say.  Especially considering the monthly monster reared her ugly head today.

You did, too, want to know that.  Hush.

He’s testing the waters.  Giving a push here.  A nudge there.  An all out shove over there.  And He’s watching me like a bug under a microscope to see which direction I’m going to turn.

He.  Master.  The man who owns me.

Master keeps planting little nuggets of fear.  Vaguely describing what He wants from me.  Skipping over the darkest parts.  The stuff that fear’s made of.  And He keeps poking.  Prodding.  Stabbing at open wounds.  Clawing at old scars.  Ripping barely mended flesh.  In my mind.  For that’s the part of me He’s after.  My body is just along for the ride.

I keep having to remind myself that it was only a week or so ago when He asked me if I was ready to go deeper.  And I said yes.  It was only a couple days ago when He asked me if I was ready to free fall.  And I shivered as I answered yes.

Deeper than what?

Ages ago… Long before this blog was ever even slightly popular, and when my only readers were a couple of my friends from IRC, I was in a place where not much existed.  A place I didn’t talk about much because it wasn’t accepted in the circles we ran.  There was Master and sex and pain and humiliation and Master.  And He would dunk my head under, let me go and I’d come up sputtering.  Only to be dunked again. 

At some point, the spell was broken.  I got scared and Master got scared and any ground we’d gained was lost.

Master has been steadily pushing me back to that place.  Only this time, I don’t get to adjust.  He’s putting on the pressure and He’s going to push until… Well, until He wants to let up, I guess.

We had a long discussion, yesterday, about His fears.  About how He still sometimes allows His fear of losing me to hold Him back.  And about how He’s sometimes afraid that He can’t have both the gutter slut slave and the wife that He wants.  That if He pushes for the former, the latter will disappear completely.

The other day, I had just gotten out of the shower, and He came at me with Glow.  Aside from the fact that my head was just not in it, the tiny bit of moisture left on my skin made that simple suede flogger feel like steaming hot metal.  And I reared up like a pissed off bull and turned to give Him The Look of Death™.  Master sort of laughed at me and told me to get back to what I was doing and not jerk away.

And then the son of a bitch hit me again.  And if I’d given Him The Look of Death™ before, I gave Him The Look of Go Directly to Hell! Do Not Pass Saint Peter! Do Not Collect Your Angel Wings!™ this time.  And I think a few expletives were launched from my foul mouth to His sacred heart.

I do not kid about being a cunt.  It comes natural.  I can’t help it.  Or can I?

And then we both hunkered down for battle.  Him at His computer and me at my sink.  It didn’t last long, and I was eventually punished for my shitty attitude and refusal to obey an order.  Twice.

The punishment was probably a little light for the crime, but He always does that.  At each new door, He pulls me just barely over the threshold.  And He lets me stand there for a minute.  And then He yanks me inside, locks the door behind me and starts dragging me to the next.

For pretty much forever, there’s been a touch of Daddy/little girl to our relationship.  But while I hate that I’m all growed up, being treated like a child has always been enough to send me into a wild fury.  And boy, does he know how to treat someone like a child.

My last protest (“What am I? Five? You really don’t have to treat me like a child.”) was met with, “If that’s what I want, then that’s what I’ll do.” and a very brief explanation of what my training is going to be like from here on out.

I was going to say, “Before the decisions He made yesterday.” but I suppose the decisions He made yesterday don’t change anything.

One thing we agree on, though, is that I shouldn’t self-censor to protect His feelings or His sense of control.  And that if He is going to regain His confidence in His place in my life completely, He is going to have to push through both His fears, and my reactions.  And I certainly don’t make it easy.  Though I have been making a conscious effort of late.

We haven’t quite worked out what happens if I’m too pigheaded.  Well… I mean… We have.  I don’t get to walk away from this unscathed.  If I’m too pigheaded to learn through careful training, I’ll learn through abuse.

Progress.  I guess that’s what I’m holding close to the vest.  Because I’m petrified that it’s this fragile little thing that will shatter the second I expose it.  And I like this tenuous grip I’ve got on reality.  A lot, actually.

He just told me my nonstop good mood is making Him nervous.  Apparently, my effort is showing.  That’s awesome.

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  1. December 22nd, 2009 at 20:34 | #1

    Rayne,

    I think it’s great that things are being put back together. I also understand being fearful of cursing the success you’ve had so far. I’m sure, however, that any “shattering” will simply be put back together by both of you, working together, as Master and slave, husband and wife, just as you are doing now with the initial breakdown of dynamic you experienced those years ago.

    Dave

  2. December 22nd, 2009 at 21:31 | #2

    jor can be just as bad. He hasn’t gotten quite as good as you are about accepting punishment yet, though. It sounds like you are progressing, and that’s awesome. 🙂

  3. December 22nd, 2009 at 21:54 | #3

    @Kayla Lol. I’m not good about accepting punishment. I just leave out the hour(s) I try to make M believe He’s at fault.

    @dweaver999 We’re turning out to be a pretty good team, huh? It’s kind of cool to watch from my position.

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