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Sometimes, the approach makes all the difference.

October 12th, 2010

Awhile back… A few years, at least.  M and I were on completely different pages when it came to pain play.

Not in the “one of us wanted it, one of us didn’t” sense.  Or even that we were interested in different levels of extremes.

Somewhere along the line, I got my wires crossed.  No matter what was going on, every time M wanted to play with me, I thought I was being punished.  I used to blame Him.  His approach was off, or He’d punished me with pain so often that I’d come to believe that was its only purpose.

I don’t think there was blame to lay.  I think at the time the pain play was hurting my feelings.  Especially when emotional sadism was involved.  This is purely speculation, though.  I never really took the time to analyze it. 

Over the past… Year, or so? I’d have to search the blog to find the exact time frame.  I’ve been opening up to M sexually in a way I’ve never opened up to anyone.  Not even Him, until recently.  I mean, yeah, I was more open with Him than anyone else already, but the things I’ve been doing with Him and/or to myself are things I never talked about.  Only did in privacy with previous lovers.  Pretended not to enjoy.

I’m sure I’ll have a mini confidence crisis over it in the not too distant future.  Which will knock us two steps back, and make getting back to where we were that much more frustrating.

But for today…

Today, I’m thinking about the other day, when M woke me up by making me put on my collar and crawl out to the living room.  And as I knelt in front of Him, He explained to me that He was pretty proud of my behavior, and then He slapped me across the face as my reward.

When He was finished, I thought about the day that I finally told Him the reason I hadn’t been able to get into pain play was because it always felt like punishment to me.  Because I always felt like He was doing it because He was mad at me.  And I found myself smiling as I thought about Him repeating over and over that the slapping was a reward.

The most basic of lessons.  One I guess I knew but never actually grasped.  And I can’t remember if He taught it the same way, way back when.  But today, it feels new.  Different.  And yet, comfortable.

I’m cautiously optimistic.

I’d like to say I’m completely trusting.  But honestly, it doesn’t just depend on M.  Regardless of the fact that He is in control.

I mean, it’s silly for me to just… get comfortable doing nothing more than lounging around the house, hardly ever being hit, rarely hearing a “harsh” word, like just because He’s been nice for a week, or a month, He’ll always be nice.  To act surprised, and get my feelings hurt when He decides to be mean again.  As if I didn’t enter into this part of our relationship fully hoping M would prove to be someone who could make me feel dirty, and whorish, and owned while loving me just as fiercely as I love Him.

And He does.  And I love it.

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