Destiny/sublimed

“Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere. They are in each other all along.” -Rumi

This quote showed up in my mailbox today. I just smiled when I read it.

Through a conversation with Master last week, we discovered that I had e-mail messages from the beginning of our relationship that he hadn’t saved himself. So, I’ve been working to identify the messages he is missing from our “archive” of exchanges and getting him a copy of them.

While doing this, I browsed our messages. It was quite a walk down memory lane! In many ways, I see how I’ve grown; in other ways, I see places where I’m still stuck.

Long before Master, I was enamored of the idea of soulmates. I romanticized and fantasized about finding my soulmate. Like the fairy tales, I believed in “happily ever after.”

Sometimes I still daydream about happily ever after, but I no longer believe in the concept of a single soulmate. The word soulmate has a fatalistic connotation that negates the ways we create our own world.

When I read the above quote this morning, I liked it because it describes succinctly the draw we have for another person, but I also interpreted that Rumi wasn’t chalking it all up to fate.

Relationships are hard work, and I think it takes more than fate to bring two people together and then make it work. What I find hardest is peeling the layers of vulnerability. Just when I think I’ve bared my soul, another layer reveals itself.

This kind of vulnerability is not exclusive to M/s (D/s) relationships, but my journey to be His slave is peeling layers that I’m sure I never would have reached in a vanilla relationship.

Even through the roughest of times with Master over the years we’ve known each other, I feel like He’s been in me. That’s why I smiled when I read this quote.

I laid my head on His chest with my arm draped across his waist. We finished the bits and pieces of our conversation, and then we fell silent. I noticed our breathing: His faster than mine. I allowed myself to let go…to just feel being with Him.

When I came out of the meditative state I was in, I noticed how our breathing was now in sync. Without conscious effort, we were breathing as if we were one.

———

I like to take classes on spirituality. They can get quite surreal as we talk about the nature of God, the Universe and how we are individuals and part of Oneness.

In one of the classes I took last week, the teacher suggested that there is no God’s Will. You could have heard a pin drop in that room after he said that. Even for a group of people who like to question and understand for themselves rather than take the word of someone else, we were shocked.

“Thy Will Be Done.” It’s a mainstay of the Lord’s Prayer. But it’s not just Christianity; I can’t think of a major religion that doesn’t have the concept of God’s Will in some form or fashion.

I admit in my quest to be the best person I can be, I’ve often thought, “If I could just give way to God’s Will,” then I would be a better person. In other words, if I could just get out of the way, then God would shine through.

I realize my thinking has been the same with Master. If I could just get my willful self out of the way, then I could surrender to His will and all would be well. Of course, my own will does arise, and I struggle with idea of surrender.

I want to surrender right up to the point where I fear I may disappear. I then buck and wonder what I’m doing. I assert my will until my innate desire to be His draws me back in. The circle continues, and – while I do learn and grow – I have believed both my will and His will can’t exist at the same time. I get dizzy trying to decide which one to follow.

What if it wasn’t either/or…what if both are meant to exist…what if surrender wasn’t about giving something up…what if surrender was about harmonizing?

Like our breath syncing without effort while lying together, my will and His will can harmonize and act as One.

Last week, I was trying to make a decision. I knew Master would want input on the decision. I did ask Him, although I asked via a text message that I sent late in the evening.

I didn’t get a reply. I thought of what would make Master comfortable saying yes. I contemplated whether to wait or go ahead. I weighed the “risks” (how far my decision would have an impact, whether Master would approve, etc.), and I decided to go ahead without hearing from Master.

Well, I caught Master by surprise (and not in a good way). Ultimately, He didn’t ask me to backtrack on the decision but was very clear: He wanted to be aware of such things before they happened.

What was interesting to me was my reaction – or to be more accurate – my two, different reactions.

On one hand, I started to panic. That part of me that always seems worried I’m going to displease Him surfaced. I kicked myself for not following my first instinct to ask and for not having the patience to wait for His answer. I wanted to text Him later that day and ask, “Are you mad at me?” I was in a needy, begging for assurance state.

Deeper inside me, I was having another reaction. I was calm. My calculated reasoning that it was OK to proceed missed the mark. I got clear feedback on what He does want in a case like this, and this part of me noted it for future reference. I smiled at this relatively small example of my will and His Will. I was in a self-assured, content state, and I decided any “mistake” I made in this regard was just part of our path together.

In the grand scheme of things, I’d say this is a relatively minor incident. We have not discussed it since, and in some ways it isn’t even worth noting. What strikes me about this, though, is the two different reactions. It is an example and sheds more awareness on how I sometimes feel like two different people.

I often feel like there are two people inside of me.

One part of me feels like a scared, little girl. She reacts as if everything hurts her or is about to hurt her. She’s defensive. She worries about people being mad or upset with her. She bends to make sure they’re happy. She believes she won’t get what she wants, and she pouts and can get demanding in her own way – even if she thinks she’s not.

The other part of me feels like a maturing young woman. She’s grown but still blossoming. She may be a bit naive, but she adjusts/learns quickly. She’s calm and peaceful. She doesn’t feel the need to convince people of things one way or the other (although she also tends to keep good ideas to herself when people would welcome them). She’s acutely aware of her surroundings and perceptive to non-verbal cues and meanings behind what is said. She has a strong desire to serve but not as a means to prove her worth.

The little girl is louder than the young woman. She has more energy in any given moment, especially when she senses a danger or a threat. Everything is immediate, and problems have to be solved right now.

The young woman is patient. She senses when the time is right. Her energy is sustained and can last a long time because she doesn’t expend it all in spurts. She discerns whether threats and danger are real and – when they are not – is skilled at hearing the fear that others perceive and helps them to calm down. She has an innate ability to be in the flow and realizes problems untie themselves when living and reacting in the present moment.

The little girl may express herself more, but the young woman is always present. The little girl has been around longer. She likes the young woman, and she sees herself as the gatekeeper – keeping the young woman safe from all the dangers she sees.

The young woman sees the little girl’s pain. She helps and guides the girl and looks for ways to comfort her. She knows that taking care of the little girl is important because she’s benefited from her protection. Even though she knows the girl’s protection is no longer needed, she waits in her usual, patient way for the little girl’s voice to quiet down.

Master called me in between meetings this morning. He said he was thinking about me…about punishment, restriction, me flooding the bed and all the ways He could fuck me. It put a silly grin on my face that I’ve had all day long.

I reach behind my neck and rub the clasp of His collar. I am owned…and really nothing could make me happier.

It was the second time this week that I felt His ownership of me tingle through me and fill me up. We had this text message exchange on Monday where I shared that I still had bruises from sex on Friday.

So then, why do I still struggle with the thought of being an object?

Sometimes I think I’m in a dream, exploring territory few dare to go. I’ll be riding along and a part of me jolts and wonders when this dream bubble is going to pop. I find myself wanting to be prepared. I want to make sure I don’t crash into the ground when it does burst.

It’s not like the essence of this struggle is endemic only to M/s. Women have found themselves in this situation a lot (especially my mother’s generation) where making a man their world sets them up for a fall. My own mother left college to marry my father only to find herself nine years later having to get a job that would support herself and two kids and finding limited, low paying choices. I saw her fall, and I’ve seen others fall.

I know I’m not in this type of situation. I have my degree; I run a successful business; I no longer see my submissiveness and my independence as mutually exclusive. Still, I sometimes panic.

From Day One, He’s told me I don’t have to compromise. Both my submissiveness and my independence make up the essence of who I am. He values all of me, and He wouldn’t find me attractive if I didn’t have both.

As I go down this path toward being His slave, I’m discovering more about myself that surprises me. Deeper needs to be used, to be humiliated, to experience extreme pain are surfacing. As I let these desires see the light of day, they sometimes feel overwhelming, and I wonder if the scale is tipping too far toward being just an object.

I’ll fantasize that His power will drown out this voice inside me that panics. I imagine that He has the power to remove the struggle within me instead of realizing I have the power to surrender.

I trust Him more than I ever have right now, and the trust inside myself is growing more and more.

Is it safe to blog when cum drunk?

He undressed in front of me. I sat on the couch fully clothed. I wonder in moments like this if I should eagerly jump off and strip, too…or wait for His direction.

I waited for His direction. He stroked his cock in front of me.

“You’re making my pussy wet,” I state.

“It doesn’t take much to make your pussy wet,” He replies.

True.

He stands in front of me, and I start sucking. I love the feel of His cock on the back of my throat. I relax my jaw as He pumps and fucks my mouth.

He tells me to strip and points me toward the bedroom.

As soon as He enters me, my body tingles. It’s hard to describe the feeling of completeness I have when He’s inside me.

I ask to cum pretty quickly. He says no and, ” what about foreplay?” Yes, I want to linger and not cum so quickly but I also feel the orgasm welling up inside me; I don’t want to mistakenly cum without permission.

He teases and sucks and slaps my nipples and breasts. He bites soft and harder. I’m lingering on that edge, and with each breath to help hold myself back the intensity builds.

“Do you want to cum?”

“yes”

“You may cum.”

The first one starts, and the wonderful, luscious roller coaster begins.

He suck my nipples…”May I cum?” Yes…

He fucks my pussy fast and hard…”May I cum?” Yes…

He rests His cock in my pussy while biting me….”May I cum?” Yes…

At one point instead of asking, I declared, “I’m going to cum.” He didn’t acknowledge me with a yes, so I rephrased, “May I cum?” Yes…

He moves around the bed and puts His balls in my face. I lick and suck while He fingers my clit, then fingers my pussy. I asked to cum, and did so both times including squirting over His hand.

He rolled over, and I licked his nipples. He pulled my hair tightly as He was about to cum himself. “Swallow my cum,” He says and I move my mouth onto His cock just as He cums in mouth.

My body just buzzed afterwards…and I am still glowing hours later.

“You asked every time,” He said afterwards with a pleased tone of satisfaction.

As He walked out the door, I thanked Him for all the orgasms. He suggested that might have to last me as my freedom to masturbate freely (which I’ve had for several weeks now) may be coming to an end.

I caress my body and slowly tease my nipples as I smile both in deep satisfaction and in joyful anticipation of His next command.

Sometimes I fantasize about being a brat. I want to stomp and scream and say, “no!” as loud as I can.

I also fantasize about Master taking me forcefully when I’m acting like this (pulling me by my hair, grabbing my neck or otherwise giving me some physical jolt to complement His powerful presence). He hears my no but does not take it for an answer.

I don’t imagine acting this way all the time. It’s more that I want the experience of it. I want to feel His No overpowering my own.

I often swallow saying the word no…and not just with Master. I have a hard time saying it in all areas of my life. Psychological explanations abound but this reluctance to say no often seems mixed up and at odds with my instinct to serve.

I know Master doesn’t like the word no. It’s not that I’ve never said it to Him, but I’ve come to believe it is an off-limit word, and I just don’t let myself go there.

If I feel a “no” welling up (not necessarily the word…but the general feeling), I first clam up and – if the energy is strong enough – I might start crying (although I try harder than usual to hold it in).

So, instead of saying no, I pull inside and brood while complying on the outside.

When a no just can’t be held in and it bursts out, it always seems to be more powerful than I intended. I find myself apologizing for coming off so strong and crawl back inside.

I fantasize about letting go of worry and to stop trying to manage these feelings from the inside anymore. But as much as I want to have the freedom to let go, I also want to feel His presence over me telling me to “Stop it!” or just plain “No.”

Last week, Master brought over the movie “American Pimp” for us to watch together. It stirred many feelings in me that I had a hard time articulating while Master was here. I wrote to him later saying I was struggling and asking myself, “Do I want to be an object or not?” Master replied and asked if I’d decided one way or another. My reply to him is below.

Did I resolve what seems to have been a lifelong struggle for me?

Why is this a lifelong struggle? This conundrum seems to be born directly out of being molested.

In the mind of an 8 year old girl…I was having fun being led down a path…following him in exploration. The day I stood up and said, “No” to going with him one time, he went away (which I didn’t intend). I came up against something I said no to, and what I thought was special went away.

I honestly don’t know how my uncle viewed me, but over the years the belief ingrained in my head was “I was just an object to him. I thought I was special, but I was just an object.”

My body and my mind are at odds when it comes to this. I’d say my body craves being an object, and my mind has a reflexive safety mechanism warning of danger.

I keep thinking if I could just pick one, then the struggle will end. But it is like a ball of knotted up yarn…every time I pull a string to try to unravel it, the knot just gets tighter.

So parts of the movie took me back to those old feelings, and my “what the hell are you doing?” thoughts got kind of loud inside me.

I’ve lived my life trying to just keep these two parts in some sort of equilibrium. The one way I’ve known how to do that is to not explore any one side too far….to stuff feelings and keep desires safe in my fantasies.

I want nothing more than to be your cherished object…your prized possession. I just want to figure out how to uninstall the old alarm system.

Well, my week has calmed down…a bit, which allows me to move from overwhelm to self-reflection.

In the quiet, I think about how eagerly I take on Master’s assignments. Even if I struggle with an assignment, my eagerness doesn’t necessarily wane.

He gave me the assignment of a daily task earlier this year with no requirement for reporting. I attempted to do on my own, but it quickly waned. When the assignment came up again a couple of months ago, I was the one who requested to do reports because it is easier for me to fulfill assignments when I know I have to write a report. He expressed a bit of reluctance, which I attributed to Him not wanting to micromanage this part of my life. He, however, knew it would help me and so reporting became part of the assignment.

I’m looking back through my e-mail to see when my reports stopped. I knew I’d stopped them, but I couldn’t remember when. The last report was the week I started my new client (which has dominated my time since). Hmmm…

What is surprising to me is how casually and unconsciously I dropped the reporting (and then eventually the daily task) when I approach all other assignments so eagerly.

Master may be sadistic, but he is not mean. If I’d gone to Him and talked about being overwhelmed, I know He would consider my request for some adjustment. He might deny any adjustment to the requirements of the assignment, but He would hear me out.

Instead, my will wandered in and just took over. I judged what were my priorities and what I could handle.

When He told me I would be punished for not fulfilling the assignment, I froze. I felt both the anger of “doesn’t He understand how much I’m dealing with right now” and disbelief and sadness that I’d treated an assignment so cavalierly. When I’m feeling two opposing feelings at the same time, I freeze (and get quiet).

The fact that He’s holding me accountable for this and intends to punish me makes my pussy wet…not in anticipation of the punishment but that it is a reminder that I’m His. I feel peace under His direction, and I’m glad that I can rest in that – even when I wander off for a moment.

My day sucked.

Besides dealing with all hell breaking loose with one of my work clients (not my fault, but yet-another-problem with the project we’re working on), I have an impending punishment on my mind.

Master brought my attention yesterday to my slacking off in a particular area – weekly reports on instituting daily activities into my life.

I assumed my current life circumstances (a new, big work project) and also the fact that I took the leap into a huge, personal change that we’ve been discussing for a long (long) time would be sufficient explanation. Master deemed these excuses…and my punishment – whatever He decides it to be – will be a factor of how many days I slacked off times the number of excuses I gave for not doing it.

At some level, I get it…and I can’t really argue with his rationale (nor his high expectations of me). But adding punishment to the mix just feels like the straw that is going to break my back right now.

He said I could talk freely on this blog (that my explaining my reasons wouldn’t multiply my punishment), but I’m having a hard time writing all that I am thinking in this public forum. I want to yell and kick and scream and cry “not fair!”

Sometimes I hate how well Master knows me. He sees my struggles and understands yet waits for me to punch out of the paper bag world I’m in.