I got Master a ball gag for Christmas. He’d pointed me to a web site when giving me His wish list, and said, “Anything from here.”

It was quite the experience shopping for toys for Him…knowing full well that I am the recipient of any selected toy. Picking your own torture device is quite the head trip! I told Him I didn’t think I was brave enough to purchases the most extreme toys, yet I found myself fascinated by them and wondering what they would indeed feel like.

I’d “wrapped” the gag with an undershirt I’d also purchased for Him. (He opened the undershirt gift first, then I asked Him to take the undershirt out of the box where He found the ball gag.) Interestingly, I was infinitely more comfortable shopping in the adult toy store asking, “Where are the ball gags?” than I was asking, “Where is the men’s underwear?” in the high-end department store.

He said He got hard just looking at it! He was a bit surprised this is what I got. I’ve always expressed an aversion to breath play, and early on in our relationship I shared how uncomfortable looking ball gags looked. I worried that I would panic and not be able to breathe.

That aversion has definitely been subsiding, though. I love burying my face into Master’s chest while He’s fucking me and feeling that moment of suffocation. I’ve grown more fascinated with ball gags while watching kink.com videos. I’d started fantasizing and longing for knowing what being fucked while wearing one felt like.

I went to the bathroom before He fucked me that day. As I wiped, I realized I was already sopping wet. He was hard, and I was wet…obviously we were both turned on by the thought of me being gagged!

I wondered how I would ask to cum while being gagged. Turns out, mumbling in the context of being gagged is quite understandable.

He warmed me up with some nipple play. He slapped my breasts hard, and I almost came just from that! I begged Him to let me cum, and He withheld permission momentarily. I wonder if I would have been punished for cumming just from having my breasts slapped. It took all of my energy to wait for permission.

With the gag on, I was surprised how quickly my level of surrender deepened. I felt myself open up to Him in a way and to a level I have not felt yet. I had the wherewithal to ask permission to cum as required but wave after wave of orgasm came over me. Instead of fearing being out of control, I relished the shift – where His movements and His commands controlled my body.

Interestingly enough, I have now been working out with a personal trainer for six months now. In the past couple of weeks, I noticed that I passed a milestone I didn’t even I know I’d hit, and that is I feel so much more in control of my body. I notice it when I walk, when I go to sit down and even when Master is fucking me. My strength to hold positions has greatly improved.

What’s even more interesting and curious to me is that just as I feel more in control of my body, I have a deeper experience of surrendering to Him.

He knocked on the bedroom door and startled me awake. I fumbled to figure out what time it was while He started to undress. 7:30 am. He said He’d come over on Sunday but didn’t say what time…and 7:30 am would not have been my first guess.

He entered me without any foreplay. “You’re wet,” He said. Maybe it was from going to bed horny; maybe it was just the act of watching Him undress; maybe it’s just when I see Him, my body responds.

My first orgasm was quite the gusher. It ran down His leg and went outside the cum blanket I like to lay down to ease the washing requirements that come with being a squirter. I care about those things when I’m doing the laundry afterwards, but I really don’t care about them with Him inside me.

It’s not unusual for me now to have several (upon several) orgasms. Master counts them. I cannot keep track after the first one or two…I have lost all executive function after that.

I am required to ask to cum. I have messed up before and cum in the heat of the moment without asking. Nevertheless, I have a pretty good track record in the asking department. “May i cum?” gets repeated over and over again. Hearing His deep voice whisper, “Yes,” in my ear sends me right over the edge.

There comes a point, though, where it is not just multiple orgasms but truly one immediately after another. When this happens, it is like being on a roller coaster and just as I come over the edge of one, my body picks up momentum for the next one, and the next one and the next one. The sensation is very surreal. It has happened before, but this time was different.

I felt the roller coaster start. My body was letting go. I wanted to let go of any thoughts, and let His rhythm dictate my pleasure. I felt not only the tingling in my body but the butterflies in my stomach. I both cursed and welcomed asking permission to cum. Having to ask intruded on the flow. Yet it did help keep me from wandering into this unknown frontier. I lingered on that blurry edge between His control and my control, conflicted about letting go.

Now my clit is pulsing as I write this, and I crave getting back to that edge. That blurry edge can be frightening, and yet all I can think about is how to get back to that edge…and to surrender.

I remember the first time I heard his name. I was preparing for a job interview. The hiring manager was briefing me on who might be some of the people on the team who would interview me. She said he could ask tough questions, so be prepared.

I remember the first time I saw his face. I’d been invited to the work holiday party for the job I was about to start. He was one of many people I did not know yet. (He didn’t end up being one of the interviewers.) He was there with his girlfriend. He caught my eye, but it was the briefest of moments…the kind of moment that we have many times over with any one person and think nothing of at the time.

A couple of years later, we were talking more. He seemed to go out of his way to talk to me. Again, one of those things one might not notice at first but then suddenly catches on that it is different than usual. I’d furrow my brow resisting wandering thoughts about him. No, he’s a co-worker. He’s just friendly. Back to work.

We went out for drinks. Tequila tasting. The fine stuff. He opened up a whole new world teaching me about the various types of tequila, the ones he’d tried, the ones we should try that night. Casual. People go out for drinks all the time. I had fun. We hugged good night. See you Monday.

He shared a newspaper article featuring another place that served fine tequila in the City. I glanced at it. It sat on my desk for a long time. Busy. I’m busy with work, you know.

He told me randomly one day that he had a dream about me. Another fleeting moment. What? That jarred me. Really? I’m not making this up in my head?!?

I finally returned the newspaper to him some weeks later with a note that said we should go and check this place out sometime. Before I could blink, the note was back on my desk with a reply that said, “Anytime.”

The whole time I was driving to meet him, I thought that I would have sex with him that night. It wasn’t a giddy, anticipatory feeling. It was a knowing…the kind of knowing that makes more sense in with the benefit of hindsight than it does in the circumstances of the moment. I told myself, “If it happens, great; if not, that’s fine, too.” It wasn’t about rational thought, though. It was more like a magnet…an attraction operating at a level that I had yet to comprehend.

That was fifteen years ago. Little did I know the man I was sleeping with that night was my Master.

“Surrender means that you open to your lover every aspect of self for their exploration. It means that you can allow yourself to be taken on a journey without knowing the destination. Only in sharing every part of self, even the parts or secrets you are ashamed of, and especially the parts that hurt, can you truly surrender.” - Anonymous

I spent last weekend with some girlfriends. We got to talking about how we handle anger and other strong emotions. One friend observed that I never seem to get ruffled and that I’m so even keel. I just laughed because that is usually far from the truth and that my reaction on the inside and behind closed doors is not even keel.

Master knows the “not so even keel” side of me. Because I feel safe with Him, I tend to let out my feelings and vent. Sometimes all I need Him to do is listen; other times He can say things to calm me.

There is still a part of me, though, that gets scared and pulls inward. It might appear as stoicism to everyone around me including Master, although to Him it might appear more like lethargy. When I’m in this zone, I’m usually struggling to figure out how I’m feeling. The words don’t come (it can even be hard to journal). I’ll tell people I’m tired or something, but really I just want to fly under the radar.

Transparency is key to any D/s relationship. In many ways, being transparent with Master has gotten easier since being collared. In some ways, though, I’m still struggling. I tend to hold back when I haven’t figured out what my emotions are myself. I don’t think I can share them with Him if I can’t be fairly articulate about what they are.

Sharing my confusing emotions feels like a leap – a vulnerable leap. It’s hard to think of handing Him my raw emotions – not because I think He’ll do something hurtful with them but because it is ceding a level of control.

If I hold back and ruminate on things, then I have a chance to shape the clay of my emotions. By the time I share them with Him, I’ve already exerted a certain level of interpretation that controls what comes out. What I share may still be pliable and open to His input, but I’ve already started to shape it. Sharing my emotions with Him in those early, inarticulate stages is like handing him the ball of clay that is me – with no shape or form – just me.

It’s hard to think of giving up that kind of control when I’m caught up in the feelings, but it makes it easier when I start to see it as another level of surrender.

Today I was thinking about how people looking at BDSM from the outside often have trouble distinguishing why this is different from abuse or may be horrified at women or men subjugating themselves to another like we do. Actually, it is just not those outside the lifestyle; people opening up this part of themselves for the first time are often battling their desires with cultural norms and trying to define the difference for themselves.

I, too, have struggled with this concept. More so when I first claimed my submissiveness, although the feeling has cropped up at points over the years as I continue to peel the layers of self-knowledge.

As I was driving today, I realized it could not be more crystal clear that this thing we do (TTWD) is not even close to abuse or being treated less than another.

This weekend, Master and I had a deep, emotional conversation – one in which He was holding up the mirror to some of my behaviors and helping me sort out complicated feelings I was having. He was blunt and honest with me in a way I think most people avoid (even when they’re close). At the end of it, He asked me if He was too tough – trying to gauge my reaction and not wanting to push me over some edge. I assured Him he was not too tough, although I’m sure that was difficult to discern through my tears.

As I reflected on that conversation today, I realized there was no way I could be “less than” in this relationship. If anything, being in this relationship demands that I express myself fully. I can’t be “less than” with Him. Well, I could but our relationship would hit some ceiling that would eventually prove dissatisfactory for one or both of us.

This is not a one-way street. I think that being your full self is expected of Him, too – and any Dominant/Master and submissive/slave. Yes, the power structure puts the decision-making into one person’s hands but that in no way suggests that the other is “less” because of it. If anything, the only way this kind of power structure works is if both people open themselves up and be all that they are meant to be.

There was a time when I equated being vulnerable with being hurt. When I’d make myself vulnerable, I’d almost immediately panic and start anticipating or seeing hurt around me. I’m now starting to equate vulnerability with safety, comfort and love. There may be pain as the old beliefs break up and fall apart, but there is no fear because I know who has my back (and my front and my top and my bottom …the person who owns all of me).

BDSM comes in a variety of flavors of which M/s is one. And within M/s there is another level of variety. Some relationships center on service; others emphasize pain and bondage. Some Masters don’t mind a bit of sassiness because it adds to the dynamic of them overpowering their slave; others prefer not to wrest control from the one they own.

The characteristic, though, that is consistent in all these relationships is the need for emotional transparency from their slave. This has been a particularly difficult area for me in the past, and an area that has been transforming since my collaring.

It’s taken me a long time to realize that He can only truly own me when I give Him all the information about what’s going on inside me. If He doesn’t know how I’m feeling or what I’m thinking or what I want, then He cannot make decisions that guide me and us in the direction He desires.

One thing that has helped me with this is having to write a weekly report to Him. Initially I asked for this as a way to report to Him on an assignment He’d given me. He didn’t necessarily want me to report on this; He just wanted me to do it. But I knew it would be easier for me if I had the accountability of reporting to Him. So, I started the weekly reports, and then stopped them after a few weeks when I got busy with work. I’m still awaiting punishment for stopping those reports. I resumed them when He told me I had a punishment coming, and I’ve written them every week like clockwork since.

It’s become much more than reporting on an assignment. It’s an exercise of pausing every week to check in with myself and tell Him how I’m doing. Each week, I find myself opening up more and more. Each time I open up, He affirms how safe it is to do so with His responses. Each piece of myself I open up and share is one more step in surrendering all of me to Him.

A dream I shared with Master…

~~~~~~~~~~

I thought you’d enjoy hearing about the dream I had last night…

I’m quite not sure where we were, but you decided that you wanted to send me home with shackles on my feet. I protested that my family would see the shackles and that they would not be easily explainable. You said that was my challenge to deal with. You did say that I didn’t have to advertise the shackles (i.e. I could hide them under blankets, etc.) but I could not just hide in my room so that nobody would see them. I had to participate in family activities/discussions and just find clever ways to conceal the shackles.

So, I was home with the shackles. It was a multi-level house and my family lived on different floors. Not only was I concerned about hiding them but also how I would walk up the stairs with the shackles. I was able to participate in family activities and successfully hide the shackles. I was surprised more questions weren’t asked because even if they couldn’t see them, I thought for sure they would hear the noise they made. At the very least, I thought they would notice my different behavior. You’d told me before I went home that this was just the beginning. I would wear them around the house first, and then later you would have me wear them in public. Also, foot shackles were first. Hand and foot shackles would follow.

Interesting dream, huh? (My pussy tingles even as I write this…)

~~~~~~~~~~

…and Master responded…

Very interesting indeed!  I’m enjoying your acceptance and willingness for being controlled–whether it be physically or otherwise. Makes me smile….

The day after I wrote “breaking my will” to Master, He came over. We spent the afternoon together…having sex interlaced with a deep discussion of how I felt lost and stuck.

“You still can control; you just don’t want to,” He tells me. I knew deep down what He was saying was true, but it was nothing like how I was feeling at this point in time.

I had a few orgasms asking for permission to cum each time and then He told me to cum. My body responded and came – seemingly bypassing my brain again. I started to cry and lamented out loud, “What is happening to me?”

He let me cry, providing that energetic shield of love and support to allow me to fully experience the feelings.

When I calmed down, He asked, “Do you feel damaged?”

“No…I wonder if I’m being brainwashed,” I replied. As much as I desire this, the part that worries and protects me from “being tricked” has been surfacing.

He laid on top of me as He has done so many times over the years. Not once has His weight on top of me been an issue…until that day. He was fucking me, and the weight of His body started to feel like it was crushing me. I couldn’t breathe and started hyperventilating. I felt like He was sinking into me. I was letting Him in at every level – physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually – and I panicked like I was suffocating. He got off me, and I’m crying loudly and trying to catch my breath. He caressed me, and I slowly calmed down. When I’ve finally caught my breath, and I’m breathing as normally as possible, He tells me how hard my crying made Him. Hearing that comforted me because I realized I wasn’t falling apart; I was falling right into Him.

“I feel like I’m dying,” I say.

“Do you feel like you’ll go away?” He asks.

“No, I feel like a part of me is dying.” I answer.

“Is that a good thing?”

“Yes.”

“What will happen when that part dies?”

“Well, I don’t know if this fits your definition, but I’ll be your slave.”

He started fucking me again, and I started hyperventilating again. I asked Him not to get off me completely, although He did rise up enough not to be resting on my chest. I was trying not to push the panic away…to just let it be there.

After resting in each other’s arms for a while, we got up off the bed. He did say that once I’ve calmed down and accepted this, I’d be His slave. It was hard to believe I might be close. As much as I’ve wanted to rush the process in the past, I was getting the importance and significance of being in this moment, and my need to rush it had receded.

As He left, He told me I was now on masturbation restriction – that I would have to ask permission each and every time I wanted to masturbate. He explained how this would require forethought on my part to get permission – say before bedtime.

I smiled and for the first time in the weeks since cumming on command, I felt an inner calm.

This is an e-mail I sent to Master sharing with him my internal struggles about cumming on command…

~~~~~~~~~~

I shared that I had a tough time last weekend, and you asked me why it was so tough. It’s hard for me to pinpoint. I know that during the weekend my attitude was, “Fuck it!” and I just proceeded to do what I thought I wanted. Of course, I didn’t feel good at the end.

It seems cliche to say I was grabbing for control (although eating disorders have a lot to do with that). I have felt lost since cumming on command. Actually, I’ve felt schizophrenic. On one hand, I am calm and fine; on the other, I am panicking. At any one moment, I can be feeling one or the other. I feel like I’ve been teetering on the line of two worlds…with the question, “Which one am I going to choose?

The part of me that panics is not worried about the idea of cumming on command, but the experience was totally different than what I expected. It was so…automatic. My brain was thinking, “I’m not ready yet,” and my body said differently. In some ways, it felt like I wasn’t even there…but it was me…and it just ends up being so confusing.

It’s easy to get caught up in the romantic notions of surrendering…”my will is His will.” Even in the vanilla world, mushy notions of being one with your partner is the stuff of wedding vows and Hallmark cards. Yet now – having had a taste of truly surrendering my will – I shake my head a bit that people (including me) don’t seem to understand the depth of what they are asking for when they say that. Don’t get me wrong, the idea is no less beautiful or no less desired – it is just one thing to think you want to be One with someone and another to experience it.

On other slave blogs or posts to groups on FetLife there is talk about ideas like, “Am I really a slave?” These conversations often center around the fact that in our society, a person cannot be legally owned by another. So really, if a slave decided, “This is it. I don’t want to play anymore” there is nothing legally binding a person to stay. What strikes me about these conversations is that it seems wonderful to create a world where your will becomes another’s but really…isn’t this just a world we create that is separate from reality?

I’ve been happily going down this path toward slavery, and I do so badly want my will to be broken. Yet, I realize now that I always thought that my choice would still be involved. I thought that breaking my will would involve me somehow aligning my choices with yours but – that as much as we could fantasize about me being owned by You – that as a human in a free society my brain would still have to make the conscious choice to do as You say or be as You want me to be. You could command me to do certain things, but – in the end – I would still have to make the choice to follow.

So when my body obeyed and my mind seemed to be bypassed, I was stunned. And then when I masturbated and couldn’t cum or just had weak orgasms, I really panicked. My brain is thinking one thing, and my body is doing another. It’s scary…and it’s nothing like how I thought breaking my will would look like.