Last night I read that someone, whose blog I have been reading for over a year, someone who lived the lifestyle with more guts, more commitment, more sheer gusto than me is quitting. Perhaps quitting is the wrong word, it implies she is the one that is ending the relationship, and while she has not told all the details, one cannot help but get the impression that he is the one saying that it is over. But then, no one, no matter how candid their blog, no matter how well you think you know them, …no one ever really knows someone else. No one really knows the whole truth of what really goes on in their hearts and minds. But she is talking about not keeping her blog… and if it is true that her Owner/property relationship is coming to an end… it would make sense that her blog about that would on some level need to end as well.
But the news leaves me reeling. I learned so much from reading her blog, not about whips or sadism or “how to do it right”…I learned that it is real people doing this… and that each relationship is unique and has a life of its own. I learned that like any relationship, owner property relationships, that relationships of complete power exchange can and do exist. Her insights into her submission, her humor, her honesty all taught me that it does not have to be perfect, in fact it can’t be perfect.
My heart broke to learn that they can end. I guess I knew it… you hear about it all the time. But to have it there, raw, bloody, lying in the back of the ambulance… and you aren’t sure if this patient is going to live or if they are on their way to the morgue. It makes me realize how fragile we all are, how vulnerable we all are.
And I had had such a wonderful day, a day when it had gone perfectly. I took a couple hours off from work and came home and mowed the lawn. BEAUTIFUL DAY! Bright blue sky, cool air, the lawn mower was so cooperative… the grass sooooo green. Then I took a shower and made Master a recipe of his favorite dark chocolate chip cookies. Hamburgers for dinner… all was well with the world… in fact I managed to find an old pair of bolt cutters in our cluttered garage and “bit” off an old rusty chain and padlock that had been making Master fucking crazy pissed because he could not get it off and could not get behind the shed to get something he wanted. Hee… he… I wrapped it up in a pretty little white box with a gold ribbon… “To Master… love your slave.” And then I read her blog…
I sat there. I read it once, twice, than a third time. I was not even aware that I was holding my head like I was suddenly aware that it could fly apart at any moment and I wanted to be ready to catch the pieces. Master instantly was aware that I was distressed, asked me if I had a headache or what??? I blinked and looked at him, completely at a loss for words. Mumbled something about how it looked like this lady whose blog I always read was breaking up with her Master… her husband.
And I was so thoughtful the rest of the evening… waves of sadness… and anger… and then overwhelming gratitude to my Master for being the man he is. I know that no matter how well I do this, or even IF I do this… he is not going to quit on me. I am pretty sure he would not let me quit on him now. He knows he can “make” me now. “Make me” long before I turn into the flaming fucking insane bitch that could quit.
The lady had written about types of Masters… Masters who had dogs… if they have the skills and patience to start with an untrained dog… a puppy with all the flaws that a puppy comes with… chewing, peeing, jumping… you get it… a Master who has the vision and skills to train this puppy and patience to wait for the puppy to grow up… or if the owner had no idea… no skills and after having the puppy for a while realizes they are in over their head and has to find a new home for their puppy… or if the Master is the kind of person that knows they do not want to invest the time and just goes out and gets a trained dog. I looked over at my Master… and I know he fell in love with me… married me… put up with me at my worst without any inkling I would be anything different ever. He fell in love with the puppy, with all the bad habits that a puppy can come with… and would have been happy with that puppy for the rest of his life.
I was the one that wanted to grow up… to become something a little better trained. He did not even believe it was possible. I do know he is very much enjoying this new me. And having me trust him, submit to his dominion, allow and embrace his control of anything and everything he chooses to control, …all these things have empowered him in ways that he never imagined. It is not about whips and sex… it is about power and control. The more I let him have it, the stronger and more confident he becomes. Now when I chew, jump up, pee on the carpet… (hey, run with the metaphor damn it!)… he is very much the “alpha dog” and goes all Cesar Milan (dog whisperer for those of you who don’t watch the Nat’l Geo channel) on my puppy ass. All those walks are starting to pay off.
Last night as I knelt at his feet to say good night, to ask the ritual question about where I am to sleep, I wrapped my arms tight around his waist and hugged him like I was going to squeeze him in half. I pressed my face against his belly and fiercely told him how very, very much I loved him.
And I worry about her… how will she bounce back? He had made her quit working. He had moved them far away to another state. He had carved his words of ownership into her flesh, scarring her for the rest of her life with the words “owned cunt” literally carved into the skin of her breasts. I know that she consented to all this… consented to it then… and I desperately hope she does not regret that decision now. I worry about the mundane shit, like money, and food, and housing… and I worry about the deeper shit… like emotional scars and impact on children. It is funny how one can become emotionally attached to the words on the page…to the person behind them that has chosen to share their life with the world… with me.
And I think how in many more subtle ways just adjusting to the ways, the wishes, the control of another bends you, reshapes you… the scars may not be on the surface… but they are there. Even in the most vanilla of relationships we bump and grind against each other, erode the corners, reshape, reforge… just plain fucking recreate each other… and in power exchange, in submission, that recreation is overt, expected and because it is done with intent it feels deeper, more profound… more immutable. I have this sense that I am changed… I do not think I could go back to being the untrained puppy… I don’t think he could go back to tolerating that puppy… and if I could not go back, without him what would I become?
And again I circle back to the awareness that we all are fragile, vulnerable… that I am fragile and vulnerable and that there is no going back… only going forward. Life is a one way trip.
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