So Where Are We Now…?

I spent the last four posts talking about our weekend for a reason. (Okay, I was also bragging a bit — two reasons.) But really, the last two times we’ve gotten together, and the attendant scenes that went along with them, have been an evolution in our relationship, a kind of shining path to…where ever it is that we are now.

So where are we?

Like I said, I think my definition of what I am has changed, even if the word used to name it hasn’t.

I’m her slave.

And being a slave means, for me, not being able to say no anymore. I can say “I can’t,” but I won’t say no. I don’t know if I can. It’s not like I’ve been brainwashed into this, it’s not some mystic transformation. This is not some weird mind-control erotica. But it’s a choice I’m making based on where we’re at: she’s tested me. She’s sipped my blood and whipped me worse than I’ve ever been whipped before — even in fistfights — and I haven’t said “no,” and I haven’t said “stop” unless it’s because she’s pushed me passed my breaking point and the plea to stop is coming from something beneath my conscious mind.

No, wait, it isn’t a choice I’ve made consciously, because I don’t recall making a choice. I think it’s more like a place I’ve reached, while on a journey. It’s the Land-of-Do-As-She-Pleases. It’s the place where all of the bullshit stuff is stripped away and she sits on me and I become a pincushion or a medical experiment or something to drink, and it’s the most intimate thing in the world. I’ve never been as close to another person as I am with her during these scenes. And I’ve never been as…moved by another person’s will, never been as comfortable in my own skin, or with giving up control, as I am then.

The only thing that has ever come close to the degree of emotional power that I feel with my wife during these moments are “milestones” in my daughter’s life — her birth, her first words, her making up a song for me, etc., and those are of a completely different tone. And not only that, but these moments with my wife happen with incredible frequency. Not every time we scene, but often enough where I think that she and I both are addicted. No, I know we are.

I talked my wife into trying D/s with very little hope she’d embrace it, and precious little idea of what it would eventually become. My idea of BDSM was showy, online fetish-model photo-shoots. And my idea of myself was a boot-fetish submissive. It certainly wasn’t a guy wearing his wife’s name scrawled in blood on his chest. Or a guy who got pegged. Or a guy who stayed in a state of constant near-ejaculation because his wife was hitting his balls with a crop.

I feel like I’ve hit a…I don’t want to say plateau. Even as I reach this acceptance of my situation, I realize that we’re on the cusp of new things — cockrings and bondage being two big ones. We’re not stopping. But I realize — and more importantly, my wife realizes — who we are, and what we’re capable of. The fact that she could strike me with anger in her heart, even if it wasn’t “abusive” anger, and that I would take it, and accept it, and get off on it — that’s a big moment. That’s what I’d call a defining moment in our relationship. So not a plateau, but a milestone.

So here we are. After seven or eight months, we’ve reached the end of the beginning. I’ve seen what she’s capable of — I’ve seen what I’m capable of letting her do — and I’m alright with it. And more importantly, she’s become strong and dominant and cruel and she’s alright with that side of her. She’s okay with seeing me genuinely writhe in pain with tears in my eyes, because she trusts me to safeword if I need to, and trusts herself to stop if and when I do that*. The door is open for … for everything now.

*My wife commented that I didn’t point out that when she punished me the other night, she stopped the split second I safeworded. She was quite proud of her self-control, and she deserves props for it, because she’s told me she was in a very heated, frenetic, and “rage”-filled — her word — headspace. So, here’s a note about it, because I think it’s very important that she get some congratulations for it, and I think the fact that she did so influenced my confidence in her abilities as a sadist.

I realize that I could stop this blog tomorrow. I started it to work through a lot of issues involving my fear of the Gimp and my worries about where all this comes from, and because the blogosphere around here was my only tie to the larger BDSM community. But I don’t want to, because I know that even though I’ve hit a milestone, the journey’s not over. The trip’s just beginning. She’s coming down in the next week, and I hope to take her up to Fetish Factory and buy some more bondage toys and our first cockring or ball-tie and maybe some kind of shock-unit.

But what’s important is, I realize who I am. Who she is. I’ve always called myself a slave on this blog — but it’s only in the last week that I finally realized what slavery means to us.

PS: I will most definitely be updating my blogroll and the blog to mark the occasion of this kind of happy milestone, so if you know I read your blog — and there are a lot of you whose blogs I read that I haven’t added yet — then know my next step is to get that done.

Thanks for reading, everybody.