A Long Way Away

First up, I know it’s been a long time. Thank you for all of the posts and emails of support over the last couple months. Second, it’s been a while, right? There’s been a lot of reasons for that, which will pretty much be the sum and substance of my post today.

The first thing has been the “scare” about someone outing me. It ended up amounting to nothing, but the way I reacted — and my fear at being outed at work, or in my personal life — made me really question if I was ready to be blogging publicly, even under an alias. More than that, it made me question whether I had the right stuff to be in a BDSM-based relationship, and if I was just talking shit about wanting to go public, to be collared in front of others, to join a local scene.

I mean, if my reaction to almost getting outed is to lock down, to shut up, then I’m really something of a hypocrite, right? I’m talking the talk, but not walking the walk. I’m just another loudmouth on the Internet talking about some music scene but too lame to go to any clubs. (Or whatever analogy you want.)

And faced with that…well, I shut myself off. I had an RSS subscription to about 50 BDSM blogs, and I deleted them all. I stopped reading forums at FetishLore. I’d gotten a FetLife account and ignored it. I stopped checking my email. I cut myself off, because I didn’t want to be a hypocrite.

And in addition to that, our attempts to buy a house ended when the economy collapsed. We were still pre-approved, we still had money, but we didn’t want to dive into a mortgage while I was a contract employee. Things got more crowded and less private at the house we were in, and so our sex life disappeared. And we just spent the last few months in neutral — fucking once in a blue moon, but no D/s, no femdom, no S&M. Just…vanilla. Boring, fun but not as awesome as BDSM vanilla.

But we found a house to rent, and we were able to move in a couple of weeks ago. After two months of no D/s, we decided to celebrate our new place with a scene the night we moved out of our old place.

And all of a sudden, I realized that I wasn’t a hypocrite. Being part of some public scene, being out, all of that will be nice when I do it, but the fundamental act of BDSM is practiced in the bedroom. And no matter how ashamed I was of how I reacted to being threatened with outing, I can’t deny one simple truth:

I am a submissive masochist.

My wife made me crawl and bathe her body and fuck her with all sorts of leather accessories on. She beat me. She beat me so hard the flogger started falling apart, so hard my body lit up like it used to — I woke up. That’s the only way to describe it. I woke up and remembered who I was. What I was.

She hit me so hard that she threw out her shoulder, and after she was finished my skin was red and covered in welts and my cock was hard as iron. I fucked her then, and it was beautiful and intense and when we were finished, I realized that somehow, I need to find a way to figure out where I want to go — private submissive, public scenester, whatever, but no matter what it ends up being, it will involve BDSM. My wife and I enjoy sex without it, but with it…it’s like the difference between a bootleg tape and a live show. BDSM is what gets us off.

The other day, at a family dinner, everybody got up and left the table. I was stressed about studying for a big test to get licensed in this state, stressed about her being out of town for a week and leaving me with the kid, stressed. And she said, “What’s bothering you?”

I told her, “I just need to clear my head.”

And she knew what I meant. She knew what I needed. And she looked around, and made sure no one was around, and then punched me in the face. Right in the cheek. And my face lit up in pain but I felt…heavenly. There was a white hot sun of intensity on my cheekbone, but the rest of my body responded…melting, hardening, this divine and paradoxical mixture of pain and pleasure and relaxation and arousal. And she laughed, this rich, belly laugh at the dazed look on my face. A minute later someone peeked in and saw her laughing and me looking at her with a stupid smile, and they don’t know…but we do.

I need this. And I’m sorry I ever doubted myself. Now I just have to make a place for it, figure out how it will fit into my life now that we’re in our own space.