The end of a Dream

All things come to an end, eventually. But for us, this dream we’ve had, I only say we ‘cause being a multiple-it’s really Isa’s dream, sense too young to know any better ends today. Today I put aside her dream of power exchange once and for all.

It’s my job to protect us. I take it serious enough that I don’t do this lightly. I no longer see any way to engage in any power exchange relationship of the kind Isa desires with any measure of safety. I don’t see any way for a part of us to stand as a slave to someone separate from the rest of us. For it is I who am held accountable to all the actions and promises any one of us makes and if I must use that veto power then I need to veto this ahead of time, for all time. As I am not willing to be a slave, as I am not willing to let go of limits, expectations of civility and respect, and the ability to say no, I am out.

I know it is possible for us as a system to be submissive, slave even. I have proof dating six years back of this but that man in all the ways that are important has moved on. Isa needed more than he was willing to give her and her choices were unfortunate. She broke trust and broke herself in the process. I am responsible for it all. The buck stops with me.

I don’t like the idea of cutting away this major part of Isa. But it is a dream deferred if not completely impossible. I don’t see how anyone will be able to scale the walls I’m building now.

Isa knew her Master would have to be extraordinary. That much hasn’t changed. Now the probability of that man existing has narrowed to a degree that makes this a fruitless prospect. You could consider this as me quiting. I think of it as re-pointing all of us to a different goal that we can single mindedly pursue. A Master is no longer our life goal.

Isa isn’t doing too good. I’m stuck out here without her. She’s quiet, too quiet. Right now it’s just a lot of self care, placing her back in places she’s always felt safe, turning tunes on that make her feel safe. This betrayal will take time to get over. It’s just not worth it.

All this upset, all this work and struggle and lessons gained just to face the final lesson, to learn to let go. So I’m forcing us to let go of a dream. I can’t let any of us hold on to the past. I need us to walk into the future happily and hopeful. The past is just gonna drag us down.

I have large dreams that don’t have a damn thing to do with sex or relationships. I will bury our noses into those. Hard work will keep the daemons of the past at bay, long enough for them to evaporate.

Odd thought to all of this, is that there is no way for anyone to master us until I master all of me. And when I do master me, what need I of a master then? For it has always been out of love that Isa knelt. She may love but never kneel until I can first. And that, sadly, my friends, will never happen.

A True Story

Every morning she opens her computer and searches for his profile just to soak in what words he may have penned. Every morning she checks. Every morning she cries. Four years and the feelings haven’t changed. Four years and she’s still wrapped up in torment. Four years and she still feels as lost, lost to time’s ravages, lost to a broken heart, lost to having loved and lost.

Reading other’s poetry is hard to do. One poet has caught her attention and his words are salt on her open wounds. She feels the green rise behind her eyes and screams. Why oh Why is she so insistent in having what she wants? Oh, the Sun shines his light on all, freely and yet her heart beats and screams held in a cage that only one person has the key. Why does her heart only shine for one instead of all?

A beautiful poem she read and it broke something inside of her. She wanted those words for herself and sitting there with tears she blessed those who those words were for, knowing they were never meant for her. It was right there, what she wanted for herself but it was missing one so very important thing, those words were meant for another. She’d never felt the green gaze behind her eyes so keenly before. She recognized this for what it truly was, a lack inside of her.

To be loved all truly want deep down inside. She wanted to know it, to feel it, to have that connection and it was that which glared in neon as missing. She searched her memory and could only come up with one time that she felt that deep connection to another person. But she had pushed and pushed him away and ran. Instincts told her feeling that deeply was dangerous. Experience taught her later that it was already too late.

The connection had been forged and the more she ran the deeper it went. These were the consequences, to be torn open, her heart beating empty and alone. She could see and feel other’s love, could taste it metaphorically now.

Her personal God had banished her to the wastelands, in silence. Like a petulant child she kicked and screamed vile words, anything to get a reaction but was met with nothingness. Just to hear his words over her soul, she opened Pandora’s box, a special folder that contained all of his words, all of her thoughts, everything that was him without being Him. Consumed in pain, she read.

It had been years but it still felt like yesterday. There was no goodbye. In it’s place stood “Fuck off.” At what point does one say all is broken and walk away? What of the ground work of their relationship? The more she tried to be obedient, the more it tied her into knots. Facing the fact she had been abandoned tore at her mind. She rolled the options she saw around in her mind, tossing them off one by one. She was truly stuck, good and well fucked. She could well admit when she makes mistakes but in this perhaps not? Oh, what a load of hubris and yet what if she was right and yet wrong all at the same time? She made a good choice and fucked it all up.

She was alive under his hands and his words. A burning flame of passion and desire. It is so hard to go back to a life without that. She’d tasted ambrosia of the Gods, how was she to live a mortal life after that? You have no choice kept ringing around her mind but He’d taught her otherwise. There was always a choice even when it felt like there was nothing. She didn’t want to taste ambrosia one more time. She wanted to swim in it! She wanted it everyday, any day.

Closing Pandora’s Box left her unsettled. As she gazed out the window she wondered what this choice would cost. There was no way of knowing. If she continued to hold on to Him, she’d shrivel and die of sadness. Wiping away tears she murmured “I will always love Him” and nodded once to herself. Pity the mortals who’s loved the Gods. There is no going back to a mortal life after that. Most fall, few rise. Now was the time to find out which she was. Now.

Casting my eyes behind me

Old threads that pop back up tend to bring back a ton of memories. So, here I am perving on Fet and I run across an age-old question: can slaves have hard limits? What a cluster-fuck.

Basically, there are two camps; one says, of course, there are hard limits and the other goes well, I don’t impose any hard limits. Both sides go to verbal blows over this, cause frankly, one side is in denial or if they are telling the utter truth, they are super scary as fuck. If you can’t tell by now, I am in the camp of yes, I have hard fucking limits.

But I wasn’t always this way. Once upon a time, I was in that other camp. I didn’t want to impose limits on my Master. I had an inkling that there was something fairly tricky to all this slave business with limits and the removal of limits. And there is. There is a way, it is very possible to be that person who becomes a no limit slave. They do exist and yes, I find that scary as fuck.

I am a greedy person. I know this fact about myself. I want my cake and eat it too. Most of the time, I do. But in this, I don’t know. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do that with this lifestyle. I thought it would be a piece of cake, pardon the pun, to find a Master who naturally had the same limits that I do. Yeah, um, I’m still striking out on this one.

And then I met Dreamwalker. I broke my head attempting to work my mind around being anything he wanted, that in being anything meant the elimination of all limits. It is far easier to love the whole world than to accept and take responsibility for being anything and everything. Oddly, both are deeply interconnected. You can only love what you understand and you can only understand that which you are….so yeah. Very mind tripy and extraordinarily painful.

I take words and promises very seriously now. I’ve learned how important that is, the hard way. Yet, I sit here chewing on obedience and what it means to a slave, to me. On one hand, there is a sense that a Master could or perhaps better said, should not order something they know cannot be obeyed. Yet, on the other hand, there is a daring that pushes against that, to hold obedience as the highest virtue, order and purpose. The only way for me to split the difference, so to speak, is to find the extraordinary.

I’m not even looking. I didn’t find it in the first place. But that’s a side tangent, back on track. Both camps are telling the truth from their own perspectives. It’s uncomfortable to look deep and explode this to its logical conclusions. It kinda ruins the magic when you look at how it’s all framed together. And I’m willing to bet, there are few slaves out there that were able to find their extraordinary. Or at the very least, their extraordinary hasn’t been put to the test, so the magic remains.

I want to say for me it’s impossible because of my issues with trust. But then why does impossible say I’m possible?

Yet, I know it is possible. I know all it takes is a fusing to two into one. That’s it. Fait accompli.

I just have no roadmap to this.

I fundamentally do not trust people.

I came crashing into this realization just a few days ago. This isn’t the run of the mill being slow or even painfully slow in trusting. This is a core fact that I do not trust anyone at all. And yet I still operate and function mostly without this causing interesting effects. Mostly.

I don’t want to get into how this realization came about. That it did is enough.

The thing is I know people are capable of anything and this isn’t restricted by morals or circumstances. For me to trust someone, I would have to believe that they are incapable of hurting me in any and for under every possible and impossible circumstance. Knowing that people are capable of anything is easily confirmed because I am unable to be sure of what I’d do or act in any hypothetical scenario.

I can and have developed a level of comfortability around people. It does take a bit of time for this to develop. It does not erase the fundamental fact that I, at my core, I know people are capable of causing harm out of nowhere and at any time. It means I am wary. I am always wary.

Diving deep into myself and seeing how deeply rooted this is, it is foundational. I don’t even know when those foundations were set but it’s early. That caught me off guard with how early it goes, younger than age three.

I talked to my hubs about this, about working to undo this and he told me, not too. He said that this has basically kept me alive all these years and it’s been successful. He said he understands my reactions at times and doesn’t fault me for them, that it’s understandable considering what I’ve gone through. All that may be true but it still bothers me.

I’m starting to see some of the effects this core rule has on me. Feeling unable to rely on others in a crisis, always carrying at least a low-level awareness of vigilance, over analyzing situations and words and protectively reactive to interpretive provocation, which means I don’t always react as I should to what others do or say.

It was an interesting conversation. He made sure I understood that he didn’t want a slave, he wanted an equal partner in life. And that because he wanted a partner and not a slave that he was okay with this aspect of who I am. He views it as making me stronger, that I am able to survive and thrive, that my survival instinct is strong and that he wanted a strong mother for his children, to protect and raise them.

As much as those words make me smile, it also upsets me. I understand now my lifelong quest for a Master was really a quest to find someone I could trust, fully, completely and without reservation. I am left with much to ponder on.

Well, I never!

I have never faked an orgasm in my life. 

I get on Fetlife and read quite a bit and it turns out there are more than a few women who have routinely faked an orgasm. It never occurred to me to even fake one. Oh, I can tease like I’m having one but it’s not the same at all. It’s identical to porn star orgasms which makes me think those are all fakes. Because I sure as hell don’t sound like that!

I have never dressed up in a latex suit. 

I have to say the shiny is very attractive but I’d look like some sort of blobby sausage if I got up in a suit like that. I’ll stick to admiring the photos from afar.

I have never felt the bite of a whip on my skin.

Oh, I sound like a wimp! But I’m not counting all the snap fights I get into with my hubs at all. That sharp snap! Oww!! If he can land a good one, it makes a nice welt and makes me howl but, of course, I wiggle and run and snap back a few good ones of my own.

I have never sung karaoke.

Nope. Nope. And a whole bag full of nopes. Hard limit. I call RED. This is not happening. This is dig heels in territory. I’ve had more than a few friends try this on me with a few drinks in me and yeah, still not happening. Nothing sobers me up faster than saying “Let’s do karaoke!”

I have never gone to a local munch, now that I’ve moved to a different state. 

It’s taken me some time to settle into this place and I’m still feeling my way around here. It’s a bit of a different culture out here and it takes some getting used too. But I’m at a loss to dipping my toes into the local kink community. I’m not sure what I am anymore nor what I want out of kink anymore. A side-effect of too many questions and not enough time and I still have to set priorities. Who knows? Might go one day and say hello.

So, these are my five “Well, I never!” statements. All true and All odd and all just fun to have thought up. So what are your five statements?

I’m very, so very hungry…can you feed me? Pretty please?

Think back to all the plates of spaghetti you’ve eaten in your life. Remember the ones that were really filling and then the plates that were just ho-hum. Sex is just like eating spaghetti. It’s filling and tastes delicious and you want more of it.

Some chefs can only dish out the same for every person. Endless rounds of just pasta and sauce and leave you craving garlic and meatballs. Some chefs get fancy and sprinkle on the parmesan cheese and give a side of garlic bread. A few chefs will ask you how you like your spaghetti and sever up exactly what you asked for. And fewer still, will ask you to take a chance as they blindfold your eyes and feed you.

So, how do you like your spaghetti?

Thoughts on ‘Power Exchange’ part deux

I was asked to clarify my position and if I thought the misconceptions between submissive and slave was brought on by the Masters. Looking at this now, I think I didn’t directly answer that. Whoops.

I’m flat out saying a great deal of these misconceptions is brought about by a lack of understanding psychology.

Most folks understand contracts pretty well, so misconceptions aren’t about contracts. And it’s not really so much as to the definition of slave or submissive. This is kinda like porn, you know it when you see it. And you know when it’s not when it’s not. But defining it gets illusive because each one looks different on the surface.

But there is at least one single defining characteristic that makes the difference between a submissive and a slave. Because this at best is consensual it looks like there is no difference. So it goes to the psychology of the s type.

And yes, I’m pulling a flat out, this is what it is unashamedly. I’m ignoring what one chooses to call themselves in this. Because one can say they are a slave and from what I see, they are actually on the journey to reach that point. And that is fine. I get where they are wanting to go.

Because this is very much a deep process of handing over internal and personal authority, each way there is different for each individual, couple, whatever grouping you have.

Once, they reach the point where saying no, no longer exists, where asking permission has become internalised, where seeking the pleasure of their Master is more important than their own; everything about them internally and externally reflects their Master – that is a slave. And they do not look the same because each Master does not look the same, nor wants the same. But the psychology is the same and the process follows the same pattern.

The psychology is about where the person places the control. Is it external or internal? Is it broad and scattered? Is it narrowed in focus? In a slave, it narrows to a single point, the external control of a Master. Everything flows through the point of the Master.

This is not at all the same as being dedicated to the relationship, the rules, the foundation and everything. That would be a case of the only difference between is what makes the internal psychology of each.

It’s a minor quibble in my eyes. Because in my eyes, someone who takes the label slave is just declaring that this is the point they want to reach inside themselves.

I’m not sure if that’s clear as mud or not. I’m finding it hard expressing this as I see it more as a visual circuit with and or and logic gates.