Pushing Boundaries

Last night, while sitting at his computer, the Masterly type turned to me and asked, "How do you say 'what time' in Spanish?"

I told him, "Que tiempo."  I did the student abroad time in Costa Rica in high school, and used to be pretty good at Spanish.  Now, it's best to catch me off guard instead of me trying to think.  Anyway, I figured this was a test.

He said, "That's what you need to ask her."

Being as I was playing a game and not on Fetlife that second I asked, "Who?"

He said, "Rawr.  On Fetlife."  Rawr is a very cool girl we met at a munch recently.  I might or might not be getting a girl crush on her.  Or it could just be that she understands the connection between me, Lush products, and glitter.  At any rate, I went to look it up.  She was headed for wings tonight (the next night, as I was reading it then.)  I did ask her what time, though I managed to use English, not Spanish to do so.  I also probably did so in my usual socially awkward dorky fashion, but it's hard for me to rate myself, because I think everything I do is awkward.  Master just thinks it's cute.  We're both prejudiced.

I tell this story, because later he told me that I wouldn't have asked if he hadn't pushed me, and he was right.  I like that he pushes me to be a better person, and to get past my fears.  Talking to people is a big fear of mine, because I feel like I never know what to say.  I used to be painfully shy when I first met him, to the point that friends in high school used to poke a bit of fun at me for it.  I could go out for a whole evening with friends and manage to say less than half a dozen words.

One of the best things for me, about living in a D/s relationship, is that there's someone in the world who pushes me and doesn't let me stagnate.  We all should be learning and growing in our lives, and becoming our best selves, but when we're left to our own devices, I think most of us - or maybe just me, who knows - tend to push ourselves only in the ways we feel the most comfortable.  For example, I really wanted to have the structure of some kind of a faith in my life, but for years couldn't figure out what that was.  Because I was comfortable in pushing myself in that area, I went to tons of churches, temples and synagogues to figure out where I fit, and I finally discovered wow, I'm a Buddhist.  Who knew?  I thought I'd end up Wiccan or Pagan or something.  But no.

However, I also have an irrational and unexplained fear of having my feet not on a stable surface.  I don't like being in the air for any reason (heights don't bother me at all.  When we were apartment hunting in Calgary I happily stood at the railing of a balcony on the forty-something-th floor  looking at the view while the Masterly one glared at me from inside of the patio doors shaking his head, cause there was no way he was going out there with a railing that was well below his waist) but Master pushes me on this.  I used to be uncomfortable even sitting on his lap, because my feet weren't touching the floor.  It's a type of loss of control that makes me just a little bit crazy, but I'm getting better.  But only because he pushes me into situations where I'll deal with it, face my fears, let myself feel safe because he's there, and slowly move in the direction he wants me to go.

Either that, or he just likes seeing me scared.  Come to think of it.......

"It's not the amount of pain, it's that it's pain that is important."

We were strolling through the park on a beautiful Friday afternoon, hand in hand. Our tiny white dog trotted along at our feet.  Kids were fishing in the lake.  We were talking BDSM.  It's funny, they say that 90% of the time, full time M/s couples look 90% vanilla, but no one says anything about listening.  People should listen in more often.

"You're right, it's not the amount of pain.  I don't like pain.  I don't like pain for pain's sake anyway.  I sucked for online Doms before I met you."

He laughed.  "How so?"

"Because they'd tell me to do something and I'd say no.  Forget it.  I'm not interested.  You can't make me.  I don't want to hurt myself.  I'd tried it once or twice and it did nothing for me, so why would I want to do it again.  No.  And them telling me to do it wasn't a turn on either.  I wanted the control of them doing it, or physically there to make me endure it.  Pain for pain's sake is just nothing to me."

He studied me as we walked.  "Because it's the control you crave?" he asked.

I nodded.  He was right, of course.  "Because it's the being controlled by someone that gets to me.  When you hurt me I love it, because you are controlling whether I feel pain or pleasure.  Me doing it to myself doesn't have any meaning."

He swatted my ass.  I squealed happily.

___________________________________________________

So, why is this conversation from last week running through my mind today?  Because today, what I want so very much is for my Master to hurt me.  I am craving the pain that is beyond what I would ever really want to tolerate.  I want him to make me suffer for him in a severe way.  I want to cry and plead and beg and not have it matter at all to him. 

This doesn't happen every day.  Some days I want to be loved and gently cared for.  Some days I want to have Daddy snuggle with me and my stuffed giraffe on the sofa and watch a movie.  Some days I want to just be bent over and taken passionately, fast and hard and fairly vanilla except for maybe some yanks of my hair and smacks to my ass.  But not today.  Today I want to offer up that suffering as a sacrifice.  I want him to drag the pain out of my body sensation by sensation, to lord over me with his power and control, to watch me grovel and weep and to mercilessly make me take more than I ever imagined I wanted to, even more than I imagine he'll want to right now.  I want savagery.  I want to know that I can't get away, that I can't stop it, and best of all, that it's all for him.


The problem is, of  course, that he may not want to.  That's the trouble with being a slave.  Sometimes when you really want to snuggle, Master wants to try the new nipple clamps.  Sometimes when you want to ache and cry, he wants a kitten purring at his feet.  I usually try to sublimate my own desires and ignore them.  I'm shy about asking for what I want.  I'm embarrassed and don't want to be any trouble, and just want him to be happy.  It's hard for me to remember that what makes him happy is knowing what's going on in my head.

So, I'm here.  Where I can say it "out loud" and maybe he'll see it.  And later, I might be on my knees, begging for him to hurt me more.

The Horror of the Feather on a Stick

After our most recent foray into a local adult toy store, where they appeared to have the most enormous number of different kinds of feather toys I have ever seen, Master keeps threatening to get one of those feather on a stick things to tickle my feet.  "Hard Limit!" I yelled.

"You're not allowed to have those." he said calmly.

"Safeword!" I yelled. 

He laughed.  "What's your safeword?" he asked. 

I paused. "Uhhhh... Safeword?" 

"Safeword is not a safeword."  He tweaked my nipple, provoking a cry.  "Neither is 'ow'," he explained as he continued his play, "Besides, you're not allowed to have one of those, either."  (Technically this is true, however he gives me one usually when we're trying something new or if he's having issues reading my reactions to something).

"I would rather be beaten by a belt!" I offered.  No dice, it just made him laugh again. Probably because I have this thing about liking belts...

"I know you would, slut."

I considered.  "A bamboo cane!  I'd rather be beaten by a bamboo cane!"  It's true, my horror of tickling knows no bounds.  I've never actually been beaten by a bamboo cane, only a fiberglass one, so I really have no idea what I was offering, but in my opinion it can't have been worse than tickling.

By this point, Master was laughing so hard I thought the conversation was over.  Eventually, he choked out, "You'd rather be beaten with a cane than tickled, huh?  I really do have to get one of those feathers on a stick for punishments."

I think I'm sunk.