Illusions of Control

I dropped my Master off at the airport just a few hours ago, and I already miss him incredibly. My lips are bruised from his biting kisses. He’s asked me to post my favorite memories of our time together here, so I’ll be doing that over the next few days. Right now I’m going to write about something that didn’t happen, but that will happen, and the lesson that it (re-) taught me.

Back in April, when we began, I told my Master (who wasn’t my Master yet) that I’d always wanted to try D/s, as opposed to the garden-variety kinky sex that we – like most couples – had been indulging in. When I suggested it, I thought it would just be something that we’d turn on and off – I’d get ordered around more in the bedroom, but nothing else would really change.

Of course, I couldn’t have been more wrong. From the moment he threw his collar on the floor in front of me and told me to pick it up in my teeth, I knew I was in for something much more than I expected, and I’ve been loving it and (unconsciously) fighting it simultaneously since then.

You see, I’m a control freak. And while I liked the idea of giving him control over me in the bedroom or in my dress, in the back of my mind I held onto this idea that I still had control. For a long time that idea was encapsulated in the thought that he was just doing this “for me.” Eventually I accepted that that wasn’t true, that he was getting his own needs met through dominating me, and a little bit more of my illusion of control slipped away. Slowly, continuously, he’s been stripping away every last vestige of that belief from me, and it always takes me by surprise. I think I’ve given him everything, but then I realize that no, I’m still unconsciously holding something back.

The latest stripping of my illusions came when, in the middle of something or other, my Master casually mentioned that he wanted to scratch his name on my ass or belly with a pin. I moaned, and protested in a sweetly submissive fashion while my brain was spinning with “he wants to do what?!” And I realized that I’d been holding on to this belief that I was safe in submitting to him because – from what I knew about him and his likes and dislikes and kinks – he wouldn’t ever want to do to me the things that I would fear having done to me. My limits were perfectly safe, I thought.

But my Master wants to scratch his name in my ass with a pin. And someday he will do it. And before he does it, I will beg him for it, and I will mean it. And if he wants to do that, then nothing is safe.