People are often talking about the fantasy of consensual slavery versus the reality of it. They talk about how a lot of books – especially BDSM erotica – romanticize the subject and hide the painful parts. As I’ve mentioned before, a lot of M/s bloggers do, too. Almost as if they’re trying to sell you these relationships, rather than show you what they’re really like. And I guess, to an extent, I get that. I mean, BDSM does still get a bad wrap in the media. Especially relationships like mine.
I kind of romanticized slavery in the beginning, I think. I was pretty much convinced this being owned business was going to be a non-stop pleasureful experience. I mean, how could it not? I wanted with every fiber of my being to belong to this man. To be his slave. To be owned by him. And since I wanted it, I would always enjoy it, right?
Being owned is not always a pleasureful experience. I’m betting you’ve figured that out by now. But it took quite some time for me to realize and come to terms with that. And I still, sometimes, want to kick M in the shin and tell him he’s doing it wrong.
Could you imagine?
M’s big on kneeling. He believes it’s one of the easiest way to teach a slave her place. He always has been. It’s one of the first things he taught me. The first ritual he put in place was kneeling beside the bed until I was given permission to get in it. The second was kneeling by the door to greet him when he got home. So I expected to be on my knees all the time.
I also expected it to never hurt.
And once I realized it was going to hurt occasionally, I expected M to be all, “Aww! Mah po’ behbeh!” and stop making me kneel.
Imagine my shock when he didn’t.
Occasionally, if I’ve been good, and I ask nicely, he’ll let me sit down on the floor. But that depends on his mood, why I’m kneeling and how long I’ve been there. Often if I’m being punished, M ignores all of my pleas, as he should. Usually, though, when it’s training, or a play session, or something, he’ll let me sit down.
I don’t like to ask, though. I feel like every time I do, I disappoint him. I think M takes it as me being stubborn. But really, it’s just me not wanting to let him down.
Though I am stubborn. I’m an Aries, what can I say?
M sort of cemented the belief that I’d always be on my knees by putting me there quite frequently during formal training sessions. He’d order me to the middle of the kitchen floor, and he would circle me, riding crop in hand, telling me in that incredibly sexy voice of his what the night would entail. I’d kneel there in quiet awe as my pussy throbbed and dripped hanging from his lips as if my very existence depended on it. Every night for a month? Two? Is it any wonder I got it in my head that this is what it would be like?
I expected M to always be looking over my shoulder. Constantly telling me what to do. Controlling every aspect of my day right down to the amount of salt I put on my french fries and how many pretzel sticks I could eat.
AND! I expected to like it. I expected each aspect of his control to leave me quivering with desire and begging him to take me. Use me. Abuse me, please!
I think I thought I’d never have to make a decision. I still find myself fumbling in the dark when I try to decide for myself whether I should buy Sour Patch Kids when they’re out of M’s favorite Sour Rainbow Belts, or if I should change it up for something chocolate. Course, if I’d always remember to carry my phone to the convenience store, I could just call him and ask. But that doesn’t help much in decisions about what I want. Isn’t M supposed to tell me that, too?
I read more than one website that said, “Since Master is in complete control, anything that happens in our relationship is his responsibility.” and decided if I got in trouble it was his fault. He needed to correct his behavior. I hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d trained me wrong, that was all. No punishment for me! Just retraining.
And I definitely expected all sorts of horns an fanfare when I’d gotten it right. Like a prize circus poodle performing for treats and laughing children. Only I was performing for M and his lifestyle-aware friends. Surely, I deserved a pat on the head and oceans of praise and affection. My performance is infinitely more difficult than that of a circus poodle!
I think the biggest shock of all, though, was when it occurred to me that he intended to hold me to my promises, regardless of my indignation. To put me through paces, and mold me, and use me to the farthest extent of what my body could endure.
But I wasn’t all that surprised when I realized he wasn’t going to just crash through my barriers with reckless abandon. That he was going to methodically push and pull and tug and cut and tear and break and then put me all back together again the way he wants me.
I don’t always like being micromanaged. Sometimes it makes me feel like I’m suffocating.
I’m not always comfortable making a decision for myself without first asking M what he would like me to do. But most of the time, he doesn’t give me a choice. He knows that I know him pretty well and expects me to act accordingly. But sometimes, he wants me to just do what makes me happy.
I still try to excuse away my transgressions, but I’ve long since stopped trying to use, “Well, you trained me!” as an excuse. Especially now that M has come to terms with the fact that he is the one who trained me and there are things that need fixing. More often than not, I used to get, “You’re right. I did. And now I’m retraining you.” in response. And when you look at it that way, it’s kind of hard to argue with that.
Sometimes I get praise. More often now than before. Because when I finally stopped screaming in M’s face, “You’re doing it wrong!” he started actually listening to what I had to say. And he heard me when I said, “I need positive reinforcement or I will believe I’m not doing any of it right and I will lose hope.” But the visions I had were reminiscent of the genie in Aladdin when Jasmine told her father she wanted to be with Al. All, “Hail, the conquering hero! Ba-da-da-da-da-da-da-da!” with big brass horns and booming drums and showers of confetti and scores of rewards.
Ya know what, though? Turns out, I don’t need all that. Turns out the best reward is curling up next to him and knowing he’s pleased. I know how saccharin sweet that sounds and I’m just as disgusted with myself for saying it as you are for having to read it. But it’s true. And it’s pretty cool finally being in a place where I can say that.
i just have to say bravo, i loved this post
aislinn´s last blog ..Victory!!
I am glad to see such an honest post about this. Even though it’s not something I personally am interested in doing, it’s neat to learn about.
Sarahbear´s last blog ..Yes Means Yes, or Pay Attention!
[...] This post was mentioned on Twitter by SexisM, SexisM and CarrieAnn , Sammi. Sammi said: RT @EdenCafe: I kind of romanticized slavery in the beginning, I think. Non stop pleasure, right? Right? http://bit.ly/bh04Sz [...]
I have always believed in live and let live. And that in all types of lifestyles pretty much, but especially our BDSM lifestyle, there is no absolute right way or wrong way…just the way you do that works for you. I have met slaves (not just subs or bottoms) that are micromanaged to the nth degree and that works for them.I have met slaves that have an immense amount of freedom of a lot of choices, and that works for them. So it varies wildly from couple to couple or group to group. And it is common for newbie slaves and especially slave wannabe’s to romanticize that life and actually expect it to serve THEM instead of them serving the lifestyle and their Master/Mistress. I give tons and tons of credit, applause and kudos to any person that can willingly seek and MAKE WORK that lifestyle with a devoted, loving enough to correct you Master/Mistress. It is not the lifestyle for all of course, but for those that seek it, live it, make it work…it is their nirvana, even their salvation at times. Hugs always. ThePinkPoppet.
thepinkpoppet´s last blog ..The Dusty Books
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