Since we’ve been exploring both objectification and his own sadistic leanings, pain is shifting into an expression of his power and dominance of me and I’m still learning to process it.  By no means is he a sadistic bastard every time we go to fool around or even play, but he is getting more comfortable in admitting those leanings to himself so it is coming up a bit more often.  A few weeks ago we did the preparations for me to enter object space and he was, to be frank, a sadistic bastard.  I sported the bruises of the breast slapping for a good two weeks and have now developed a full-on hatred for the crop.  I made the mental preparations to get in the right mind-set and we did the work after to get me out of object space.  He had more trouble processing the scene than I did, but it was one of the first times he really let his sadistic side out to play.

Last night was a little different.  We did one of those, “But I thought you were going to tell me when you were ready to go up,” kind of things so by the time we did get upstairs it was really too late for the full-on impact play scene I was hoping for.  One thing led to another as they always do, and I got to see the kind sadist.  The kind sadist nurtures and praises me for what I can take, but it’s still outright pain he is causing me.  We have a bad habit of falling into really big things with no preparations and last night was again one of those situations.  I took a hell of a lot of breast and nipple torture last night, and towards the end it was all I could do to not cry out as he pinched and pulled at me with surprising intensity.  There was no depersonalization, his voice was kind and gentle always in complete contrast to what he was doing to me.  He told me what he wanted from me in the future, how he looked forward to kissing away my tears from the pain he inflicted on me and how he waited for the day I would beg to receive crop blows on my breasts.

This scene was much harder for me to process and I’m still doing some emotional bouncing from it.  If sadism is to be the focus of our play for the evening, I need to do similar preparations as I do for getting into object space.  This is similar to object space, but different.  There is a strong sense of the trust that exists between us and I am definitely still his girl, but oh the awful things he’s doing to his girl.  Breathing through the pain, trying to be as silent as possible and finally when I couldn’t hold back gasping and even letting out stifled cries.  Even as part of me cringes at the memories of it, I am longing to submit to him in this way again.

Due to the hour last night, we didn’t get to do much beyond basic cuddling after the scene ended.  We got to have a good debriefing this morning and deconstruct what happened and how it affected both of us.  He needed to remind me numerous times that my tears and need for care were not signs of weakness and he marveled at the strength and trust I posses to submit to him in this fashion.  He made a decision that as with the objectification, I am to be in charge of when it happens.  He will not require this type of service from me unless I am willing to give it.  After writing this post, I am coming to the conclusion that I want to give up this control to him, that I am truly at his service whether that be as his toy or his girl and it is his decision as to what he does.

As we move deeper into things, both in the bedroom and without, I am finding it easier and easier to submit to him, and in that submission I feel safe and loved.  It seems like everything I had considered a hard limit is being stripped away, or at least pushed to its utmost edge.  My fears are becoming less and less pronounced as we progress.  Every level of control I relinquish, every step I take in my submission is met with his strong hands guiding me and catching me when I take the leap.

I can imagine myself naked, kneeling in the middle of the floor wearing my collar.  My eyes are down cast, working on achieving the proper object head space for you.  I breath in and whisper the word, “Master”, I breath out and whisper, “I am yours to use.”  I repeat this as I wait for you, sinking deeper and deeper into the head space that allows me to become your toy, to belong utterly to you, to have nothing in my mind but to follow your commands and to do whatever is asked of me.

I am yours and I do belong to you, but this is deeper.  This is the complete suppression of self to your will.  I exist for your will, and your will alone. I can go this deep because I love you and I trust you utterly.  I can completely abandon myself to you.  I will speak only when spoken to.  I will address you only as “Master” because that is who you are.  I sit patiently waiting to see how you will use me that evening with no desires or expectations outside of being your toy for this period of time.  I am completely yours.

When you are finished, I will come back and be your girl once more, your beloved pet.  Not a toy to be used, but your girl to be cherished.  I will process my object space, leave it behind and allow myself to be taken care of by you.

I do want this desperately, Master.  Will you help me achieve it?

I don’t know how deep we’ll get this weekend, but the groundwork is being laid.

I’m coming down with one of those colds that’s just enough to make you feel like shit but not enough that you can justify staying in bed.  Sunday I was feeling miserable and for the first time actually allowed myself to be taken care of.  He told me to go back to bed in the morning, to take a nap in the afternoon, and to go to bed early that night.  I actually laid next to him on the couch so he could stroke my hair and whisper, “I love you, pet,” to me several times that day.  By the time the kids were in bed, I was a bit shaken because while I’ve always wanted this, I’ve never actually gotten it.  The new dynamic allows me to lower those walls of control and finally ask for what I want and need, not what I think others will deem acceptable.  So it’s freeing and scary at the same time.

The way our dynamic is unfolding feels like a natural extension of our marriage; the groundwork has been here the whole time but we’ve always avoided it because that’s not the way it’s supposed to be.  I would think that I’d be reluctant to hand over this level of control over my daily life to him, but it’s something we’ve both wanted for years.  It feels completely natural now to receive a list of chores in the morning or to ask him if I can use the computer or smoke a cigarette.  The flip side is that I can be more affectionate with him, something I’ve always wanted but have never been sure how to ask for it.  I can pout because circumstances are preventing us from playing that night and he can see just how much I desire him.  I can finally let go of my public face with him.

I am so happy to call him Master and I feel so lucky to be his girl.

Another hard limit was face slapping, and trust me when I say that I wanted nothing to do with that.  Spanking and biting I love and had no trouble processing.  Face slapping carries a LOT of baggage with it and not a little of it is triggering for me – not so much the actual action of slapping someone, but the fact that I parse it as an action filled with anger and contempt.  These are emotions that I have to keep very far away from anything we do as play.  Connecting those emotions to spanking and face slapping changes them from play to abuse for me.  Last night when we started fooling around, I had to ask him to not be quite as stern in his orders.  I want to submit to his control, but if I perceive his control being exercised using anger and humiliation it’s not play – it’s me as a child trying to not get hurt.

Last night was a tough one because not only did I have to ask for him to not be stern with me, I also climaxed without permission.  This morning I’m still a little upset about it, last night in the moment I was a few steps away from being devastated.  Right now I’m wondering if I’m cut out for this.  We have to tread such a careful path lest I become a ball of childhood PTSD and I wonder if it’s too much to ask of him.

I need to step away and call him.  This is the drop speaking and as hard as it is I need to cross my arms over my chest and let myself fall back into his waiting arms.

We recently made the transition from pretty much flirting with being 24/7 to actually doing it.  I’m not saying that we didn’t have a dynamic outside of the bedroom, because there definitely was – but it was a bit more on the role playing side of things.  Lots of stolen touches or looks, words mouthed across the room, playing with formal speech.  All of this was fun, but it was definitely starting to feel unsatisfying.

We had a series of discussion over the weekend which boiled down to the fact that we both over think things way too much.  We both worried a lot about  how the other would react to a thing, have that thing happen and afterwards confess that we both really wanted it.  In light of this and the fact that we’ve been married for 10 years, I told him to just do it.  If a line gets crossed, we’ll deal with it.  We’ll find the edges together and keep the onus of communication on both of us.

He now has much more control over my daily life.  Every evening, we go over a list of chores/tasks that he’d like to see me do the following day.  I text him as I do each one.  I call him Master in our text conversations and when I am able to throughout the day to keep him in the right mind set.  I ask for permission to do things like use the computer.  I now wear my collar every evening after we get the kids to bed and sleep in it as well.  We haven’t come upon an issue that would require punishment, but it will most likely take the form of a logical consequence/removal of some privilege.  At this point, causing disappointment is deterrent enough.

The thing is that this is a very natural progression for us – almost eerily natural.  Over the weekend we were talking about taking more control of my day and I used the phrase, “but I don’t want to make you my parent.”  I thought about it for a bit and realized just how long I’ve been saying that particular phrase in regards to his efforts to help me manage my time and in the face of our current dynamic how absurd the notion is.  Seriously, I remember saying a version of the phrase back when we were first married and I was out of work for a period.  The phrase was used to keep our distance from each other because it seemed an unhealthy dynamic to add to our relationship.  So the basis for this has been in existence for years.

Giving him the control over my day like that and giving up the bedroom control is incredibly freeing.  I was obsessing over something on Friday and asked him to restrict my computer use because of it.  When he told me that he wanted me to stay off until the evening when we would both be together, a huge sense of relief washed over me.  The other big advantage of letting go of the little things like this is that I have more mental energy available to me to make the decisions I have to make in taking care of the kids and running the house.  Knowing that after the kids are in bed and I’m his to control makes wrestling with our finances or dealing with the myriad of appointments for our kids a lot more bearable.

There’s more to blabber about, but life calls and I must get moving.

My daily task from my husband/Master is to tell him what I need.  For someone who has spent her whole life focusing on taking care of others, this is a herculean task.  First, I need to overcome all of that conditioning – both the life conditioning and the “what BDSM is supposed to be” conditioning.  When I am finally able to blurt it out, I am wracked with guilt that I am being a bother or filled with panic that I am asking for too much and he will consequently leave me.  After I’ve calmed down a bit, he’ll hug me, give me a smile and say something like, “but this is what I want, pet.  I want to know what my girl needs.”

The past week has been especially hard for me in this regard because of some realizations I had last week.  I was able to finally connect the dots and see a picture that at first flooded me with relief that this wasn’t my fault and then fill me with horror that this has been and still is going on.  There is much that can be forgiven with the sentiments They did the best they could with what they had and When you know better you do better, but neither of those sentiments can even come close to erasing the years of emotional abuse, and yes I can now call it for what it is.

I have been very fragile, the kind of fragile that leaps to absurd conclusions at the slightest prompting.  My husband is not as enthusiastic as he usually is over the meal I prepared means that he detests my cooking and is going to take the kids and find a non-crazy wife who is a better cook (when I shared this with him he assures me that if he were to leave, by no means would he be taking the children with him ).  Telling him what I need is almost impossible for me right now.  We both got a lot of enjoyment out of exploring objectification last week, but I’m feeling more of a need to be cherished and taken care of right now.  I have told him this and he, as always, is very happy to know just what I need.  It’s just hard for me to shake the notion that someone not only wants to know what I need, but wants to do it too.

So I have not made up my mind yet, if I want to lie next to him on the couch with a blindfold and ear plugs in while he hugs and pets me or if I want to sit at his feet in the beanbag chair and knit so I can lean my head against him.  Logically, I know this is equitable.  I take care of him in a million little ways every day, it’s only natural that he should want to do the same for me.  Sometimes I feel like there should be a BDSM version of Stuart Smalley.

I’m good enough,

I’m smart enough,

and dog-gone it, people want to tie me up and spank me.

Since we’ve hit a revival that includes lots of new and shiny things, we have been reveling in all things BDSM.  When we are alone, we fall into the stylized language that includes lots of Master’s and profuse thanks for the smallest of things.  Hearing him call me pet or his girl is incredibly arousing and makes me feel almost absurdly happy.  We even went so far as to change our Fet statuses to reflect our new dynamic.  When I hit submit on the box that changed my status from Collared by to Owned and Collared by I almost came right then and there – those words held that much power.  The same thing happened when I asked to add Slave of.

The Master’s and the pet’s are  not only fun because of their newness, but one slipped into regular conversation changes the tone to reflect the new levels of openness and trust we’ve created.  To get that extra little shiver when he slips in a half-whispered my girl to what he’s saying, or my mouthing Master from across the room reinforce our little secret.

Thankfully, my husband feels similarly and while it can be really hot to do, he’s just as happy to stick to our old standbys when we are just relaxing together.  There is a temptation to do this all the time, but frankly I would find it not only tedious after a while but nerve wracking as well – having to always be on like that would be exhausting and I’d be constantly worried about slipping up.

So yeah, I want to play with all our new shiny things, but at the same time I don’t want to have to go through every blog post making sure I always refer to him as Him or Master, or to be worried that I’m going to be taken to task for it.  It’s probably just as well that he’s sick today, we need an enforced night off.  Even though we know it’s needed those shiny things literally beg to be played with no matter how tired you might be.  It’ll be nice to just be husband and wife again for a night.  Our shiny playthings will still be there tomorrow.

A very, very happy girl.