Thursday, July 2, 2015
Passive Participant (part 1)
So this little world Master and I built ourselves looks pretty…vanilla…from the outside. We came out to some friends and they were floored. Like asked if they were being punk’d. And a week later, they asked if we were really into BDSM…that we weren’t pulling their legs, over and over, until Master showed them his FetLife profile. Master and I live hard, apparently secretively.
When we scene, the best scenes are the ones that are punching, kicking, screaming, crying…acts that are not sanctioned by the United Nations. We play fucking hard, physically. Our next favorites are the psychological…again, acts that are not sanctioned by the United Nations; we play with fear, with real terror. Master and I adore the verbal aspects of degradation too. I (and my cunt) think it’s fucking hot when Master is shaking me by the neck and using filthy words to describe my value. He tears me down hard. Not everyone wants what we want, not everyone builds their kinky relationship the way we have… Not everyone can do it. And there’s no judgement, because this shit is scary (awesome for us, but still scary).
Splitting my energy between our very vanilla appearing family life our adorable, highly chatty children; and Master’s expectations and our play takes a toll. Recently, I’ve been afforded a lot of leeway because of my girlie problems (hello perimenopause), the lack of energy, sleep deprivation and a string of not quite healthy emotional/brain stuff. I’ve needed his help. A lot. He doesn’t want me to feel bad because I need the help, but it would send me into a spiral of (not good) worthless feelings because I needed the help.
The whole thing has compiled (Master’s kindness and goodness, my own thought process problems, my own emotional pitfalls) into me loosing track of why we wanted a kinky relationship. I knew there was a good reason, but I couldn't remember it, and I think I was waiting for Master to fix me or just magically get better. After all, I am in an Owner/property relationship – I don't make the decisions. In that thinking I made myself not into functional property, but a passive object. I expected all the decisions to be made by him, all the fixes to be made by him, the mistakes I made taken out of my hands, all the kinky fun completely his fault or not (until I fucked it up because my [insert body part here] was hurting or seized and I hadn’t told him before).
I was full on engaged in passive participation. Master wanted something, I'd generally do as I was told. Slowly. Or stare at it. And while kids keep stay-at-home parents busy, I was letting the kids keep me busier than I really have to be. When we did get to play, Master would pull something out and start trying to feed his sadist and my masochist, but I didn't engage. I was just a physical object that was there. So Master would try to tear me down, serve up all the things we love about being kinky, and I was taking all that in without seeing the bigger picture. That we do this because we are invaluable to each other. Without taking care of myself. Which totally doesn't make a scene or playtime sexy.
Part of that was just my brain being knackered; the bigger part of that was me suddenly failing to shoulder my share of the responsibility for our relationship.
In part 2, the conclusion, I'll finish this out with personal responsibility in O/p relationships; and it is scheduled to post on Friday.