In the early days, our BDSM adventures began with role play — the typical (awkward) stuff of fantasy play. As our appetites grew (or, perhaps more accurately, as our appetites were finally being fed), we had some difficulties… We each wanted more. More of “us,” of our relationship, in things than role play offered. But how? And when? Where?
The only thing we did know was “why” and even that was a bit mysterious… At least to me, the feminist with a cocky swagger in public life who delighted in submitting as a plaything in private.
Once I discovered the true joys of a pain slut I found myself wanting spankings & rough sex constantly. I tried to work my requests in as playful remarks, such as replying, “OK, I’ve been bad; so spank me!” Looking to dissolve into subspace, I tried to play the submissive kitten, coiled seductively at his feet or on his lap. I tried waiting on him, offering to get him things from the kitchen, giving him back rubs… Usually with some comment about being his slave, “What else do you want?” All hoping it would spark something.
When my subtleties (which were glaringly obvious) didn’t seem to work, addressed it directly.
As you may have imagined (or already gathered from the “about page“), it wasn’t that Blackie didn’t know what I was doing or why. And it wasn’t that he wasn’t interested to have more BDSM in our lives, our love, either. He was eager to have more control, to be “The Dominant” — but being dominant isn’t about doing what the sub wants, when she wants it, how she wants it.
Several conversations later, we were still unsure of just how to proceed.
Meanwhile, frustrated and aching for more, I kept up the anything-but subtle tactics and upped the ante to more than a few bratty outbursts — just begging for him to punish me. I even plaintively whined about how long it had been since he’d tied me up.
But Blackie just refused to play those games.
We still had sex, sometimes even as wild as I wanted it; but the more I pushed for bondage, pain & submission, the more he resisted. It’s a testament to his control… But it was far more frustrating than either of us liked.
Before my stupidity could really damage our relationship, we had a family situation which pulled us away from our lives. The emotional stress of the situation itself and the limited ability to hook-up for private intimate sessions of any sort really cramped our style — and when we returned home to our regular lives, we made a distinct effort to clear-up the mess we I had made of things as far as our D/s relationship went.
Having no manual for this, we tried a few things. It was trial & error testing of things we’d read or heard about from others. As with all these sorts of things, the mileage may vary, and ours did. (If you’re reading this for any sort of “advice,” your mileage will likely vary too.)
Contracts and ceremonies seemed as silly and fake to us as the now less-than satisfying role play. It seemed theatrical and lacking in that something which we both craved… That something which would not only spell out our relationship roles but feed the needs beneath it as well.
One of the more promising things we tried was using “collaring” as a signal for Blackie’s readiness to play.
Whenever he found himself in the mood, Blackie placed a leather collar on my desk chair (where I’d be sure to spot it at my daily morning email check). Just seeing the collar I’d flush. I was dizzy with desire thinking, “Today is the day!” and wondering just what he had in mind… And when & how I’d be faced with it.
The anticipation was a thrill unto itself.
But on days there was no collar I felt sad… I longed to see that collar, to have that invitation. And the way I’m wired, the better the sex I have, the more sex I want — Blackie calls it “a loop.” So after a fantastic day of BDSM play, my hormones were raging, making my disappointment at the discovery of no collar even more frustrating.
However, we did both learn something from this. Or maybe Blackie knew it and I was slow to get it. But one day I just decided to flip a mental switch.
Instead of living for collar day, instead of saving my anticipation for when I’d see the collar placed on my chair, I decided to consciously apply my anticipation to when I’d see the collar — it literally could be any day, any time!
Once I switched my thinking, to that of an optimist, I suppose, things improved.
I changed my mind-set to agree to live in the uncertainty of now knowing, of surrendering to Blackie’s whims & desires and the if & when of when he would exercise his control. In giving up that control, I lived more in the moment — delicious moments of anticipatory arousal.
We were steps closer to what we both wanted.
To Be Continued
[...] of our experiments in collaring taught me to accept that whining, begging and asking would only further delay what I wanted… [...]