Face Time, Fun, Disappointment....and a Prayer Answered?

We were finally getting a handle on our personal and professional lives after what amounted to "The Disaster Years", working our psychological butts off in therapy and finally finding what we thought was our way in our personal lives, why did things still feel "off"? 

Master A and slave g were extremely helpful with advice, but theirs was a Master/slave dynamic.  Master A was very much "old school" (as He liked to say) and there were very deep undertones of The Gorean Way in His philosophy and how their relationship was structured.  While some of this appealed to me, it did not appeal to Sir.  Sir was very direct in making it known that he was extremely uncomfortable with Gorean rules.  There was no way He was going to supervise every facet of my life.  However, he would step in and take a more active role to meet my needs (and His). Sir did not feel that micromanagement was good for either of us.   

Sir leans strongly toward sensation and psychological play rather than impact play and SM.  I definitely appreciate the sensation/psych play, but I also love impact play - the flogger, paddle, and the whip.  Sir is quite good with a flogger and the paddle, but he shies away from the cane and crop (thank goodness)  and has made it very clear that he will never use a whip on me (pout).

We read and reread the books written by well-respected authorities in the BDSM community:  Wiseman, Miller, Brame, Weiss, Warren, Rubel just to name a few.  We found some really good videos on YouTube on impact play.  Sir was getting ideas and becoming quite resourceful.  WalMart, Lowes, Home Depot, and KMart took on a whole new meaning.  (Clothes pins, spatulas, egg beaters, who knew?)  FetLife was a treasure trove and we were beginning to explore avenues in the communities in and around the Baltimore/DC area.  But we were still complete cowards about coming out in our local BDSM community.

Sir was very open to instruction and we enjoyed watching the videos and reading the books together, but for some reason, I still felt as though I was Topping from the bottom.  Rather than just letting go and having a good time, Sir was (at least I thought so) overly concerned with how I was doing during scenes.  Explaining that I would safeword if things got too rough didn't seem to be enough.  Even so, we continued to muddle through. It seemed as though Sir was becoming more comfortable with more intensity during impact play.  I was pretty sure the problem was me, but what to do about it?  When I tried to find the answers on my own, it always came back to basically the same thing:  Roll with it.  The partners set the rules and things will settle out and fall into a natural rhythm.  One thing was for sure – we certainly understood BDSM from an intellectual perspective.  How hard could it be to apply this knowledge to our lives?  Okay, back off the reading and analysis.  Roll with it and let the chips fall where they may.  Sure....

Meanwhile...in the Vanilla World...

A new professional direction meant getting out and selling my talent.  It meant face time and the opportunity presented itself in the form of the Sassy Seven Authors' Naughty Sleepover in San Antonio in February of this year.  It was a relatively small gathering and there was going to be a BDSM demonstration by a local Dom and His sub.  I had struck gold.  I'd get to meet some of the authors I had been working with and networking with in person, get my name out there as an editor, be a secret fangirl (I'd read books by all of the authors who were going to be there), and get a chance to pick the brains of some of those in the San Antonio BDSM community. 

The trip was a definite "go" and I started keeping all kinds of notes and lists of questions I wanted to ask in addition to making preparations to join up with my BFF and biz partner in San Antonio.  Biz and Par-tay all in one great weekend. 

Then the emergency brake on the car broke.  Which led to a visit to the repair shop, which then led to finding out not only were the tires on their last miles, but the rotors were warped and the brake pads were worn down so far the car probably would not pass inspection.  Oh, freakin' joy – NOT.  As if that wasn't enough, the 45K service was due.  We were planning on owning this car for a very long time (it'll be paid for in October of next year), putting any of this off was simply not an option.

I have worked miracles with money in the past.  Even in this economy, I can still sometimes make a dollar scream for mercy.  Well, not this time.  No magic was going to make the car repairs and Naughty Sleepover happen.  The Lottery was not an option – not with my luck (or, if I'm honest, appalling lack of) at gambling. 

Oh, well, life happens sometimes.  Other opportunities would come along.  Let the disappointment go; it's not that big a deal.  Take care of the car repairs.  Sir is under a lot of pressure at work; don't bother Him about something so trivial.  I'm trying to get my business through its evolution to become self-supporting which carried its own set of unique stressors.  We were both working 12 to 16 hour days and not taking down time.  There would be time for that later.  Well, sometimes later will come along faster than you think and take a chunk outta your butt before you can blink. 

The meltdown was coming.  I could feel it and tried everything I could think of to prevent it.  In two scenes on two consecutive weekends, Sir made His intent known and in both, I was able to get into my headspace to ride the wave.  This was going to be a stress reliever and playtime for both of us.  He safeworded the first scene almost as soon as it started.  The only explanation was that it wasn't working for Him and He couldn't get into it.  Okay, I get that.  Shit happens.  Cuddle time is a good thing, too. The next weekend, He safeworded the second scene essentially giving the same reason.  Imagine you've been in the desert for days and finally arrived at the oasis.  You're thirstier than you could have imagined was possible. You're handed a glass of cold, clear, wonderful water and just as you get it to your lips, it's jerked away.  Not once, but twice.  No, this wasn't a mindfuck.  Something was wrong.

Remember, this was the blind leading the blind.  Very little training, no support system in place (Master A and slave g had moved because He had been transferred overseas) and not a great frame of reference.  I'm not a screamer; I don't throw loud, crazy tantrums.  I internalize.  And that's exactly what I did then.  I shut down. 

We had broken the first two cardinal rules in BDSM:

1.  Communicate.  Neither Sir nor I were talking about what happened.

2.  The Dominant has the last word.  You betcha, but Sir wasn't talking, I was not happy about it and couldn't let it go. 

 
Oh, and surprise!  Who would've thought one could encounter subdrop if scenes didn't get past phase 1?  And guess what?  Domdrop is a very real phenomenon, too.
 

Were we ever gonna get this right?  

About a week later, I saw a post on Fet about the OWN show Our America and the episode "Shades of Kink". I didn't know it then, but it would provide the answer to a prayer.

Next:  I Never Saw It Coming...