More than a Marriage

3 a.m., Sunday morning...

I woke up feeling like my heart was going to pound its way out of my chest.  Oh, good-ee, an anxiety attack. Just breathe and relax...in...out...in...out...

I finally got myself calmed down without too much of a freak-out.  It didn't take me long to figure out why I was going nuts-o.  What in the bloody hell was I about to do?  Pledge myself and take a permanent collar.  Oh, crap on a cracker.  I actually felt my heart rate start to go up again.  What was the matter with me?  I didn't even feel this way before I got married.  Wait a minute...Well, duh...

Okay, Saya, think about this.

I've been married twice.  The first time was totally FUBAR and never should have happened.  If I had my life to live over again (of course, knowing then what I know now) I would have run the other way.  Think the most gorgeous Viking raider you can imagine.  Yeah, that was my ex-, and he wouldn't know emotion if it walked up and bit him. He made Spock look like an emotional train wreck.  And that was the least of the issues.  I married him young to get out of an incredibly abusive situation and was pretty much a nutcase myself.  Got divorced, got a lot of therapy and finally got my head straightened out.

The second time...No joke – love at first sight.  So help me.  We met on a Friday night, played chess on Saturday, walked through probably 10 miles of parkland around where we live on Sunday, started watching Monday Night Football and never saw the end of the game (:::wagging eyebrows:::)  and we've been together every day since.  We married about three months after we met.  We have been through some of the most horrendous things one can imagine that would have broken up 99 percent of most couples.  These tribulations have only made us grow closer together.  We have an incredible marriage.  No, it's not all roses and candy, but we are soul mates, heart mates, and the center of each other's existence.

Yet, even so, I've always held a small part of myself back.  Between male and female parental units and the first marriage catastrophe, I have trust issues – very HUGE trust issues.  I'm the original Fox Mulder.  My motto:  Trust No One.  All the therapy in the world has not been able to eradicate that.  Good grief, Charlie Brown, my job even deals with a form of paranoia.  My primary job (oh, please gods and goddesses, may I eventually retire and devote 100 percent of my work life to editing books) is in IT security.  See what I mean?

Now, marriage has an escape clause; it's called divorce.  Been there, done that.  It was not pretty, but I survived.  In fact, a marriage has a larger probability to fail than succeed.  Another little ditty:  People actually plan for marriage failure – can we say prenup?  And, if the marriage fails, it isn't like the parties are going to be tarred, feathered and run outta town. 

Permanent collaring?  That's a whole 'nother situation, Skippy.   

Pledging oneself in a permanently collared relationship entails complete, total, unreserved, absolute honesty and trust, in addition to completely open, cannot-hide-anything communication.  There are no secrets, no half-truths, no lies by omission, no prevarication.  This is straight-up, no bullshit time, campers.  And if one is uncollared after giving and receiving a permanent collar, there are some parts of the Community that WILL ostracize the parties or the party who request release.  A permanent collar is still taken seriously in the BDSM community. I freely admit that I am very old school about the permanent collar. 

Here I sat at 3 a.m. with my stomach in knots.  I was about to make one of the biggest commitments in my life – second only to giving birth.  I was going to pledge myself heart, mind, body and, yes, soul, to the man lying next to me for the rest of my natural life.  I was about to hand over a substantial part of myself, my complete trust and even a large part of my independence, to one individual. If this didn't work out, there would be very major repercussions to us both. Repercussions not just within the community;  I knew if Sir uncollared me, it could, and probably would, destroy me.

Oh, and let's not forget, this pledge (witnessed by two very highly respected members in the Community no less) would entail literally letting go of any reservations I ever had about a relationship with another person.  There were no do-overs and no take-backs here. 

So, this is what "cold feet" feels like...

Okay, self, let's break this down.   

Look at what the two of us have been through in the last twenty years.  Death.  Betrayal. Sickness. Experienced the true underbelly of humanity through no fault of our own.  Bankruptcy.  Being on the brink - twice.  Those things all line the bottom of the pit.  Then, there are grandchildren, an amazing child, professional success, coming back from the brink - twice, a solid marriage, the hard-won achievement of some measure of sanity and contentment and, most of all, the love we have for each other.  This is the light that keeps us warm and the foundation on which we live our lives.  If we've already weathered just about every major catastrophe life can throw at us and come out stronger than before, then we must have a pretty solid relationship. 

As independent as I have been for my entire life, was I really ready and willing to place my life totally into someone else's hands? 

Light. Bulb.  (Oh, wait, maybe that's the sun coming up.  Naaahhhhhh, Light Bulb of Awareness and the sun coming up...)

Our relationship, married or not, collared or not, is what WE make it.  My submission is MY choice.  Sir's acceptance is HIS choice.  It's not like we don't understand what these choices entail, both consequences and benefits. 

Maybe this was exactly what has been missing.  Maybe this is exactly what we both need to feel complete. 

It really is just before sunrise and the sky is lightening up quite a bit.  I decide to take a necessary little trip and, when I very carefully get back into bed, I see Sir looking at me.  (God, He is incredibly sexy when He first wakes up!)

Sir:  Having second thoughts?

Yeah, a few.

He snuggles me down against him and wraps me in His wonderful arms. 

Sir:  I've had a couple, too, but we'll work through all of this.

Yeah, I know.  But, there's no out-clause here.

Sir:  I know that and I know you know that.  We’ve been through more in the time we've been together than most married couples go through in fifty years.  If that hasn't broken us up, nothing will.  This'll work because we'll make it work. 

Maybe it was what he said.  Maybe it was how he said it.  Maybe it was all of that and the way he held me.  Whatever it was suddenly wasn't all that important.  What was important was that I knew without any doubt we were doing the right thing – for us.  And we would make it work – our way. If He was gonna jump into the deep end of the pool then, by god, I was gonna jump right along with Him.

On Sunday morning, April 21^st at 9:30, under a crystal blue sky and white puffy clouds, with the breeze through the trees and chirping birds supplying the background music, I came to Sir on my knees to offer Him my Submission and Service, heart, mind, body and soul to hold until my last breath.  In exchange, His gift to me would be undying love, guidance, protection, honesty and trust until His last breath. In twenty years, it was only the second time I had ever seen him shed a tear.   

On my wedding day, I felt love, yes, but there was a part of me that was unsure.  On my collaring day, I felt something much deeper than love, and I was sure of what I was doing, why, and that it was absolutely the right thing.  There was no going back and that was okay. In fact, it was more than okay. 

A journey ten years in the making was finally about to begin in earnest.

Top:  The play collar in the House Sayanov colors.

Bottom:  My permanent collar.  When in very vanilla situations, the medallion can be turned to rest under my shirt collar at the back of my neck so that only the chain is visible.  

 

Aftercare

Mistress:  It's not your fault.  Shhh...shhhh...It's not your fault.

Her voice brings me back and the tears fall.  I don't even try to control them because I know control isn't possible.  She holds me tight and her voice is soothing, becoming a focus for my messed up mind. 

I'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorryi'msorry...I'm so sorry, Mistress...

Mistress:  Shhh...it's not your fault.  You have nothing to apologize for.   Shhhhh....

I feel something soft surround me and then what I know are Sir's arms as I am helped to my feet. A part of me is sharply aware of what is going on around me and another part is confused and extremely upset.  The whirlwind in my head is slowing such that I can now put two thoughts together.  Mistress and Sir are talking as I'm being guided elsewhere. 

Why do they keep telling me it's not my fault?

I am kneeling and holding a very soft blanket.  I see Sir's feet in front of me, His shoes almost touching my knees.  Sir's hand is resting on my head.  Mistress is also close by.

Mistress:  Slave saya, keep your eyes down and tell me what you're feeling right this minute.

Confusion. Anger. Sorrow. Regret. Anger. Why now?

Sir strokes my cheek but does not speak.

Mistress:  You have experienced a flashback caused by body memory.  Do you understand body memory?

Yes, Mistress. 

(When traumatized, if the trauma is not processed completely, the body and subconscious mind remember every movement and feeling from the trauma even though the conscious mind may have locked it away.  The person thinks everything has been neatly resolved, but this is not always the case.  If not thoroughly processed, the mind, in its own devious way, will process it eventually, whether we want it to or not.  This is the flashback - the mind's way of processing trauma.  In the flashback, the person relives every horrible moment of the trauma again, and again, and again, until the mind is satisfied that adequate processing has been completed.)

Sir continues to stroke my cheek.  I lean into His hand.

Mistress:  You understand that you have no control over where your mind goes?

Yes, Mistress, I do.

Mistress:  Then, you understand that this was not your fault.  Do you also understand that what happened all those years ago was not your fault, either?

Yes, Mistress, I understand both things.  I thought I had reconciled all of this in therapy many years ago.  I didn't even imagine...

Mistress:  No, slave saya.  It wasn't your fault then and it isn't now.  No matter how carefully we plan, there is always the possibility that something will go sideways. This is why we take precautions and have safety rules in place.  When you are in your Dom's care, He is responsible for seeing to it that you both are safe or aware of the risks and take proactive measures to keep things under control.  You take a risk every time you get out of bed in the morning.  This really isn't any different. 

Mistress touches my other cheek.

Mistress:  How do you feel now, Saya?

The use of my name without the attribution "slave"  tells me the scene is over.  

I feel relieved, free, empty, Mistress.

Mistress:  You did very well tonight, for me and for Sir.  We are both very proud of you. 

Sir:  Yes, Saya.  You are my very good girl, my wife.  You're mine, and I'm very proud of you.

I feel the tears again.  I feel the warmth of the blanket on my skin.  I also feel a sense of pride in Their praise.  And, most of all, I feel the intense warmth of my Sir's love for me. 

The tears fall and there is silence for a time.  I realize that I've consumed an entire bottle of water when Sir helps me rise. Mistress is no longer in the room.

Sir:  Come on, babe.  We need to get you upstairs and in bed.  I'll need to get some ointment on those bruises.  Your back and ass are a beautiful red with some nice bruises for extra color.

I have been marked by Mistress in Service to Sir.  Yes, I am definitely proud of myself.  Those marks are like a badge of honor. 

The rest will work itself out on its own.

***

The bed was a godsend and the arnica another blessing.  I was riding the endorphins and adrenalin, and coming down very gently.  Sir said we wouldn't talk about the scene for a while.  He wanted to give me time to process everything.  We would talk about it, yes, just not right then.  The one thing He wanted me to understand was that the past was over and done with.  Memories could not be controlled, but I should just let them roll over me and know that I was safe with Him.  Our life was here and now.

What happened next came completely out of the blue.  

Sir presented me with a long, narrow box and asked me to open it.  I did so and inside was a beautiful sterling silver chain.  Secured to one of the links was a silver medallion about the size of a quarter.  It was engraved on one side: 

I belong to Sir

And on the other side:

He sets me free

I was speechless.

Sir:  This will be your day collar.  If you agree to wear my permanent collar and honor me with your submission, I would like to present this to you in front of witnesses before we leave tomorrow.  Master has agreed to officiate. 

I remember in that moment I thought I was living a dream.  This just didn't happen in real life.  Did it?  I will never forget what Sir said next.

Sir:  You had enough faith in me that you kept on for all this time.  I really do understand what you've been trying to tell me and teach me, Saya.  This is so much more than a marriage and I want this with you, but only you can make this decision. 

It was what I had always wanted with someone and I finally found it with Sir.  The dream was becoming reality – all I had to do was reach out and accept it.  Yes, I had been trying to guide Sir, even in my feeble, misguided way.  Yes, I had faith that He would eventually come into His own.  This was His way of showing me that He had enough faith in me to continue the journey.  I already loved this man with all my heart and soul.  How could I possibly love Him more?

When two people marry, somewhere inside they always hold a piece of themselves back.  Usually, no one ever gives every fiber of their being to another.  Not so here.  When a Dom permanently collars the submissive or the Master permanently collars the slave, this is an all or nothing proposition.  There are no half measures in this dynamic.  One person has decided to give everything of who they are to another and the person who receives that gift can only do so with their whole heart, mind, body and soul. 

The gift of submission is the ultimate gift the submissive or slave gives the Dom/me or Master/Mistress.

And in receiving that gift, the Dom/me, Master/Mistress gives the submissive/slave the gift of protection and a love like no other. 

It truly is an equal exchange among true equals. 

That was why I knelt before Sir and told Him that it would be MY honor to accept His permanent collar.

Next:  More than a marriage...

Even the Best Laid Plans

Wearing that collar put my head into a totally different place.  In all honesty, it was the first time I had ever felt truly submissive to Sir.  And it was a feeling I would not trade for all the money in the world.  Yes, I was over the moon and then some.

When one is a guest at LaDomaine Esemar, Master, Mistress and the slaves are there 24/7.  If one is there for training/mentoring/guidance, one is under the constant observation of Master and Mistress.  This gives Them the chance to see the relationship dynamic in just about every situation one would encounter in day-to-day life.  As a result, They can pinpoint issues (good and bad) with laser-like accuracy. 

In our case, it was working like a charm.  I was finally able to submit totally and completely to Sir without worrying about anything other than serving Him.  Master and Mistress were working to help us both fine tune our D/s relationship and to help Sir understand some of my leanings into the slave dynamic.  They were able to observe, correct and teach all in one seamless milieu. 

But it wasn't until I received the collar that I really understood what was, for me, true submission in its purest form. 

There was also a subtle change (again) in Sir.  He was coming into His own. 

The rest of the afternoon was spent just relaxing and talking about everything under the sun.  I asked for and received permission to talk with the two slaves in residence that weekend.  I had noticed a sense of calm, peace, even contentment about them.  I also wanted to find out if some of the feelings I was having were common to the headspace or out of the ordinary. 

Yes, submission is unique to each and every individual, but there are some things that seem to run along a common thread in those submissives I have talked with before LaD and after our return.

Here are some observations:

• Submission is in no way suppression or subjugation.
• Yes, there is an incredible freedom in total submission.
• The sense of peace and contentment that comes with Service is not unique.
• There are not hard and fast rules.  The dynamic and degree are set by the participants in the relationship.
• To relinquish control, one must first be in control.  This is about knowing oneself.

Does this mean these points are true across the board?  No.  They are true for Sir and for me and within our dynamic.  Most of all, though, to be formally taken in hand by Sir and to wear the symbol of His possession was the most incredible feeling I have ever experienced.  Only holding my children for the first time came close.  I go back and read those words and they are so inadequate.  Language and its limitations again... My mind was finally beginning to accept that we were truly on the right path in our lives.  At last...

***

The negotiations were done, the plans for the scene in place.  Another incredible dinner was finished.  (The glazed pears were to die for – another recipe I have got to get for my collection.)  And we had solved all of the world's problems over good food, excellent wine and delicious coffee.  It was time to adjourn to the Dungeon.

Before going down this time, I took Sir aside.  I think I wanted to reassure myself more than Him.  I knew this would be very intense for Him.  We were both about to see just how far my limits could be pushed.  Every possible contingency had been discussed, dissected and planned for – or so we thought.  One thing about BDSM one will learn quickly is that one should always expect the unexpected...

Several years ago, under the hands of Master A, I had experienced a cathartic whipping.  It was an absolutely incredible experience.  I had suffered a traumatic experience that I had not processed and the cathartic whipping unlocked a number of doors I had been unable to open for a whole lot of reasons.  From an emotional/trauma standpoint, I thought I had pretty much taken care of things then.   

The mind can be a very tricky thing.

What follows is what I remember. 

The lights are on in the Dungeon.  Mistress, Sir, a slave and I enter the designated playspace.  I take my place in one corner and assume the standing ready position to remain until directed otherwise.  Slave is hanging chains from the beam above which have cuffs on either end.  I hear Mistress and Sir speaking but cannot understand what they are saying.  Mistress is also directing Slave in exactly how She wants the chains hung.  As I hear the music of the links of the moving chains, my mind begins to enter the zone.  I know this scene is going to be intense – very intense.   

I must prepare myself.   

While Mistress, Sir and Slave are setting up, I am allowed to look around and get my bearings.  One part of me is definitely taking in what is going on around me, but there is another part that is beginning to even out my breathing and beginning to run the chant in my mind that will take me to a calming place and quiet my thoughts.  I begin to focus on Mistress' voice so that I can tune out everything else.  I am beginning to experience a heightened awareness, but it is focused entirely on Mistress. 

Mistress approaches me and stands in front of me.  This is the last time I will look Her directly in the eye until after the scene is over.  Her gaze is intense and I find it very hard to maintain eye contact. I remember the descriptions some have attributed to Dominants.  It just may be true that they can see into your soul.  I lower my eyes and she touches my cheek.

Mistress:  Eyes down.  Good girl.  Come over and stand before your Sir.

Yes, Mistress.  I comply. 

Sir:  Saya, eyes on me. 

This is the signal that the scene has now begun.  My mind sinks deeper, my only desire to serve and obey.

Sir:  Do you have any questions before we begin?

No, Sir.

Sir:  What are your safewords?

Red to halt the scene.  Yellow if there is a problem or concern.  Green to show all is well.

Sir:  Good girl.  You understand that Mistress will be conducting the scene.  Do you trust Her without reservation?  Do you give your consent?

I do, Sir.  I give my consent, and I understand.

Sir:  You have your safeword and cautionword.  Use them if you need to.

There is a subtle shift and Mistress is now in complete control.

Mistress:  Eyes down, slave saya.  You will not speak further unless you are answering a direct question or you need to use your safewords.  Do you understand?

Yes, Mistress.  I understand.

Mistress:  In addition to your safewords, you may ask for mercy on any portion of your body by saying the following:  Mistress, this slave asks for mercy on (whatever body part).  Do you understand?

Yes, Mistress.  I understand.

Mistress:  Slave, strip.

As I comply, I think to myself that I now understand the meaning of the phrase "the atmosphere was charged, almost electric".  Yes, it is that and more.  I feel the first release of dopamine and adrenalin.  My mind is focused solely on Mistress now.  I am directed to my right and stand in front of a mirror.  Mistress lifts my left arm and secures my left wrist into the lined leather cuffs hanging from the chains overhead.  My eyes close and I feel her lift my right arm and secure my right wrist in the cuff.  I begin to tremble.  After securing my wrists in the cuffs, I feel the bars for handholds and grip them as though my life depends on it. The sensation of anticipation is overwhelming and those handholds are my anchor.

Mistress:  I am now going to blindfold you, slave.  You may notice that your already heightened senses will become even more acute. 

The blindfold is secured and I am now in total darkness.  For what seems like several moments, there is no sound at all in the room.  It feels like every cell in my body is awake and aware.  There are now muted sounds behind me.  Suddenly, literally out of nowhere is the sound to my left of implements being placed on a wooden surface.  Yes, there was a table there. 

Oh, sweet Christ, what is She going to use?

The trembling is now outright shaking.  I remain absolutely still – or as still as possible. 

Mistress touches my cheek with one hand and I feel her other hand stroke down my spine.  It is oddly soothing and stimulating at the same time. 

Mistress:  Calm, slave.  Breathe...What color, slave?

Green, Mistress.

Her voice touches something very deep and I feel myself begin to breathe in time with Her.  Yes, it is calming me. 

Just as I think I'm getting a handle on myself I feel her lips against my left ear.

Mistress:  Slave, I'm going to do things to you tonight that you have never even imagined.  Are you ready to begin?

Yes, Mistress.  Thank You.

I feel her face at my neck and she inhales deeply.  I know she is taking my scent.  She will do this several times throughout the scene.  Scent is a gauge.  She touches me and I feel her tongue on my cheek.  She is tasting my skin.  Another gauge.  I feel her hands.  Touch.  Another gauge.  Sight, sound, touch, taste, smell.  The link begins to establish itself. 

Mistress:  You have your safewords and caution words and instructions for mercy.  One more time, do you consent?

Yes, Mistress, I consent.

Mistress:  Then, let us begin.

I feel her step back.  Even the air doesn't move now except at Her command.  I know this.

I hear the first sounds as the falls of the flogger move through the air and create their own song.  My mind embraces the sound and then the feel as the air moves against my back.  There is a sense of something I cannot describe – the only words that come close are 'eager anticipation'.  I want to feel the fingers of the flogger against my skin.  I need to feel its caress...

My need is met and a wish granted. 

What ensues is hot, cold, exciting, painful, exquisite, sensual, breath-taking, ethereal, mind-bending and a thousand other things I will probably never be able to describe.  Just as I had thought.  It was approaching epic.

At some point, I am unchained, but not allowed release.  Oh, dear god, the need is almost painful.  I am moved to another area.  Still blindfolded, I don't know where I am.  My body literally feels like it's singing. 

The first blow brings me roughly back from the edge and I'm definitely back in the real world.  A paddle?  A belt?  A cane?  A crop?  I don't know and, oddly, I really don't care.  Sensations are melding and I'm feeling my mind go off in another direction, completely different than before.  I'm beginning to feel the sexual heat again, but there is something at the edge. 

That something is not pleasant.  It begins as a feeling of fear, yes, fear deep inside.  Something is taking shape in my mind.  I'm literally feeling myself split into two people. 

Oh, dear god, please, not now, please not now.  No, please not now.

The 14-year-old girl is feeling immense anger, unlike anything she has ever felt before.  If the bitch strikes her again, she will rip the belt from her hands and strangle the bitch with it.  The blows fall again, and again, and again.  The woman tries to understand what is happening, and feels the girl reach out and feels the end of the belt snap around her wrist as she grabs it from the hand of her tormenter.  The woman knows this is a memory, but she cannot stop the progression.  She hears the distant voice.  Mistress.  She tries to grab hold and pull herself back but the girl's anger overwhelms the woman.  There are two distinct things taking place and the woman is becoming frightened.  If it doesn't stop, the anger will overtake her again and she knows someone will get hurt. 

Oh, please god, no more, not that.  Not now, please not now.

The girl yells at her tormenter and the woman hears her own voice: 

MISTRESS, HELP ME! I'M TRIGGERING!

The floodgates are now open.  A count.  A voice.  Strong arms.  Light.  Warmth.  The voice again, soothing, the anchor, the feel of the arms and my eyes open and I am immediately aware of the Dungeon, Mistress has me held tightly as I come back from the nightmare. 

The one thing we hadn't planned for, that I had never even imagined would happen.  My mind went to a place I thought I had purged a long, long time ago.  Mistress is my anchor in the raging wind. 

Next:  Aftercare

Right of Passage

We never made it for the walk, but we did talk – a lot.  For Sir, it was a matter of going against a lifetime of teaching about how men should treat women.  For me, it was a feeling that I was constantly topping from the bottom.  Sir wasn't frightened, per se, about spankings and flogging.  He definitely likes the sensation play.  And He definitely has a knack with a mindfuck.  But when it came to the intensity I wanted, that was where He became very unsure of himself – and me.  When we scened, I was wrapped up in my own mental world, so I really wasn't entirely sure of my physical manifestations.  I could describe things in general, but really never thought about my outward physical reactions much at all.  I was the only person Sir had ever tried any of this with, so He didn't even have a broad knowledge base on which to draw.  Reference books were great, but nothing beats practical experience.  Instructional videos are good, too, but again, practical experience was lacking here. 

We would be sessioning with Mistress that evening and I had an idea.  If Mistress agreed, how would Sir feel about being an observer again if Mistress pushed the envelope with me?  And while observing, it would be important for Sir to watch my body language, physical responses, even take notes.  I explained to Him that if the scene was intense enough, I might actually hit subspace and how that might appear to Him.  I also stressed that I absolutely trusted Mistress' experience.  He was extremely concerned about the possibility of me getting into subspace and being unable to safeword.  I told him on no uncertain terms there was no way Mistress would go too far.  She would know exactly what was happening at all times and if I couldn't safeword, She would safeword the scene.  This was part of a Domme's responsibility to the sub. 

It was clear to me, and, I think, becoming clear to Sir, that He needed validation and reassurance.  Even though we had been floundering around all this time, He was still very unsure about pushing limits.  It was about gaining confidence with his skill level, confidence within Himself, and yes, trust in me.  I knew without a shred of doubt that He could do this.  I don't know how I knew, I just did.  If this man could sling a 36-inch chainsaw with grace and ease (he used to be a logger and I've seen the pictures), then he could surely throw a flogger, swing a paddle, and maybe even master the whip (yes, yes, YES).  I also didn't miss the fact that Master and Mistress saw the same attributes in Sir that I did. And Sir had made it clear that He wanted to do this.  This wasn't being done just to please me, although pleasing me was a major factor.  He was doing it for Himself as well.  That was enough for me.

We also talked many times about my feeling that I was constantly topping from the bottom.  It was no secret that did not sit well with me.  In fact, it caused me a great deal of frustration, anxiety, sadness, and gave me a feeling of insecurity.  It just didn't feel "right" to me.  This wasn't business.  This was our life together.  Didn't we promise each other that we were going to stop worrying about what everyone else thought was right and be true to ourselves?  To me, it simply wasn't "right" to constantly have to take the lead in our life.  I also knew He resented it – and I told him just that, and went into minute detail about how I had come to that conclusion.  Did He understand now?  Was this all making sense to Him?

I saw the wheels turning, smelled the burning bearings.  Okay, let the man's mind work and shut up, woman.  You planted the seeds, now sit back and see what grows.  It didn't take long.  I think it must've been maybe a half-hour or so.  I'm not sure because I think I dozed for a bit.  What He said next sort of blew my mind. 

Sir explained that men today are raised and indoctrinated that a woman is their absolute equal and, for the most part, that is true.  But there are differences, no matter what the Women's Movement would like us to believe.  When a man finds the woman he wants to spend the rest of his life with, the woman he wants to bear his children, there is something deep inside that will not allow itself to be denied, suppressed or ignored.  This is the instinct to protect and provide.  Yes, a woman can do the same, but in men this is a drive, a necessity, as vital and necessary as breathing.  Just as my need to serve him is a defining part of who and what I am, so does his need to protect and provide define who and what he is.  In order to protect and provide, control of circumstance is necessary.  But men have been taught directly and indirectly that taking control of their families and households is wrong.  He said some of my own words back to me:

In any group within the animal kingdom, there are leaders and followers.  Look at primates, lions, canines, geese even.  One is always looked upon as the leader.  Humans really aren't any different.  The BDSM community recognizes this.  The Community also recognizes that the gender of the leader means nothing.  The family members understand that each one has a say in the decision-making process, but someone ultimately has to stand up and actually MAKE that decision and deal with what comes of the decision.  And when the decision is made, that's it.  Discussion over.  Period.  End of sentence. Subject closed.

Sir recognized that the paradigm was shifting and He made it clear that He had no problem with that.  And then the sixty-four thousand dollar question:  Was I willing to step aside, let go, and let Him jump into the deep end of the pool?  Did I understand that not only did He know how to swim, He was really quite good at it?  Yes. I. Do, Sir.  And I will, Sir, as you wish.  All He did was smile.

***

We didn't realize it but nearly two and a half hours had passed.  There was a knock on the door and we were told that the masseur had arrived.  He was a little early because he had brought the things Sir requested and would we like to take a look at them. 

Sir got out to the main room before I did and, before I got to the main room, Sir was getting His massage.  The masseur, Shadow, was a leather Master.  If it could be created in leather, He could do it.  Shadow brought every kind of flogger I could have imagined.  And whips, belts, paddles, crops, oh my!  Somehow I managed to control myself and not drool, but I have to say, it wasn't easy.  Everything was beautiful.  What happened next felt a little bizarre...

Mistress was looking over Shadow's implements and I could just see the devious things going on in Her head as She handled the various implements and, yes, caressed the whips.  The butterflies in my stomach were doing a line dance while I watched Her.  We talked while looking things over and I finally got up the nerve to approach Her about the scene that would take place later that evening and what Sir and I had discussed.  She was open to the idea (was that actually a gleam I saw in her eye, or the reflection from the bay window?), but She would talk with Sir first.  Those line-dancing butterflies just turned into a full-blown rave.  Yeah, here we sat drinking tea while examining various impact play tools talking about getting beaten to the point of being darn near insensate.  And I was as excited as a 10-year-old kid who had been given an all-access pass to Disney World. 

Welcome to the world of BDSM and scene negotiation – with a pro-Domme who just happens to be a recognized Master Sadist.  Um, yeah, okay then.  The world just tilted from the strange into the twisted weird category. 

About this time, Sir came out from His massage looking more relaxed that I could remember for Him in quite some time.  I did the mental fist pump (the massage was a little extra something I threw into the plans as a little surprise for Him).  This was not only a learning situation, it was a mini-vaca, too.  Yep, now it was my turn.  Woo-Hoo!  Ninety minutes of Nirvana in the afternoon followed by two hours of oh-my-god-I-don't-know-what's-coming-but-it's-gonna-be-epic that evening.  I could hear Austin Powers in my head, "Yeah, baby!"

I came back up from my massage feeling like a million bucks and then some.  Shadow's fingers are pure magic.  No wonder He can work leather so well. 

Before I went to put myself back to some semblance of together, I watched Mistress and Sir testing the floggers and paddles, and the world tilted just a little more.  Master, Mistress, Sir and Shadow were going over the attributes of each implement and those raving butterflies took off again.  "Well, are you looking to give Saya just a nice warm feeling, or do you plan to take her over the edge? And, by the way, this makes a great pussy flogger..."

Um, yeah, with that, I decided it was time to make a temporary exit. 

I wasn't gone that long, but when I came back into the main room, there had been a definite shift of some kind.  I figured Master, Mistress and Sir had talked about the scene for later that evening.  Okay, no biggie.  They'd tell me if I needed to know.  I went to sit down on the sofa and Sir motioned for me to come over to where He was standing.  When I got there, he turned me around so my back was to him.  I wrote this in my journal so that I wouldn't forget what happened next.

Sir:  I have something for you.  Close your eyes.

I did so. There wasn't a sound in the room.  (I still don't know why I even thought about that at the time.)

I felt something soft and warm around my neck and reached up to try and touch it.  Sir ordered me to keep my hands at my sides.  I felt warmth begin to blossom from somewhere in my chest and spread out through my entire body. 

Oh, dear god, it was a collar.  It. Was. A. Collar.  A. C-O-L-L-A-R. 

Sir:  Open your eyes but do not touch your neck and go look in the mirror.

Oh, I managed to put one foot in front of the other, but don't ask me how because all I wanted to do was go down on my knees.  When I got to the mirror, I almost didn't recognize the woman looking back at me.  She looked stunned, overwhelmed, happy, curious, and she glowed.  I don't blush very often, but I sure did then. 

It was a stunning, beautiful, handmade black leather collar, studded with blood-red crystals, lined in the softest red felt, with a beautiful steel ring front and center.  This was no play collar.  This was no training collar.  This carried some very serious meaning.  That fact was not lost on me.

I went back out to the main room.  There were other people there, but the only person who registered was Sir.

Sir:  I thought it was time.  Will you wear it?  It's our House colors.  This way there will never be any question of who you belong to.

Master:  She'll be wearing your House colors even when she's wearing nothing else.

Mistress:  It's a beautiful collar.  It's perfect for her.

Sir:  Saya, do you like it?  Will you wear it?

I could not find my voice.  All I could do was nod like a bobble head doll. 

I wear what looks like two wedding rings.  One is an actual wedding ring, but the other is the only outward symbol that Sir had Collared me seven years ago.  I had always wanted a collar, something that would remind me of my service to Him. 

When my bobble head finally stopped moving, he kissed me and then whispered to me.

Sir:  I didn't fully understand before, but I do now.  I get it, Saya.  You'll never have to feel as though you are topping from the bottom.  I promise you.

I thought my heart was going to burst.  It couldn't possibly get better, right?  Wrong.  It did get better...

Next:  Even the best laid plans...

Revelation(s)

I finally got back to sleep even with all those questions whirling around in my head.  Saturday morning dawned clear and absolutely gorgeous on the mountain.  Sunshine, coffee, the best French toast I could ever remember having (I have got to get that recipe), fresh fruit and great conversation.  Yeah, it was gonna be a good day. 

I was journaling while on this trip because I knew there would be a lot of information to sort out later.  While Sir and Mistress and Master were going back and forth about techniques, types of toys and implements, ideas for pervertibles and (now my ears picked up) pushing limits, I was trying to remember the questions I'd asked myself the night before.  Master asked me what I was doing and I gave Him the rundown on my middle of the night musings.  This turned into a conversation on everything from porn to the women's movement.  (More posts for future dates; some of Master's observations were profound and extremely insightful.  Yes, I took notes, notes and more notes.)

In the meantime, I picked up on the discussion Mistress and Sir were having about recognizing physical signs in a sub during a scene.  Apparently, Master also now had more than half an ear tuned as well.  Sir had several sheets from a notepad in front of Him and He was asking Mistress several questions. (I wasn't the only one who'd been squirreling away notes...)

Everyone has probably had those moments in their lives when the light bulb goes off and it turns out it's a huge spotlight.  I'm talking about a major revelation, the answer to a question or problem that has been bugging them and finally sorts itself out.  And these moments come seemingly out of nowhere and smack you upside the head.  Well, this was about to be one of those.  For me it was one of those "there-is-no-way-you-could-make-this-shit-up" moments.

Remember the "real men don't hit women" musing?  It didn't take me long to pick up that this was exactly what Sir was talking about with Mistress.  The short version:  Sir was extremely concerned about hurting me and, while He wanted very much to meet my needs and desires, going much beyond a nice thuddy flogging or a butt-warming spanking was giving Him some serious angst.  Sensation play was never a problem, but impact play was something in a whole 'nother realm. 

This discussion led to dissecting the scene from the previous evening in minute detail that included a whole long list of physical manifestations that were observed and the mental evolutions as the scene progressed.  There was a long discussion about the fine line between pain and pleasure, what went on in the sub's head generally and in my head specifically.  There were a hundred points Sir and I had discussed many, many times over the last ten years and here we sat with two of the most experienced, well-respected individuals in the BDSM community having the same discussion.  Only this time, the result was a lot different.  Master and Mistress managed to explain to Sir perfectly what I had been trying in my misguided way to explain almost since the day I came out.  I always went at it from the perspective of my medical training.  Joe "Just the Facts" Friday would have been proud.  Yeah, technically I had it right, but how do you explain the emotional aspects to someone when you don't have that much experience in the emotional aspects.  Yeah, I can tell you exactly how a woman gives birth, but if I've never had a child, how the hell can I explain what she's feeling the first time she sees her little passenger in the flesh?  I can tell you how I felt when I caught that little passenger and realized he/she was healthy and perfectly formed, but that was not MY child.  Yeah, I was happy for mom and dad, and watching them interact with the new arrival was very touching.  But that wasn't MY child.  So, yeah, I could explain the physiology behind heavy impact play, but I'd never been taken up to or even close to my limits because Sir was afraid that he would "hurt" me. 

The night prior, Mistress had taken me farther than Sir had in the past and I definitely got a major endorphin/adrenalin/dopamine/serotonin high off the experience.  Shoot, I was still feelin' mighty good the next morning.  Throughout this conversation, I was struck by this feeling that it was amazing how Master and Mistress managed to climb into both our heads and answer questions before we even asked.  Twilight Zone moments were piling one on top of the other.  They were able to offer Sir the reassurance that I couldn't, the instruction that I couldn't because I could not think like a BDSM Dom/Master, answer questions for Sir that I couldn't because I simply didn't have the answers.  How do you describe a heart transplant to someone who doesn't understand the layout of the human body, never mind having never seen a heart transplant?  Yeah, that was exactly where I had been all these years.  This was a conversation between equals, individuals who thought alike and were working together to achieve the same result. 

And now, I'll tell you a little secret.  Watching the interchange between these three individuals was H-O-T.  Yeah, THAT kind of H-O-T.  And don't think for a single second Sir didn't pick up on my reaction.  It was interesting (and I suspect not just coincidental) that Master went to make some more coffee and Mistress excused herself on the premise that She was going to get some reference book for Sir.  When we were left alone in the room – albeit for just a few minutes – Sir turned and gave me The Look.

If you've ever read erotic romances with a BDSM twist, you've read passages where the male Dom/Master looks at the female sub with The Look.  It's a combination of white heat, pure, undiluted sexual want, passionate desire, and a promise of things to come.  Yep, The Look.  So, the Master/Dom gives His sub The Look and she feels her insides turn into a puddle of goo.  Oh, and the heat?  That was no hot flash, baby.  Nope.  God's honest truth – you could have cut the sexual tension in that room right then with a sword or a chainsaw.

Mistress did come back with a book and some pages she'd copied and handed them to Sir who mentioned that He needed to get his reading glasses which were sitting on the dresser in our room.  (Stick with me here.  This really is germane, I promise.)  I put my hand on his arm as I was getting up from the chair. 

Me:      I'll get them, Sir.  They're on the dresser.

Sir:       No, that's all right.  I'll get them.

Me:      Please, Sir.  Let me do this.

Sir:       Saya, I can get them.  Enjoy your coffee.

Mistress to Sir:  Wait.  Let her do this for you.

Sir was a little taken aback by this.

Sir to Mistress:  She doesn't have to wait on me. She isn't my servant.

Me:      I know I'm not your servant, babe.  Don't you understand that I want to do this?  This is what makes me happy.  This is a service I can do for you.  Do you remember the last scene in "Taming of the Shrew"?

Sir:       (Thinking)  Um, not really.

Me:      Kate is lecturing the other wives about caring for their husbands.  "...place your hands below your husband's foot:   In token of which duty, if he please, my hand is ready; may it do him ease."

In the pause that followed, I could have sworn the room got brighter.  The light bulb went off like sunshine over my head.  Hyperbole?  No way.  This was another "you-can't-make-this-shit-up" moment that, for me, was unique.  I got it and so did Sir.

Mistress:          Sir, this isn't just a favor she's doing for you.  This is a need...

Me:      Like breathing.  I want this.  I need this.  It. Is. Who. I. Am.

And I got up from the chair to go and get His glasses.  I didn't wait for permission.  I had to get out of the room or I would have lost it right there. It was profound for me.  The incident happened at just the exact right moment when Sir was in a place to finally understand why my head worked the way it does.  This morning was turning into a whole slew of those "happening at the exactly right moment" incidents.

I had to take a minute or two to pull myself back together.  Okay, more than just a minute or two.  I was gone closer to what felt like maybe 15 minutes.  When I came back in the room, Master, Mistress and Sir were discussing something about the massage later in the day and that the leather Master was going to bring some floggers and other leather goods by for Sir to look at.  There was also something about an "order".  Mental fist pump.  Maybe Sir was going to get another flogger.  And I soooo wanted to look at leather corsets. 

When Sir realized I was back in the room, as I handed Him His reading glasses, He announced He wanted me to take a walk with Him.  No question – we needed to talk.  We’d been given a lot to think about.

Next:  Later that same day...