In Which I Am Taken By Surprise . . . .

One of the many, many things I like about my mind and how it works is that once I think I have everything in check, it throws new and exciting things out at me.  Never a dull moment!  Okay, it can get frustrating or tiring now and then, but it also means I don’t really understand what it’s like to be bored.

Yesterday, I went down to see Sir.  Since my Angst!  Sturm und Drang! posts, we’ve talked a lot about things bothering me, and why, and how I can be happier.  The short version is, since we can talk about these more difficult less fun things like adults are supposedly able to, I have had a safe place to work out what exactly is bothering me, and also be reassured that I am indeed important enough to deserve all His consideration and attention when I honestly have something I need.  Last weekend we had gone out to a party at a club where I hit a bit of a snag dealing with someone else, and I got to see all this in action.  I was able to talk about what was bothering me, and come up with ways of dealing with it, then ask for guidance once I’d done that work.  Given that, I was feeling good about this weekend; it would all be nice and easy.  Except, even when I am genuinely happy I’m still not nice and easy.  Surprise!

I knew that since we had other things to do, this visit would not involve me being locked up in His house all day having unspeakable things done to me.  Last night, He had a dance event and we went out after that with some friends for drinks.  I’d met most of them before, and I like His friends.  Good sign.  Between sake and sashimi, and hanging out with a more abbreviated group at someone’s house, I related the Fun Sanguine Who Is Drinking With Friends version of some of my past relationships.  (That’s the version that is more sarcastic and doesn’t involve crying.  The other version is in previous posts here.)

When Sir took me home, I was not thinking of any of the evening’s conversation at all.  I was all ready for the short, we-have-to-get-up-and-help-people-move-tomorrow-but-we’re-both-pretty-keyed-up bout of sexiness that was going to end the night.  I didn’t have any particular plans and knew we didn’t have the time or energy to construct a Serious Business marathon scene, but, well, as I’ve mentioned I do like Him.  Very Much.  Fine by me to just see how He was feeling and enjoy whatever came of it.

Here’s the thing about how I work in this rare and very particular sort of dynamic as opposed to any other I’ve known:  If I can have a relationship I feel safe in combined with free rein on my darker side, I will thrive in a way that brings out parts of me that are otherwise locked away from anyone’s view.  Sure, I get hurt and have to deal with some nasty aftermath when a casual encounter goes wrong for me.  The difference is, they never see or hear about what’s going on in my mind.  It’s mine alone to deal with.  On the other hand, a casual encounter that goes right is still just a casual encounter.  Since my naughtier side is so tied in with my deeper hidden emotional side, these things can never satisfy me the way I want.  On the other other hand, non-kinky relationships don’t bring up this intensity of feeling or this openness so quickly.  It’s so easy to have satisfying normal sex, but a really satisfying encounter of the other sort will require me to let down barriers not just in my mind, but in a way that is visible to my partner.  And if He can recognise that and accept it, I may end up not having to think up a fake name for writing purposes and just refer to Him as Sir.

Which is what I was getting to here – yes, another post where I am going to be silly and girly about Him for a moment.  I was talking about last night . . . .

Since we don’t see each other that much, and I tend to spend a lot of quality time with inanimate objects, I had brought along a few new tools of mine so I could show Sir what I’d been up to on my own.  This led to Him replacing said tools, and doing a very impressive job of it, and me being pushed far past any kind of self-control.  This is one of the things I love.  Being able to hand over control of myself to another person is so difficult, and so scary, but when I can do it and then be pushed harder and farther than I ever could push myself I find a deep peace mixed with the strength to face anything my psyche can dig up.  (And that is why I prefer to have an emotional connection to whoever might be hitting/choking/restraining me.)

I had been fucked in various ways, and pinned down, and told sweet filthy things, and then, out of some no-man’s land inside my skull, I heard myself say, “Hit my face!”  And as soon as I felt it, “Again!  More!  Harder!”  At the time, I was absolutely not thinking anything.  I didn’t stop to question the origin or purpose of this – I was immediately in a place where I was asking for something entirely unexpected that I never fantasize about and wouldn’t have thought I’d want.  And that place was full of a bliss so entire that it ate me up and kept going until all my muscles gave out and I was completely used up.  And that brought on waves of euphoric giggles.  And then finally it got into my mind that I was at a height unusual even for me, simply because I had been able to let my own brain surprise me and went along with it.

Normally, like, if you stopped me on the street or even if you were discussing my wants and needs and limits with me, I would never ask for any such thing.  But I had, and Sir is so good at watching my reactions and reading my state and handling himself that he had hit me in the face repeatedly, and made me feel better than I typically would from anything I know I like.  Just hard enough, and timed perfectly, and there I am at the end of it quivering and thankful for His hand.

If you can’t guess why this was such a surprise to me, I’ll lay it out for you:  I have been hit that way before.  I have flinched at sudden movements toward me instinctively as a result.  It has never been at all erotic, and I have never wanted it, and it has always left me hating myself.  It was the first step in a long series of violent and degrading things that were done to me that ended in hospital visits, concussions, and broken bones.  Sir knows this.  He also knows that I have spent a long time and a great deal of energy putting myself back together since then.  Why He went along with me, I don’t know.  Maybe He knew He could do it in a way that wouldn’t actually hurt, so I could feel every blow and know they were coming from someone who would never want to injure my body or harm my spirit, and come out of it stronger since I had faced all the fear left in me and taken that hand on me as a loving force to replace the hate left over from the last man to hit me that way.  Maybe there was something so sure in my voice that communicated a need so deep and real that He didn’t have to think about anything beyond taking my need and bending it to His own use.  I have no idea. I only know that something that would normally be negative and terrifying turned into something beautiful and fulfilling.

Once I was able to move again, and speak in complete sentences, we sat on the porch so I could talk about it a bit.  His typical approach when He can tell I’m exhausted and have something on my mind is to hold me and listen.  I was still giddy and had serious thoughts about what had just happened to me, but the giddiness made those serious thoughts easy to handle.  I said that I had read some notes from a mutual friend of ours about using rape scenes to work through an actual rape.  I said that I might understand that a bit more now, but was still put off by it.  I said that I hoped I would never find myself wanting to take the same path as her, but that if I did I would be less upset by it than I’d thought.  But I still didn’t want that to happen.  But how could I predict what would happen, since I would never have expected tonight’s surprise?  And what if this came up in my mind, and out of my mouth, again?  He (The ex, the one who abused me so badly) figured out pretty quickly that the fastest way to knock me unconscious was a blow to the temple.  What if I wanted that?  That is THE MOST DANGEROUS place to hit someone in the skull, and Sir, please never hit me there, no matter what I say.  And why did I say that in the first place?  And why did it feel so good?  Everything I ask for is something I fantasize about, or have already experienced and know I like, except that.  Why do I feel so good right now?  Oh, except, once I did watch a video where the heroine got hit in the face over and over and I found it so hot because of the way the man was treating her, in a loving and controlled way, and also she was so clearly aroused by his handling of her.  I wondered why I enjoyed watching it so much, since I usually hate seeing that sort of thing in videos.  You’re like that, though, You can handle me as roughly as anyone has ever been able to but at the same time You can make me the happiest, luckiest girl in the world since all that roughness is just what I need and You know how to do it . . . .

And so on.  Sir let me talk about this, and let me express my confusion through the veil of bliss I was wrapped up in.  I decided I was ready for bed, sure that whatever might have happened and whatever might happen next, I would be able to enjoy it if it was good for me, or take care of it in a more constructive way if it was at all bad.

That’s it.  I might not ever want that again.  I may have needed to feel it just that one time to clear out some of my old pain and affirm Sir’s place as someone to look after me and teach me that I can let myself go safely and then find nothing but joy on the other side.

It was a surprise, and I’m not used to that kind of surprise nor the intensity of giving it that freedom of expression.  It’s only been 24 hours or so  since then, so there may be more that’ll come to me as time creates distance from His bed and His hand.  Right now, though?  I am happy, and safe, and still have no idea why I needed it or why He gave it to me.  None of that matters right now, since I have everything I need.  I’m not sure I ever need to know why.




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