Saturday, July 18, 2009

When is a sadist not a sadist?

He protects me.
That's not his goal, but he protects me.
When he needs to feast on pain, he goes elsewhere.

I struggle with that, even as I am grateful. I wish I could be everything to him. But I know I can't give him everything he needs, and that if he took it from me he would destroy me.

There has been a gentleness to him these last number of weeks. The beast has been sleeping. Then there were stresses in his life, and I wondered if his sadistic needs would take control again, and I have ways of finding out, and today I did find out that Thursday he went for what he needed. And the next day he came to me.

He was tender. He touched me in a way he never had before. He allowed me to give him pleasure in a way he had granted me only once before, at which time I didn't get it right but this time, this time I think it was better. He hasn't yet had time to fully comment, but he didn't seem totally displeased.

He gave me a very special gift.
It is a gift that comes in small portions,
one little box at a time,
wrapped in layers of pain and trust.
He gave me a piece of his vulnerability.

I'm never quite sure what is behind these offerings. I suspect his motives are mixed and not totally (if at all) pure. I do think they come partly as a demonstration of his trust, and perhaps because of a need to share his pain. But I also suspect, knowing what a manipulative bastard he is, that they are gifts meant to disarm me, meant to make me love him more, and thus meant to strengthen his power over me. That's okay, I don't mind. His power is so great by now that adding another winding or two of chain won't make that much difference.

He didn't hurt me very much. Lately he has been hurting me even less than usual. There were signs that the beast had risen, which didn't surprise me, but really, he didn't hurt me very much, and his goal was not to make me suffer.

I gave him an orgasm. With my hand and my words and my unguarded eyes and my moans and my cries I gave him an orgasm. He loves my sounds. He feasts on them. And I fed him.

He does not attend to my needs. Not in any ordinary way. In the early days, he used to order me to touch myself and cum for him, while he watched. He made me look at him, he made me look him in the eyes. At first he would be close by, sometimes on the bed next to me as I lay on my back rubbing my clitoris, writhing, rising, sending breathy sounds of pleasure into his collector's ears. Eventually he started standing over me, playing on a sense of objectification, watching me, observing me, with the only connection being the road between our eyes.

The only time he fucked me was with his hand encased in a surgical glove.

Even so, he said I was hot and tight.
Very hot and very tight.
And wet.

He takes his time.
He proceeds in measured steps.

This time, at one point, as I knelt naked before my Master as he sat naked in the Eames char that was the philosopher's chair but is now the sadist's chair, he reached down beneath me and ran his finger tips over the lips of my cunt, over my pleading clit, not for my pleasure per se but for the sounds he knew would be elicited by his actions. I rose up higher on my knees, hoping he would sink his fingers deep inside me, but that was not his goal.

I was grateful for whatever I got.
I am always grateful for whatever I get.

I have learned that he rarely makes mistakes, that he thinks through his plans - for each visit, for each lesson, for goals that hang far in the distance - and that I should not question. I also know that he treasures me enough to rework his plan if need be, adjust it to allow for an unexpected outcome.

There was one more odd moment to recount, before I tell you about the amazing end. He asked me for a glass of water, that sat in readiness on a nearby table - a table laden with mostly unused items. Still on my knees, I turned to reach for it, and felt his hand come down hard on my ass. My scream contained a note of outrage, as if he had taken unfair advantage of my position. I couldn't help being amused, and pointed out my curious reaction.

I gave him an orgasm.
I gave him an orgasm with my hand
kneeling naked before him,
filling his ears with the sounds that arouse him.

A very long time ago, when I was studying child development, I learned that a good way to interact with babies is to look them in the eyes and echo back the sounds they make. It is a technique that works beautifully. It holds their attention and stimulates them to keep "talking" until it truly feels like a conversation. It builds...

As my hand gave my Master's cock what it craves in the way he has instructed me, I could see from the look in his eyes and the flush on his face that I was pleasing him. His arousal was rising. And now he was the one letting out sounds...

I know my sounds excite him. They are the most precious offering I give him. So as his excitement grew, I responded to his sounds with my own, mirroring, echoing... but after maybe two little grunts, pitched higher than his and with a female lilt to them, I was no longer merely echoing. His arousal filled me, it flowed nakedly between our eyes, and I started to channel it. There is no other way to describe it. His arousal possessed me and took me along with it. My sounds were now an uncalculated expression of the pleasure that filled me. I didn't feel it in my cunt, it wasn't a localized stimulation, I wasn't being touched, I was completely focused on him, but I rode his wave almost as if we were holding hands and taking it together, or as if I were right behind him, following in his wake.

He came.
And so did I.

Not with shuddering, womb-filling convulsions. It was a different sort of possession, richer, more united. He came, and a moment later I collapsed against him, my head against his chest. There was nothing left.

And then I found myself crying, as if the orgasm had been my own.

He ordered me to kneel by the futon with my forearms and elbows on the mattress, while he went to clean up and change. I was happy, I was exhausted, and then I started crying and sobbing again, in a continuation of my post-orgasmic release. It went on for a very long time.

And for the rest of the day, I was deliciously tired. Not the kind of exhaustion that has been plaguing me for the last month. Rather, it was a cloud of lassitude that said yes, you came, and it would have been very nice to have taken a good long nap afterward.

He is out of town this weekend, and I expect to hear nothing until tomorrow night, if that. But I have no complaints. Unlike most weekends, I don't feel lonely. I have served him well and our intimacy grows. I have no illusions, he's not in love with me, but he fills me and teaches me and guides me to be what I was always meant to be.

And some day, he will get me to the point where I will be pleading with him to be taken to the upstairs storeroom of the biker/thug bar, I will be pleading with him to take me there and toss me to the people he is assembling as the participants in my degradation. He is working towards that, I know that this is my fate, he always gets what he wants.

He doesn't want to take.
He wants me to offer.

As for now, as our intimacy grows and he hardly hurts me and he hypnotizes me with his kisses, what is the answer to the title subject?

When is a sadist not a sadist?

He is always a sadist.
And perhaps, even his gentleness is sadistic in a way.
He disarms me.
He lulls me into a sense of security.
And eventually,
as with the surprise smack while I fetched his water,
he will strike.
And still
I will feel

It is not what he is.
It is what I am.
I am his.
The rest
is commentary.

[For those who don't recognize the reference in the last line, go to the comments for a discussion.]


Orlando C. said...

Will post more later. But I am amused by the Hillel reference (would he be?) and the way our various reflections on our personal and o-so-private lives nevertheless form a conversation.

I am so glad you are back.

oatmeal girl said...

I love throwing in those little Jewish references that I know most people won't get. I forgot that I could expect you to know it.

As for the conversation between our blogs - I was quite aware of this as I wrote, and was very tempted to say see, Orlando? There IS a plot... And when people such as you and meg inspire me to comment, I often want to carry over the discussion here, because I don't stop thinking once I click submit.

As for my being back... readers such as you inspire me and bring out the best. I was thinking about this the other day, how writing for a responsive audience is like playing for dancers rather than in a static concert, which is like giving pleasure to my Master and then channeling his orgasm into one of my own. We all feed each other and build what we create into something bigger than what we could do on our own.

Vesta said...

OG: You sound happy. That is all I know for sure from this post!

Paul said...

OG, yes you do sound happy.
Your Sadist may not be in love with you, but I am certain that he loves you.
I know a little of Hillel, but I don't get the reference.
Your sacrifice is worth so much more if it is fully willing.
Love and warm hugs,

mamacrow said...

oh WOW, I think I'M in danger of falling in love with him!

by the way, the mirroring his sounds - I do that when Papacrow masturbates while holding me, and it really does have an effect.... I havn't cum from it tho, I must say!

ps I havn't even heard of Hillel, that's how ignorant I am! :-O

Orlando C. said...

May I?

Hillel was a halakhic scholar around the time of Jesus. According to a famous story, someone dared him to summarize the Torah while standing on one foot. (C.f. Einstein, etc....if you cannot explain it to a three year old, you don't understand it.)

So Hillel goes up on one foot and says: "What is abhorrent to you, do not do unto your neighbor. That is the Torah, the rest is commentary."

Of course, it's a little problematic if you're a masochist....

oatmeal girl said...

Thanks, Orlando. Although there's a little bit more to it, and the reason I didn't answer yet was because I was thinking of writing a post but wasn't yet quite up to it.

Because it's a little more complicated, and when i went to check that I had the usual wording right, I realized that I was always leaving out an important part.

The first thing is that the commentary IS important - certainly from a Jewish point of view. And what the man asked Hillel and another scholar (who kicked his ass and sent him away) was to TEACH him the Torah (not summarize). Learning is important. And what Hillel said is what you quoted (Jews use the negative version of the Golden Rule - do not do unto others what you would not have done unto you) followed by "Now go learn" or Now go study", depending on the translation.

So the commentary, the everything else, is not being pushed aside as trivial. It is true that the Torah does boil down to the Golden Rule - all those rules and precepts are really supposed to be about how to live with each other as decent human beings and make the world a better place. OK, they may have gotten some of them wrong back then - but it's the study, the thought, the going deeply into and behind it all that enables us to say now that, despite what it says in Leviticus, gay marriage is not only permissible but the right thing to allow, as good Jews and as good human beings.

Gee, how did I get there?

Anyway, thanks Orlando, for making me write about it after all, even if in a rather off the cuff manner.

By the way, Hillel was also the one who said, in one of many translations: "If I am not for myself, who will be? If I am only for myself, what am I? And if not now, when?"

mamacrow said...

'"What is abhorrent to you, do not do unto your neighbor. That is the Torah, the rest is commentary... now go and learn'

but I know this! I've heard this! Yay! Not as ignorant as I thought!

'"If I am not for myself, who will be? If I am only for myself, what am I? And if not now, when?"

heard this as well :)

I'm pleading my dyslexia (can't remember names etc sometimes - I ran out of my omega supliment a few days ago and only just got some more too, that never helps!)