Friday, March 12, 2010

Postscript - "I did mean to frighten you"

I did tremble as I awaited my Master's visit the day after he threatened to leave me "naked, shaken and crying on the floor." Not so much that night, but definitely the next morning. Something inside me was trembling the whole morning as I sat at my desk, trying to work, yearning to see him, yearning to serve him, but terrified of what he would subject me to.

The beast was rampant. Growing, growling, swelling, wresting control from the my Master's more deliberate sadistic nature. And I was afraid not so much of the pain itself, but of what it might do to my emotional state. I've had the occasional bad trips, receding afterwards into myself, taking days to come back, and prompting him to rethink his plans for me.

As I've said before, I get no aftercare, and find to my surprise that almost always I don't need it. If nothing else, the order is usually pain first and cock-sucking second - with some intimate nipple-twisting thrown in to form a more perfect union. (My use of the adjective "intimate" is not at all meant as irony. It truly is. What happens in those moments approaches alchemy...) Now if that isn't enough to soothe the soul of any pet, I don't know what is. But I was terrified of being subjected to an experience such as he described, and then left to pull my clothes on over my battered body and battered heart before rushing back to the office. I would bravely march in, face still swollen from crying, and delicately lower my cross-hatched bottom into my desk chair as my heart retreated into its cave.

I am always supposed to have a poem - one of my poems - prepared to recite from memory. This time, he wanted to hear - finally - the poem without words that he had commissioned back in January, now hurriedly returned to my repertoire at his command. I have enough trouble with my memory, and my reference to a repertoire is a joke on myself. Once performed, once I am learning a new piece, the old one is forgotten. But those are poems with words. The non-verbal work was hard enough to write. Memorize it? That was hell.

I am not going to describe the session, as I don't have authorization to do so. However, he did return three days later, and at the end, as he most uncharacteristically had me watch him pull his clothes back on - or is it more accurate to say he uncharacteristically had me sit so that he could look at my face and my tits and my belly as he pulled his clothes back on - anyway, at the end he surprised me - so many surprises that afternoon - by saying I could blog about his visit. And so I will.

But about Monday, I will add these 2 things:
  1. I had reminded him that time was an issue, as I tended to return to work quite late from these lunchtime trysts.
  2. He brought the new flogger. My beautiful new flogger, built to his perfectly thought-out specifications. Beautiful and perfect.
And with that bit of background, here is our post-visit exchange:

And yet, my Master, it wasn't like this. It was beautiful. You took from me, yes, but you also gave me so much, my Lord.

Were your words meant merely to frighten me, my Lord? Or is this what you meant and then something changed...

Although I meant everything I said, I did mean to frighten you, and wanted you in a specific mood today. As I said, I had more segments in mind, but I do not want to cause problems which may decrease your availability in future. Plus, you are right, something did change. I was so pleased by your non-verbal piece I felt you were due, if not a reward, at least not the harsh treatment my mood might have provided otherwise.

Was it my admittedly impressive poetic performance that made the difference? Perhaps. And I would never question my Master's interpretation of his own reactions. All I can do is say what I sensed.

I felt the change before I began to perform.

And that's enough about that.
Except that I've been floating ever since.


sephanipaige said...

a non verbal poem...interesting. I am curious but I shall refrain from begging for details :)

oatmeal girl said...

The non-verbal poem... sounds... think of the sounds you make... the sighs, the moans, the gasps, the little whimpers... combined, composed, two of these, three of those...

I did write it down, and rehearsed, and somehow managed to remember the sequence, and I did a very good job and was very, very sexy.

charlie said...

It is the complete surrender to his every wish and demand that comes out that makes him happy with his product- you. You are there for his complete enjoyment with your wishes, wants and desires of no concern to him. He is pleased with his creation with the fact that you. I would have loved to have been in the corner of the room witnessing the scene. And then watching you carefully and slowly returning to your seat at work after lunch.

Paul said...

OG, It seens that everything worked out perfectly.
Love and warm hugs,

nancy said...

OG thanks for explaining about the non verbal poem.. it sounds wonderful.

I'm glad he was pleased.. glad you made it back to the office.

But even more, how deliciously wonderful that he is so pleased with you and that you are still floating.
Enjoy every second!

sephanipaige said...

I bet it was painfully beautiful :) wish I could of seen it if your written poems are anything to go by!

oatmeal girl said...

charlie - it is certainly true that my Master is the sort who selects his activities for his pleasure, not for mine. He's not the sort who is focused on giving his submissive a basketful of orgasms. And yes, I am his creation - to some extent.

But he has a huge amount of respect for me, as a writer and as a submissive. He provides inspiration and discipline for me as a writer, demanding that I respect my talent and my art. He shies away from taking credit for my art, although we both know that he enables me to more fully realize my potential.

As for my wishes, wants, and desires not being of concern to him... yes, in that he will spank me or flog me or cane me or fuck me or see me or not because he wants to. Because he needs to. But as for the relationship as whole - as for ANY relationship, if the needs of both parties are not being met, than the relationship will ultimately fail. Unless, of course, it is an abusive relationship. Which this most definitely is not. He recognized things in me when he first found me, and as he has learned more about me he has freed more of my true self - a self which gives him what HE needs. I was not raw material, although I did need a lot of training. And still do.

The flogger is a prime example of how it works. There are reasons why a flogger is a perfect implement with which to beat me, and we are both pleased with its potential. He designed one that gives him the pleasure of beating me very hard while not surpassing my relatively light tolerance for pain. A masochist would just laugh at it. I think he could beat my ass for a long time before my capacity was reached. And one blow to my tits has my hand automatically reaching over to protect them. I learned about suffering, and he had the pleasure of witnessing my struggle to accept the torture.

And I did accept it.

I am his treasure. He values me, he cultivates me for his pleasure, he uses me to serve his needs, and he carefully observes my progress. He owns me, but I doubt he is so cavalier as to want to break me.

He owns me.
I obey him.
I love him.
And I cultivate obedience, while admitting that I do sometimes fail.

Paul - yes. It worked out beautifully. I am such a fortunate pet.

nancy - I floated for days and days...

sephanipaige - mmm...