Subdued

- Sometime this weekend you will post on your blog the fact that you have displeased me
- at a very inopportune time
- causing me yet another rewrite of your plan (which I am beginning to believe holds me slave more than you)
- and invest yet more time I DON'T FUCKING HAVE

I am including this verbatim texted command from the sadist not to indicate that I am writing this post under protest, but to make it clear how angry and definite he was. For I did, in fact, displease him. More than once. Not deliberately. I would never aim to rile him. My body has met his fury before, and I suspect will meet it again when he decides I am re-trained enough to be ready for a visit.

So I am not writing under protest. In fact, I must learn not to protest. Not to argue. Not to amplify. Not to give him more than he wants. I must learn simple obedience. You would think that after 2 years I would have fully absorbed that lesson. But I lost my way.

There has been, as he terms it, a sunderance. We both felt it. He said it wasn't a question of one of us or the other, but of what lay between us. And in that I think he is most surely right. The connection between us weakened, and the effect that had on each of us made it weaker still until I became conscious of - and distressed by - what he had known for quite some time.

I have already written of his visit a week ago. Of how he had me meet him at the door with the cane, knowing that the order would catapult me into that place from which I had wandered without knowing the way back. I no longer felt his constant presence. I was no longer living every moment in some version of my own particular subspace - that magical other world in which everything was seen and felt through the lens he provided me. I was worried. I had angered him with messages asking if I had done something wrong. It wasn't the lack of messages. There have been times when I've received barely 2 words from him for days but I haven't been distressed because I felt him always with me. I lived in the space he created for me. But I hadn't been feeling that... and I think that led to my not taking his standing orders as seriously. To my not obeying as precisely. And to my not immediately confessing that I had gone to bed 2 minutes after curfew - even though I know that the details of the order are crucial. Being able to obey precisely. Even if the order seems arbitrary.

It is all about obedience.
About details.
About sacrificing myself to his will.

I do know that.
But it wasn't registering.
I had forgotten.
I had lost my way.

I don't know where it began, whether with him or with me or on both sides as a reaction to one thing or another. But I think he felt a lack of commitment on my part - which he interpreted as a lack of commitment to him and to my submission and to the relationship, whereas I was, it is true, becoming lazy and sloppy about obeying perfectly rituals (such as bedtime and scheduling) which I found to be a chore. I think I felt less of his constant presence, because of his disconnect from me, which made me feel less connected and made me lose the sense of urgency about obeying to the last precise detail. Again, I think it was a chain reaction for which I cannot pinpoint a beginning cause. But it happened. It continued. And then this week, because I was in a very bad mood due to this and that and the other thing, it all came out in the open.

I'm not going into the details of why I was so grumpy.
They are irrelevant.
They are irrelevant to my need to obey.
They are irrelevant to my need to think only of what will please him.
They are irrelevant to my need to accept.
To not argue.
To not show how clever I am.

I have been grief stricken. Devastated. Weeping from deep within what I thought was my submissive soul but which obviously had not completely gotten the message. I took these for granted. I took our connection for granted. He does spoil me. He opens up to me on rare and precious occasions and reveals his weaknesses, his pain, his doubts. As we e-mailed back and forth on Friday, he spoke of damage to the mystical aspect of our relationship (while reassuring me that I was too good a cocksucker for him to discard me at the moment.) I'd never thought of it that way - as mystical - but I knew there was something special.

At least he hasn't given up on me. Although I wouldn't blame him if he did. His words made me see clearly so many things. I do always feel the need to add more. To show how clever I am. To rationalize and intellectualize and protest and argue and insist on seeing things my way and that I have sound reasons for my viewpoint whereas he (or anyone else, for that matter) just hasn't taken everything into account or thought it all through in the most sensible and/or creative way. I can be absolutely unbearable.

The most important point of all that is that it doesn't matter if objectively he is right and I am wrong. This relationship is not a democracy. It is not an equal partnership. He is God and I am dust and if he gives a little puff I must let it blow me in the direction he desires. That and nothing more and nothing less.

We e-mailed and texted last night as well as during the day. He is now devoting an excessive and unavailable amount of time to me. Not to mention rewriting the plan. When you remember that he has other other submissives to both direct and enjoy, plus an overly busy life beyond his collection, you can appreciate how justifiably irked he is. Plus I have some suspicions as to the events which he has had to postpone, causing disappointment to people beyond the two of us.

So he has said we will try to rebuild. Slowly. I am back to calling him Sir, which seemed more appropriate at this point even before he required it. This morning was spent getting me to limit myself to three phrases:

Yes, Sir.
No, Sir.
I'm sorry, Sir.

Given how loquacious I am, you can imagine the struggle. But it was good for me. I got the point. And more than that, I felt pushed back down to living at his feet.

Already, on Friday night, he quickly brought me back to what we both refer to as that place. I had lost my way, and was horribly scared and distressed, but he quickly sent me back there. He always knows exactly what to do and say. I was there in an instant and, more important, felt the connection again.

However, as he said, that was the easy part. It will take much more than that for him to feel the same way as he did before.

I do hope he can again feel the same way.

So there we are. I am chastened and subdued and cautious and trying better than my best to be perfectly obedient. I am sitting down in the dungeon, laptop toasting my bare thighs - because he ordered me to spend the evening naked as much as was possible. Ideally, he said:

- you should actually be naked, as much as possible, when involved in any process which concerns me, including thinking
- which I have probably only told you about 1000 times

Which, I had to admit, I didn't remember his ever having told me at all.

So I am naked now. Which makes me feel very vulnerable. Not to mention a little chilly. Which of course makes my damn nipples extra hard and protuberant.

Back to the beginning again.

I did displease him.
And he had the right to be displeased.
And I feel awful at taking for granted everything he has done for me.
All the time he has spent on me.
All the effort he has put into training me and molding me.
And all the joy he has given me...

You may notice that I have added a small statement to the furnishings of the blog, right below my profile. It reads as follows:

Give him what he wants
and NOT
what he doesn't want.

That seems a more than reasonable motto for a submissive poet pet to live by.