Well. Here we are again. I've been out of the loop, so to speak, for the last couple of years when it comes to BDSM. I've been avoiding it since my divorce. Like it or not, I had a very bad taste in my mouth from my ex when it came to BDSM and all the trappings.
Why?
Well, that's a rather long story. And a very personal one. I'd lost the ability to trust. I'd lost the joy in submitting to someone. I lost the pride I had in being called slave and in being owned by someone that could control me.
Because he couldn't control me. Nor could he make me want to submit. Not long term. The requirements of a live in relationship were, for both of us, too much to cope with. I think I believed that I could not be what another person wanted...and gave up looking or trying.
It's not a good idea to start a D/S relationship when in this state of mind. You quickly find out just how much baggage you have left to deal with. So it was a good thing that I found someone patient who was willing to give me room and willing to cope with my sometimes irrational reactions.
I've found some things out about myself, in the last two years, that I had missed in the years that I was trying to be a good slave. I'm strong willed. Always have been=85and I most likely always will be. Trying to fight that is like trying to fight the tide. I tried to hide it for a long time, to subdue my wants and likes for the people I was subbing to.
I also usually make a bad submissive for the same reason. I'm bratty and bitchy and usually want my own way.
One of the strangest things I found, though, was that I do have a bone in my body, somewhere, that understands the whole dom thing. Which I probably wouldn't have realized if someone hadn't whacked it resoundingly. I'm sure the look on my face was priceless, from the way that Tiger laughed when I told him.
So. Here I sit. Owned by someone, but not liking or using the word slave or submissive...just "me". (Echoed by Tiger just using "mine", apparently.) Surprised, after over a decade, to find out that I am also a dom, to some yet unrevealed degree.
I thought life was supposed to get less dramatic the older you got. The one solid point in all of this is Tiger. Who just sits and chuckles as I flail around and try to find my feet again. If I didn't already know he was a sadist, I'd quickly figure it out from the amusement I give him. Tempest in a teapot, anyone?
