First, I would like to apologize to A for any errors in my memories that I have in talking about the time I spent with him. It's been about six and a half years since my time in California, and the week that I spent there had far longer ranging effects on my spirituality and choices within the Leather Community than I had expected.
As with the majority of my partners and friends, I met A online. First through alt.sex.bondage and later in email, A and I became friends and it was agreed that I would visit him for a week. My visit happened to coincide with Folsom Street Fair that year. From the outset, I had agreed that he was in charge. It was a condition of my visit. And from the moment of my arrival, there was no question in my mind that he was well able to take control of me and keep me off balance.
We stopped for dinner before heading to a private party given by the Society of Janus. Here, I'm afraid, my "small town hick" nature reared its head. While I'd been active in our local munch group and played a great deal in private, the sheer number of people at the party was stunning. Men and women were strapped, lashed, suspended, and otherwise restrained to a variety of dungeon furniture all over the room. It seemed as if every spare inch had furniture and bodies stuffed into it.
I'm afraid I wandered around with my mouth hanging open. The sheer variety of people and activities in that room opened my eyes to a couple of things. First, however far I'd come in my own development, there would always be more to explore and discover. Second, I started to think I was woefully out of my league with the people I was meeting. Nothing had prepared me for the energy that I walked into in that room or how it ebbed and flowed between the partners within a group and with the audience watching the scenes. Playing in front of or watching a scene with perhaps a dozen people in a room was vastly different from a room with what felt like over 100 people.
I think A could tell when I started to get overwhelmed by the energy in the room. We left not long after that for the trip to his apartment where I was ensconced in my own room to collapse into an exhausted sleep until the next morning.
The next day was even more overwhelming in some ways. At UIUC, I was involved in pan-sexual groups for the most part. There weren't enough of us to have separate groups for GLBT members. Once we set off for Folsom Street Fair, I settled down a little bit.
Until we arrived.
I had never in my sheltered life seen such a spectacle. Thousands and thousands of leather folk of every possible type wandered the fair. Again, the energy that swirled around the fair was amazing. We wandered past booth after booth, meeting the people that A knew and watching what was going on in some of them. In one of them, a person had clipped a violet wand to themselves and offered to let me see what it felt like when they heard I'd never tried one before. A answered for me before I had the chance to turn down the offer.
I turned around and moved my hair out of the way, slightly nervous and expecting the jolting zap that you get when you shock yourself. I was somewhat tense before I felt the first brush of their fingertips around the nape of my neck. Much to my surprise, there was no jolt of electricity, but rather a pleasant buzzing that raised the hairs on my skin. I was wearing a sueded silk shirt that day and ended up being one of the few bright splashes of color at the fair. The feel of fingers sliding over the silk combined with the soft, electric buzzing sensation was exquisite.
Little did I know that for the last 24 hours or so, A had been watching and cataloguing my reactions to things...how I responded, how I acted, what I liked and what I didn't like. We left the booth after thanking my tormenter for the attention. Or, rather, I think I thanked them. A did, I know. I was still a little fuzzy. We left the fair after I stopped to buy a strip of leather with a pattern of wolves on it for my hair and headed back home.
Once at home, A went out onto the balcony while I went to freshen up a bit. When I came out, he called me out onto the balcony and looked at me for a moment before ordering me to take off my shirt. That stopped me dead in my tracks. I am not, for all that it may appear it, an exhibitionist when it comes to playing. I have no qualms about writing about my adventures and posting it to as many places as I can find that will have it.
But exposing my body, my emotions, and myself to a partner sitting in front of me is more than difficult. A waited very patiently, watching the play of my struggling to do this on my face. There is no doubt in my mind that he's a sadist as well as a dominant. I've seen the look on other partner's faces since then; the tiny smile as they watch their prey struggle to follow their orders, doing what does not come naturally to them.
I glanced around before actually removing my shirt, unconsciously checking to see if others were out on their balconies and where the sun was in the sky. For my delay, once I did remove my shirt, I had to stand there until he was satisfied. It felt like an eternity. I have to wonder if he was waiting to see how long I would stand there before my discomfort overcame me and I asked to put the shirt back on. If he was, his timing for his next order was perfect. I was about to ask for...something...I don't know what....when he told me to kneel at his feet and put my mouth to work. I don't remember for certain if I made him come that night or not. I don't believe I did, but he was eventually pleased enough that he sent me off to bed.
The next day was spent in a rather lazy manner with, I believe, some errands being run. In the evening, I was sent off to the complex's whirlpool to soak while A met with his spiritual mentor in private. This gave me some time to relax and read on my own and make notes for mail back to my husband and then owner. I'd forgotten to bring a swimsuit and had to make due with a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Several hours later, A appeared at the edge of the whirlpool that I was, apparently, dozing in and woke me with a touch. He told me to get out and come upstairs. J wanted to meet me after I'd showered and changed.
When I emerged from the shower, A and J had moved inside from the balcony where they'd been to the living room. A took me into the kitchen to retrieve some tea for myelf and while we were there he told me that J knew everything that he did, including the BDSM portion of his life. I nodded and smiled, not quite understanding why he was telling me that, but assuming it was important.
His two couches were pushed together into an L shape and they each were on one. A had placed a pillow on the floor in front of both for me to kneel on, facing them. He introduced me to J then paused before again telling me to remove my shirt. I froze, looking for all the world like a deer caught in a car's headlights.
If I'd thought the previous day's order was hard, it was nothing compared to this one. I knelt there, shaking, for a very long time before I dropped my head down and shook it. My "no" was barely loud enough to be heard. As I knelt there waiting for the reprimand and punishment that should have been forthcoming for refusing, I knew that I'd crossed the line.
What I hadn't counted on what exactly which line I'd crossed. I knew, from the outset of the trip, that I didn't have the right to refuse an order. A watched me for a few minutes and then asked why I wouldn't. And, I didn't have what I thought was a good answer for the question so I started babbling.
That I knew that J was his mentor and that it wasn't respectful to do so. That I wasn't comfortable kneeling there without the shirt while talking to J because for me it would be a continual distraction and that would hurt the flow of the conversation. He waited for me to wind down and then smiled before asking if I knew why he'd asked me to remove my shirt.
I shook my head again and he said it was because I needed to learn that it was ok to say no. Then he and J started talking while I sat there and thought. Thought about what had happened in my life up until that point and realized he was right. Saying no was not something I was practiced in...and had been causing me problems for quite a while. In hindsight, I saw my relationship with my then husband for what it was. And it wasn't very pretty. It needed some work. A lot of work.
Once I'd chewed on that, A and J drew me into the conversation, talking about the religious path I walked, how long I'd been on it, what it meant to me. I'd hit a point in my growth that had leveled off and was struggling with what to do at that point. At the end of the evening, I was handed some of J's writings and told to read through it while I was visiting A that week.
During the day, I read his material and in the evenings, A and I would go out and meet some of the folks I'd met online or spend time playing. He introduced me to the first cane that my body had ever felt...to the wide variety of uses that duct tape was never meant to be used for...and he bent my mind around this way and that.
Two incidents in particular stand out in my mind. Over the years, I've used bits and pieces of this trip in my writings as a basis for fantasies and stories. They've never come close to the intensity of actually experiencing them, though. On one evening, A walked me over to one of his closets. He restrained my wrists together and then took the rope up and over the top of the closet door, pulling my arms over my head. Then he closed the door and left me in the dark. I can't remember being gagged, but I must have been, because I don't remember begging or pleading while I was in there.
It was dark. Very, very dark. I was pressed up against coats and pants and clothes that I couldn't identify. At first I was quiet, listening to see if A was coming back. I couldn't hear anything at all. And then the questions started in my head...what if he's gone? How long will I have to stay here? God it's warm...no...stay standing up straight. I know I bounced my head on the door several times as I swayed in the complete darkness. It got harder and harder to stay standing with my arms up over my head. I know it sounds simple enough, but the dark was disorienting after a while. And the warmth and silence made it hard to tell directions.
As the silence grew longer, I tried counting to keep focused. I tried telling myself a story...chanting to myself, since singing was right out...anything at all to bring some type of anchor into being so that I could stay there where A had placed me. I'm not claustrophobic in the least, but eventually the closet walls started to feel like they were pressing in, pushing the darkness harder around me. I lost all track of time. I could have been in there for 5 minutes or 5 hours. With nothing around me to see or use as sensory perception other than the inky blackness and the feel of clothes pressing on me there was no way to keep a hold of myself.
People talk about the darkness just before the moment of initiation or rebirth, how it's comforting, how they wrap it around themselves as a kind of blanket. I wonder, now, if those people really know that blackness and the crushing feeling of the darkness of nothingness. Of the Void.
I don't think I passed out in the closet, but I was definitely sagging against the door towards the end. Warmth turned into an almost oppressive heat. I was dazed, convinced that A had left me, left the apartment and I was going to be in the closet, in the darkness, forever. That I was going to pass out and hurt myself badly. I think I started to cry. Not deep wracking sob, just quiet tears of...desperation?...futility?...acceptance?
The door opened, then, letting in blinding light and cool, fresh air. A helped me steady myself before he untied my hands and led me out of the closet. Even in the haze I was in, I saw the chair with a book resting on it not 4 feet from the closet. I curled up on the couch when we got to it and drank the water that was there. Once A was sure I was heading back into being coherent he sent me off to shower and sleep. It wasn't easy to function again in a normal state of mind, but somehow I managed, knowing somehow that the next day would be even more difficult.
And it was.
That was the day I learned about ego. About ego and how it holds us back and how it's necessary to be broken down to get past ego. I don't remember much about the early parts of that day. That's not unusual considering the night before. What I do remember, though, was sitting on the couch, curled up and reading one of A's books when he walked over and trapped me on the couch, hovering above me. His hand cracked across my cheek with sudden startling motion.
I must have gasped in surprise or moved in a way that he didn't expect because his other hand came up to brace my chin a bit before the second strike. I lost count of the number of times he slapped me. Slowly, steadily, he struck one cheek and then the other until tears were running down my face. Oh, it hurt. I wanted it to stop. I wanted it to never stop. And it was that moment that he did stop to ask me if I wanted to go on. I sat there, looking up at him, unable to answer at all. I started to answer several times before stopping myself. In the end, all I could do was whisper that I didn't know.
He spoke two simple words to me. Two and no more. And yet, those two little words changed my life in ways that I wouldn't know for years. "Try yes," he said.
And so I did.
How long it went on after that I don't know. When he was through, I had cried myself out and lost myself again, sent flying off once more into the Void where there was nothing to face but what was inside of myself. To face the Shadow part of my being...all those things that I shoved away because they didn't fit my image of what a submissive was, what a witch was, what a wife was. All the things that rebelled against what I thought I should present to the world instead of being who and what I am.
After wrapping me in a blanket, A left me alone for the rest of the night and most of the next day. He kept an eye on me, I know, but other than that I was left to my own devices. And, being who I am, I thought I had failed again. But, while I was deep inside myself I discovered that even if I had failed, life would go on. If A was disappointed in me, somehow, I would live and he would get over it. It would be a shame, but life would still go on.
Late in the evening, we sat down on his balcony to eat and talk. And he reassured me that I hadn't disappointed him somehow. He'd left me to myself to process what had happened when I broke through the blocks that ego had put up in front of me. There was little he could do at that point, save watch me to make sure that I moved forward with the lesson of integrating the various parts of me. I'm sure if I'd had problems, he would have stepped in with help, but I struggled through it on my own.
Saturday dawned bright and beautiful. We spent most of the day doing touristy things. I got to see a huge group of sea lions basking on the wharf piers in the Carmel area and the gulls and sea lions fight over the scraps of fish that got tossed out to them. I'm afraid I completely bored A by being so enthralled by them and then begging to be allowed to walk on the beach down by the water to collect a shell or two. It must have worked, since he indulged my whim. Eventually, we headed back home because J wanted to meet with me one last time before I returned home. We talked for a while about he changes that I'd gone through over the week and he appeared pleased by them.
When we arrived at the airport the next day, A sat with me and we talked while waiting for the plane. He could sense, I think, that I was truly sad about leaving. During the last few minutes that we spent together, we talked about ego. About how it disliked change, and leaving was change. When ego works properly, it protects us from harm, but it doesn't always know the difference between good change and bad. We need to learn when to ignore ego...when to tell the little voice in our head that tries to maintain the status quo to just fuck off.
I'd like to say that I knew immediately what he was talking about, but it would be a lie. Six an a half years have gone by since that trip, and even now, I'm still learning things about it and myself. That trip was two months after I married my husband. In another two months he would strip the collar from around my neck without discussing why he was doing so or what I'd done for it to happen.
Fifteen months after that trip, my husband would move one of his slaves in with us to live, again without asking if it was ok. Three months after that, I'd decided that it was time to end things on the same day that he asked me what I thought we should do since neither of us was happy. I told him to move his things out. Ten months after that we were divorced and I never saw him again. It was a full three years after our divorce before I could make it out to California again to return my wedding rings to the sea. Finally, I'd come full circle. What started on that fateful trip has finally come to a close and a new cycle has started.
It's now been a year since I got rid of my wedding bands. A year since I started this particular journey that got underway at a Leather Seder when I was asked to remember people and things as part of the meal. Spiritual growth happens in many strange and wonderful ways, some of them completely unexpected. To A and J, I give my eternal appreciation for the time they spent with me and the care with which they brought me to the doorstep of a new way of thinking and understanding.
It's strange, looking back, that one of the people that Mastered me the easiest never owned me. And still owns a small piece of the core of what and who I am. A part of me still longs for California and for that time. I suspect it always will.
