Part 25 Vacation mode, learning time, and one girl's backstory.
We came back home after brunch and Katherine got ready to enjoy the sun on the big deck while I made a list for the grocery store and liquor store.
I was sore and overstuffed, but those were good feelings. Every little muscle twinge reminded me of our amazing night and feeling full reminded me of Mistress' generosity and the fun we'd had at The Tavern.
Insights come to me at odd times, for no discernable reason. I was deep in thought in the meat section, trying to find perfect rib eyes, when the realization hit me that I had become completely un-self-conscious when it came to what I was wearing in public or how random people might perceive it.
This realization actually troubled me a little. Was I losing the ability to be humiliated? Humiliation was an important kink for me, and more importantly, for Mistress. Would we never be able to recreate those powerful, genuine feelings?
I had arrived at one of the paradoxes one encounters in this life.
In a chat room years ago, I recall a discussion about humiliation, and the other person was of the view that anything one did in service to one's Master/Mistress couldn't really be considered humiliating, since one should be proud to be doing it. That view was easy enough to understand and even to relate to, but my contention was that there are certain things that will always trigger one's humiliation/embarrassment response, regardless of how steeped in service and surrender one is.
It came down to the difference between the doctrinaire interpretation of D/s and the actual practice of it. In theory, yes, every time one served or obeyed, one could and should be proud. But we don't submit (or dominate) out of books. D/s is real people doing real things in real situations. And given that, there was plenty one could still be humiliated by.
I thought of myself at the market at this moment. I wasn't concerned with anyone's opinion of my dress or manner. But, two seconds from now I could receive a text from Mistress that read "bend down and kiss the shoes of the next person you see and don't say a word about it," and to obey that command would be greatly humiliating; the good feeling about having obeyed would kick in later, when my mind was somewhat back to normal.
I smiled, one of those odd smiles that one smiles when one shouldn't really be smiling. Humiliation was still possible. Whew.
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Unpacking groceries never feels like a chore for me. I'm not sure what about it I enjoy so much...I think it might the feeling, when done, that there are provisions, and that creates a feeling of safety in me. Maybe.
Groceries and liquor put away, I wandered out to the deck to see if Mistress needed anything and what thoughts She might have concerning dinner.
Mistress was deep in the throes of relaxation. In reply to the dinner question She said "whatever you feel like making," and held out Her glass, letting me know She needed another vodka with Key Lime juice.
I took the empty glass and made for the bar, mind more consumed with the possibilities for dinner. "Options lead to insanity" is a Zen proverb, and it was never more true than when your Mistress says "whatever you feel like making."
I brought Mistress Her drink and looked out on the lake for a moment. There was a nice breeze today, and the catamaran I was watching was taking good advantage of that, zipping along. I thought about asking Mistress if She cared
when
we ate, but thought better of it. "I don't know what I want, but I want it at 6:45" said no one, ever.
I grabbed a beer from the fridge and decided that dinner was going to be cheeseburgers, macaroni salad, the beautiful tomatoes I'd just picked up at the market, and ice cold bottles of Rolling Rock. This meal and a certain elegant simplicity and had the advantage of allowing me to take a nap after the pasta was cooked.
I put the water on for the pasta. Now that I had allowed the idea of a nap to creep into my consciousness, it suddenly was a struggle to stay awake.
It took seemingly forever, but the water boiled, and the pasta was cooked and submerged in ice water until it got cool, drained, and put in the fridge. I took one step out onto the deck; Mistress was asleep, and conveniently the sun had moved enough that She was in the shade and wouldn't get burnt to a crisp.
I shed my clothes and was asleep in no time.
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"Hey!"
I shot upright from the bed, for a second thinking I'd slept all afternoon and night and into Monday morning.
Mistress was standing there with a smile. In a moment I realized that I'd probably only been asleep a couple of hours.
I stretched. "Sorry, Mistress..."
"No worries, candy. I just woke up Myself." She joined me on the bed and held me to Her.
"So what
is
for dinner? I'm hungry." I was savoring the closeness.
"Um...whatever I feel like making?" I said with a giggle. Fortunately for me Mistress joined in the laughter.
Mistress was approving of my dinner plan. Katherine Blackwell was highly educated, erudite, cultured...but She never lost Her appreciation for the simple things in life. It was one of the many things I loved about Her.
We ate on the small deck; the late day light is perfect there. The waning sun gave everything warmth and a vaguely psychedelic glow.
As we ate, I watched Katherine clearly enjoying Her meal and if I do say so myself, dinner was a smashing success. Within my somewhat narrow range, I know what I'm doing in the kitchen.
I was getting caught up in the sudden realization that, counterintuitively, being a slave had increased my confidence as opposed to having pounded it down, when Mistress asked me how the shopping trip was.
I told her that it was uneventful, except for my ruminations on the topic of humiliation and the potential trap/paradox involved there. I laid out everything I'd thought about and my conclusions on the matter.
Mistress leaned back and sipped a Rolling Rock. I told myself, half-jokingly, that She was so impressed with my analysis that She couldn't really think of anything to say. Being real about it, I wasn't sure She would say much at all, anyway; Mistress was not given to deep theoretical discussions of D/s, in my experience. Her actions and words always seemed geared right to me and to the here and now. She was, far as I could tell, an empiricist in these matters, something I'd often thought was a way in which Her and I were perfectly compatible.
Her replay surprised me a little bit, not so much for the content but for the expansiveness of it.
"I think you have it essentially right, candy. I don't talk about these things a whole lot with you, not because I wish to keep you in the dark about anything or remain somehow mysterious or some other nonsense. I don't talk abut these things because, as you pointed out, in practice they resolve themselves.
"At the same time, I feel it's My responsibility to have thought these things through so that I can come to My own conclusions and be ready to apply those findings to the unique situations that arise.
"In effect, I study the book but My actions are not dictated by the book. This is mainly because there are too many flavors, too many variations of people and how they will or won't mesh, for any set of rules or guidelines to apply across the board. At the same time, it's useful and I would argue necessary to have a solid grounding in the underlying theories. Not unlike a modern musician being classically trained."
She smiled at me a moment before She continued. I was rapt, getting this rare insight into Her theory and style of dominance.
"And the result of all that, for Me, is that I feel that I have what I need to own you and love you properly, while at the same time keeping Myself open to new things I might learn, and most importantly reading the signals from you. Those signals, more than anything, tell Me if I am proceeding correctly. No book, no theory, no so-called expert can give Me that knowledge.
"As to this particular topic, I agree with you." She smiled, a little wickedly, and took another sip of Her beer.
"After all, who wants someone who can't ever be humiliated?" We both laughed and clinked bottles. I took another bite of my cheeseburger. If there was a heaven on Earth, I somehow had stumbled directly into it.
Then She asked me about work. This totally threw me; I assumed that She talked to Rick about this on a regular basis and thus knew everything there was to know about my work.
I told her this and She laughed. "Oh, no, candy. It's
your
job...Rick would come to me if something were wrong and since I haven't heard anything like that from him, I assume everything's going well."
She never ceases to amaze me.
My turn to talk at length. I described the settling-in process, the day-to-day, etc. I sensed that She wasn't necessarily interested in the details of my...non-work interactions with Rick, to put it delicately, so I didn't really talk about that part of it.
Then of course in typical Katherine fashion She not only acknowledged the elephant in the room, She called it by name with a bullhorn.
"What about the other stuff? She said, matter-of-factly, like the uncle no one likes showing up at the funeral and making crass remarks about the deceased.
This was a perfect example of how one could be so fully surrendered and still have moments of embarrassment or humiliation. I took a brief guzzle of beer, trying to somehow cool off my suddenly burning hot face.
I looked at Mistress and there was nothing sadistic or condescending in Her smile; if anything, it was encouraging.
So, I talked, describing our encounters in detail. For good measure at the end, I threw in the brief use by Rick's friend Lenka at the party. I had a feeling that Mistress hadn't been aware of that.
