Pain and Pleasure

La douleur exquise (Pain and pleasure)

I am a control freak. I know this even though my Dom says he sees no dominant qualities in me. He probably sees the person I used to be, the one I want to be, ephemerally, by way of seeking respite from the psychological turmoil my parents inflicted on me. Do what they say, obey, never make a mistake, always make the right choices -their choices- but come out of it, a fully-fledged adult. A lifetime of being mind-fucked by my own parents whom I love, venerate, and resent.

I yearn for some ineffable kind of release. I yearn to stop thinking for myself, to have to make decisions, to be the adult that my parents, much to their dismay, thought they had made of me.

I am an over-thinker. I find myself unable to seize control of my life, which I thought I have always hungered for. On my path to independence, I have lost my lust for life. I have grown jaded. The control I wished to exercise on my life slips away from me the more I try to grasp at it. Now I am stupendously lost. In my thoughts. In my head. A consoling labyrinth. Nothing makes any sense and nothing stays in the same place for long. Fleeting thoughts, I am constantly distracted by nothing.

That relentless tourbillon of nagging guilt, a hangover from my upbringing, is there to remind me that I need to stop and to continue.

I want to be taken in, told what to do. I miss being a child and I hated every moment of my carefree childhood.

I have always submitted in life. To my parents. I never had the volition to rebel. It was consoling, no matter how hard they were on me. Perhaps it is why I can so easily achieve a child-like state as a sub.

I have, for a long time, relished my complexity as a human being. I am forever elusive, even to myself. Constant oscillation, le tourbillon again. Who am I? Who do people see residing beneath this skin and bones we share? Who do they know? Nobody knows, not even me. It excites me to entertain this thought. But I am lost.

Lost in a conscious way. Lost in a "I am not lost" way.

I was also lost this week. Alive with the death of every thought that was rushing through my head. There was nothing to decide, only to stop deciding. My senses had never been so fine tuned. The intensity of the exhilaration that had me in delectable knots, it was a moment of wilful sedation wherein my senses had suddenly stopped being so dull. There was an acute sense of awareness, except that I went into my submissive state like a child, taken by the hand. Endless paradoxes. More excitement. It was dizzying to dissociate myself from my mind and to allow myself this experience. I submitted to myself and to my Dom. I submitted to stop deciding, and to take him in. I took what I could of him in and played around with it inside, in the privacy of my body.

I keep telling him I'm no ordinary sub. I am a natural born sub, conscious of her dom abilities. A coping mechanism arisen from a lifetime of conditioning. My parents wanted me to be a sub from the outside for them and a dom on the inside for others. A sub from the inside for them and a dom from the outside for others. They wanted a sub, always, disguised as a dom. A confusing prospect only for those who don't oscillate like me.

I didn't feel awake or alive in his presence. I felt I had consciously and skilfully wedged myself between my unequivocal willingness to submit and his domination. The dizzying, constant oscillation again so that I never knew where exactly I stood. Was I being dominated? Was I submitting? And it created a feeling of pure, unadulterated ecstasy which was heightened the more I was able to process it later on. I had taken him in. In his quest to dominate me, I stole what I could of him because I had taken him in. I robbed and used him. But he robbed me too, of my own volition. I owned part of him -only a part of him, because I am not greedy - by giving him all of me.

I have always taken the greatest pleasure in things, in retrospect. The never-desisting thinking and my labyrinthine brain. I oscillate again. I am in a constant dialectic of hating my thoughts and loving them. Pain and pleasure. La douleur exquise.

I want more pain, more pleasure. I want to give him every inch of me this time, no wavering, no drifting, no volition. The more I give the less I will be lost. I will know more about myself by losing all sense of self. There will be nothing left that will adulterate my self-awareness.

As for my Dom, his responsibility is great, onerous, less enviable. It reassures me but I worry for him. I don't envy his responsibility over me as my Dom. I wonder if he realises what and who he has taken on. He will have to deal with my delight in my complex humanity though I can shed it in front of him. He needn't crush it for me. Anything for that light-headedness, that intoxication I feel around his domination.

My Dom is, to my eyes, an unconventionally beautiful man -the best kind- with the deceptive face of a cherubim, a feature we both share. Yet his eyes betray him; his icy stare is devoid of any humanity. I didn't want to dig, but a curious shallow scratch beneath his cool and collected exterior revealed nothing, unlike most of his sex who are oblivious to how naked and exposed they are. It reassures me that I found nothing. I won't be bored. I take him in through his cold eyes, a pool of icy water to drown my thoughts in. I let him pierce me with those eyes though it hurts. It pains me because I can feel that ineffable part of my vulnerability seeping out, my desire to be figured out, so he can dominate me better. His smile reassures me where it might unsettle others. It also unsettles me where it might reassure others.

His domination is starting to give me a sense of self. The more I give the less I will be lost. There will be nothing standing in the way of my self-awareness.