Slowly Broen

Ever have an epiphany in bed? Master was staying with me a few days this past weekend. He had affixed my new collar and sleeping rope to the bed and I was laying cuddled against his side, near sleep, catching my breath from pleasuring him while we spoke softly in the dark warm bedroom. A room that is decorated as a love note to my Master.

In our personal times of high protocol black and red have significance. Black are the nitrile gloves he wore when he pierced me, Black is his old combat uniform that just SEEING him in puts me on me knees. Black the big leather chair that I bought JUST for the nook in my bedroom, for him to lounge on handsomely and hopefully comfortably, while I wait at his feet. Black is my heavy wooden bed that we are installing additional hardware into. The rings on the headboard and eye pins along the lower rails all around, All the better to tie me with.

Red is my slavery. Red Ropes hang in the closet to bind me. Red sheets one the bed beneath us. When the red collar is the one he chooses to put on my throat it's not just playtime, it's something a little more serious. It's time to not be bratty. It's important to listen, to obey, and even to know he expects to be causing me pain.

The walls of my bedroom are crimson, the big cushion to place at his feet, the linens of the Master bath, and the lead rope that hung from my throat. Even the artwork on the walls and the lampshades on the night tables. All rich crimson, the shade of the blood that has occasionally been coaxed from my body during our roughest scenes.

It's come in little stages. Going from wanting claimed as his, to being his collard sub to admitting he was my Master not "just" my Sir. Even when I changed my profile from Sub to Slave a few months ago I didn't really I think, GET it. It's been little changes that I've come to call " I'm getting tame" - things like not making a hiss or a snarky comment - not because I was afraid of a repercussion from my Master, but because I either didn't' want to disappoint him or actually caught myself thinking, "He deserves BETTER than that from me."

So it was in bed, one of the times when I've been allowed to pleasure him as we settled sleepily into the fresh brand new sheets, feeling the slight pull on the lead rope attached to my throat as he gathered the red coil in his hand and stroked the back of my neck. I don't remember how exactly it came to be that I made my realization. It was this slow dawn not just one flash that told me, "I'm broken"-but it started to occur to me how I'd BEEN broken.

It was never pain, or blatant manipulation or punishment or anything big and dire. It's taken somewhere around a year while I healed and let wounds another had put on my soul bleed and seal. While I've learned to trust. While I've learned not just how much I love and respect him but WHY I do. Why I stop and don't DO things i normally would .

Things like sticking out my tongue at him, Things like some mornings when my body aches from use and I don't want to obey my set tasks, such as wearing the anal toy he's chosen for me that day for example. I catch myself stopping, thinking about that while he may not know, while I COULD just tell him I do a certain thing and not get caught in the wrong doing because he's usually about 3 hours drive away -- its... wrong. Not morally wrong (though there's that too) it's wrong to not DO what he wants. I'm intelligent, I have free will... sort of, I COULD defy my Master. I COULD be willful, There's nothing coercing me to do these things.

Except this. . . MY will. It's part of ME.

My will has bent to accept his. Broken under the slow, relentless, and yet careful strength of his.

So softly it starts.

I'm reminded of a scene from one of my very favorite books. This feral horse refuses to step into small space to be washed with sheep dip or something similar. he plants his feet and becomes The Immoveable Object. His handler doesn't tug, beat, coerce. Does not even raise his voice to the creature. He ties him to the fence so he cannot back away, but could move forward when he gives in. And just waits. Occasionally making a soothing sound and telling the horse to "walk on" Until slowly the horse figures out that the man and he will stand there until the moon has risen and set again if that's what it takes. And he moves forward as asked.

I think what I asked of my Master as I lay with my head low on his belly, the taste of him still on my tongue. Thinking, head spinning a bit, was "Our first scene, that night when I thought I had 'won" because I never called red? That scene never actually ended did it? "

I HAD asked that he try and break me. Said I wanted to know what I was made of and see how brave and strong I really was. I'm still coming to understand how a man, even one as sharp as my Master, can play such a long slow game of this. And at what point does one say, "That's when I/she broke "

Its certainly been by degrees. Subtle steps. Arguments could be made for so many stages of it. The night I admitted the "M" word, that he was not just my Sir but my Master? The day I decided I wanted the body piercings done to his liking including my clit hood. The day we DID the clit piercing and I basically had a panic attack and was lost inside my own head feeling that my soul was made of eggshell? The very first night when I submitted my body to a taking I was sure I'd hate, because of my past experiences, and instead found a wild sort of pleasure? I don't think any of these.

I don't think I was REALLY broken until I lay in the warm darkness and RELIZED I was. until I asked him if he had ever stopped. Asked if while I had fought and denied how tame i was becoming, how I had WORRIED that if I were tame he wouldn't find me an exciting challenge anymore. Wouldn't want me. If this whole time he was the man who had tied me to the fence and waited while I eventually just obey his firm gentle command to "walk on".

I wish I remembered more of his exact words when we discussed this. Profound conversations really shouldn't occur at fuck o'clock in the morning, but they often seem to. He admitted no. He untied me from the bed that first night. He did stop the beating, but we were far from done. He just learned me. Knew pain wasn't the 'button', and switched tactics.

I don't know how much my understanding that I'm far past being tamed had to do with a further revelation just a bit later that evening. After a little more talk, and petting and pleasure my Master took my body in my favorite way. I can actually admit that. Admit this. While I LOVE few things on this earth the way I love "regular" sex with him, and while there are few things as rough and exciting as when I feel his hand cover my mouth to stop my screams and know hes about to take my ass HARD. So that i scream and cry in pain... it's the gentle anal sex that is possibly my favorite thing in the world.

I've actually orgasmic - more than once now - from this. It not only doesn't hurt - which when I (it seems so long ago now) agreed to TRY, was the best i hoped for. It doesn't hurt its... one of the deepest pleasures I've ever had. As intense as the orgasms from my spot. As slow and sweet as making love in a slow tangle of limbs on a rainy afternoon. As full as deep and satisfying as any scene. I sometimes have to fight HARD to stay steady and let him BE gentle, not to force my body back and take him deep inside myself, where I crave him.

I don't know maybe what my exact words were. But this night, I admitted to my master in the dark warmth, on crimson sheets and with the weight of a red rope at my throat, and with a heart that belongs to him in a way it never could to any mere human, that this.. THIS gentle taking was the best feeling in the world.

Something a little beyond pleasure stole that truth from me and put the words in the air between us. So much of me wanted to backtrack,,, remind him how very MUCH I love him in my cunt for example (the simple fact i can USE the C word because he enjoys little vulgarities from me in private. ) But is simple and true. Of all the pleasures I've had at his hand... and there are a LOT of them. ( Never knew a man who is so good with a gspot for one thing and I do NOT just mean with is fingers. ) But he has made THIS,,, the gentle, slow sink-into-your-body anal sex as my favorite of pleasures. The one that has reduced me to sobs of pleasure beyond moans. The one that's made me glad of all his careful training and that I DID obey instead of just pretending to comply when he wasn't around.

Under his body and his absolute command I can state I'm broken and glad of it, and am my Masters completely unrepentant anal sex loving whore. And that as much as anything drives home how much I've changed. How thoroughly broken and HIS I have become. A year ish ago when we started this ride I knew I would give Anal sex another try, for him, because I trusted him and wanted to give him something I knew he would enjoy. But I expected to always hate it, the way the Ex made me learn to hate it.

My Master has both broken and healed me. Taking the shards of what I was and putting me back together in a way I'm very happy with, and hope every that that pleases him.

I'm not rebelling against this ... though I occasionally have a stray thought that tells me I SHOULD. Things I would have once thought like that if I'm this wrapped up in another person where is my personal strength and independence? where's my pride?

Its from a very peaceful place I answer myself. My strength is in knowing how happy I really am, and how I'm willing to fight with everything THAT I am to defend the life I'm living under this mans hand. My independence in other aspects of like ( job, bills etc ) is unchallenged. I'm adulting just fine. But my independence exchanged in my life as his Slave is a sort of freedom and safety and place in the sunlight i never believed in fully before.

My pride? My pride is FIERCE. LOOK who I belong to. My best friend, the best lover I'd had in OR out of a fantasy, my honorable trusted, smart as hell master. He found me worth his time. Worth his collar. Worth the long slow work to figure me out and chip away at my inner mind and brake me from the inside out. Pride? I have value to the person who means everything to me. Damn right I'm proud. I love my Master, My Life, and the person I am becoming.