Confidence Makes All the Difference
So there’s this weird revelation taking over my brain, and it’s making me feel kind of stupid.
Have you ever noticed I start everything with “so,” as if we were carrying on a conversation, and I can’t figure out how to segue into the topic I’d like to move on to? No, that’s not the revelation, but you have noticed, haven’t you?
I came into this thing knowing full well that I absolutely love being beaten and degraded and used and treated as property. Not just sexual property, but a thing for my man to use for whatever he wants to use me for. Need something at the store, but don’t feel like going? Slave! Go fetch! Cup empty? Fetch, slave! Phone ringing? See who that is, slave. Itch on your nose? Hey, slave, come scratch this.
And even as I hate some of the things he requires of me (I mean, really. Who actually enjoys pulling hairballs out of the shower drain, or cleaning the cat box, or taking out the trash?), I love that he requires them of me with complete disregard for how I feel about the act itself. That his pleasure and my obedience make me exceedingly happy (and sometimes a little wet) is undisputed. My body reacts, my mood changes, and my confidence level skyrockets when Master is in his most controlling and heavy-handed “moods,” for lack of a better word. Were there others present, not a person in the room would be concerned with whether or not I enjoy this lifestyle because it’s right in your face the moment you see me.
Except when I have a problem with something he asks for. In those moments, even those who have known me since the beginning of this journey would question whether or not this lifestyle is something I want. I get that defensive.
I thought about coming up with another word, because becoming defensive isn’t a “normal” reaction to being asked to do something you aren’t sure you want to do, but I think that describes my reaction best. If it’s something I really feel strongly about, for whatever reason (scared, uncomfortable, not interested, etc.), I’ll immediately throw up a wall, and back myself into a corner so nothing can sneak up on me from behind. And then, I begin trying to explain my way out of it. If that doesn’t work, I make excuses. If that doesn’t work, I begin to melt down from the stress of anticipating how horrible this thing I don’t want to do is going to be. And the more uncomfortable I feel, the harder I try to protect myself.
In the beginning of our relationship, I didn’t know anyone who was okay with letting me live how I wanted to live. Strangers on the internet would tell me that one day I would wake up and find I wasn’t where I wanted to be. People I called friend would tell me I pushed the limits too hard. Everyone’s opinion about my relationship and my sexuality was the same. I was acting out, and if I could just exercise a bit of self control, I’d see that how far I like to go isn’t healthy. And that was before Master had done anything more extreme than flogging me with a cheaply handmade flogger, or spanking me for breaking his rules.
When everyone you know is saying the same thing, you eventually start to believe it. When everyone I knew told me that my sexuality was “bad,” or “wrong,” or not really what I wanted, I eventually started to believe it.
I like to talk about sex with my friends. I don’t think I’ve ever had close friends who weren’t comfortable talking about sex. And so, I would discuss what Master and me were getting up to, not quite understanding that we’re a bit on the extreme side, and my “friends” would be completely shocked. Even those involved in kink. They’d ask questions like, “Why do you do that to yourself?” and “Don’t you feel degraded? Unwanted, even?” Some even told me he didn’t really love me, he was just having his fun with me.
And while my core was screaming at me that this is what we wanted, my mind was asking pointed questions. If so many people think it’s wrong, how can it be right? and How can anyone love a whore like you? and What would your mother say if she were alive?
It had a devastating affect on my ability to enjoy things that previously hadn’t bothered me. Not all the time, but once in a while, Master would start tying me up so he could beat and use me, and I just wouldn’t be in the right place, as a slave’s right place goes. Instead of just telling him I wasn’t in the right mindset, and because I assumed he’d ignore me, that being his right, I’d just push through and melt down, not really understanding that I was doing more harm than good.
I didn’t get it back then. I’d spend the whole time thinking about how bad what Master and me were doing was, and how other people would react if they knew. I’d project my self-loathing onto Master and think about how much he must hate me for being so nasty.
And of course I didn’t talk to him about it, because I didn’t want him to be disappointed. I want more than anything to be what he wants, even if it means doing things I’m not comfortable with.
He’d ask. I think I’ve even written about it before. But back then, I couldn’t answer him because I didn’t get it. I didn’t understand why my body was reacting positively to things my mind did not want to be part of.
Well, I get it now.
Back then, I had no confidence in the validity of my sexuality. How could I? The very same people who were telling everyone else to be more tolerant of their sexuality were telling me that mine was crossing the line. It’s okay to be them, and I damn well better support their right to be them, but it is not okay to be any version of me.
Somewhere along the line, something shifted. I started to really pay attention to the things people around me were saying, and learning who these people were. And I began to realize nobody has a clue.
Oh, we think we do. We’ve got our opinions and morals and we firmly believe we’re right. But when it comes right down to it, none of us is privy to the Great Plan, or if there even is one. All we know is what feels right to each of us.
But what felt right to me? Was I really into this, or was I just trying to please him? Did it matter?
Lately, I pay real close attention to my mindset when we play. It’s not a conscious thing, and I’m not doing it out of a desire to protect myself. I’m waiting for all the old fear to come crashing down on my head. Expecting the resistance to kick up around each new corner. Getting ready to run interference between the smart ass and the slave, lest the former oust the latter and get us all in a great steaming load of trouble.
But it doesn’t come.
Instead of fear, there’s an insatiable desire to be found pleasing. Instead of resistance, there’s genuine gratitude. And the smart ass has been rendered speechless by how wholly stimulated we are by each and every interaction with the man who owns us.
These days, I spend my time immersed in sex positivity. The people I’m friends with don’t give a damn what I do in my bedroom, and they’ll support whatever decisions I make, whether they agree with them or not. They tell me they disagree, and why, but they’re respectful and don’t invalidate my opinion.
Add that to the fact that Master tells me when I’ve impressed him, and my confidence in my sexuality has soared. And suddenly, I’m free to just enjoy the dirty, disgusting things he makes me do without being embarrassed, or ashamed. It’s a pretty cool place to be.