I know it has been a long time since I have written. The past few months have marked some major milestones for Jake and I, but the growth has brought a certain amount of pain, and not all of the good sort.
Around the beginning of the year, we set out on a course of nightly maintenance spankings, and they went fairly well, at least at first. Then the novelty wore off and I could not bear them anymore. Jake bought me arnica gel, which may or may not have helped with the bruising (it’s not like I could see back there), but it left my skin hard and dry. I felt sore and ugly, and things began to fall apart. Not only did I rebel against the nightly spankings, but against anything submissive, and things stopped altogether. There were no nightly romps in the playroom.
Jake was miserable, and frankly, so was I.
After several months, when I could finally admit that infrequent vanilla sex wasn’t what I want to do for the rest of my life, Jake suggested that we might benefit from putting together a contract. We’ve never had a contract before, and thought it didn’t seem like it would matter, the idea was exciting all by itself. He wrote a draft, which I reviewed and suggested a few changes to, and then we signed a final version complete with limits, rules and consequences if rules were broken.
That contract lasted only a couple of weeks before I changed my mind yet again. It wasn’t enough. There was a clause in the contract that allowed me to opt out, and I took it.
Within days, the old frustration surfaced again: the frustration of not knowing what Jake wanted, what I wanted, the inability to articulate desires, and the frustration of just wasting time that we will never recover. And for both of us, the inability to ascertain just exactly what it was that the other wanted.
” Jake”, I whispered one night in one of our many, many conversations, “I can’t do this. I don’t even know what it means to be submissive. What is it that you want me to do?”
Finally, FINALLY, Jake said “When I want to do something in the bedroom … anything, don’t ask yourself if you want to do it. Don’t think about whether or not you will do it–that’s not even a question. Just tell yourself that you must do it. You have no choice.” For me, a light bulb finally went off.
At Jake’s suggestion, but with my agreement, we removed the opt-out clause from the contract. Jake spanked me that night (and more), and we are proceeding onward. We have tried some new things…things that I drew the line at before, but found that they were enjoyable after all, or at least immensely satisfying.
I think I get it now. I am relaxing. I don’t have to be ashamed to be willing to do something my mother (or friends, or anyone for that matter) might disapprove of. I cannot fight with my own demons, who tell me what a normal sexual relationship should or should not be. I have a contract. I have no choice. And wow … contrary to what you might think, it is so freeing. I feel liberated, given permission, or perhaps given an order (or at the very least ‘my papers’) to resume a journey that Jake and I began a few years ago.
As with any journey, I just cannot keep asking “Are we there yet?” I just need to relax and enjoy the trip. I will know if and when we get there.