The cycle always begins with a connection which feels good yet hasn’t developed into something real or significant.
It was a great conversation via email, and I was starting to feel that all-too-familiar ache. You know, the delicious needy ache, which pulses just below the navel before sending jolts of heat into submissive cunt and cock alike? Yeah, that one. Addictive as it is dangerous, yet I crave it all the same. So what came next came naturally.
I fired off a lurid note full of want and lust – a tiny spark of the voltage which flows through me when I’m truly owned, loved, and under a Dominant thumb.
Within seconds, I regretted sending it.
It’s not that such a note wasn’t welcomed by her. I take pains not to be rude. No, it’s because the situation was all too familiar, the same conversation I’d had over the years with one person or another. It was a waste of time, as predictable as it was pointless. Because – all too often – this conversation about triggers and desires begins long before it should. A kind of furtive, literary wank session, which seldom leads to a sustainable and happy ending.
Annoyed, I sent a note explaining myself, part of which is included below:
It’s not you that’s the problem. It’s an aspect of me.
There’s a boy inside me who’ll manipulate and twist a situation until he gets the stimulus he craves. A sensation junkie and emotional glutton, he’s devoid of compassion or respect. His motivations are merely impulses. He has no concern with long-term consequences, and he lacks respect for Dominants or anyone else, even himself. Especially himself. Others exist as mere objects, the means to an end. The irony and repercussions of his actions are neither perceived or felt, at least, not by him. Once sated, he disappears.
Yet I remain. Each failure serves only to alienate me further from my true nature, each disaster merely deepens what already feels hollow with in-authenticity. I refuse to let him run my life and ruin the tiny steps of progress I’ve made evolving into a better human being. The boy can stay hungry, howl, and make me miserable. I don’t care. He will be fed, but only when I can do so without feeling weak and worthless afterwards. He won’t get a scrap until I’m quite sure whoever I’m engaged with – mentally and emotionally – is not simply receiving stream of what’s partially conscious and wholly unremarkable. And until we really know one another, I need to keep him restrained and partially gagged. Because unless I keep him in check, there’s little chance of I will say anything as authentic and true as I’m capable of. Instead, I’m likely to say whatever it is you want to hear.
She was quite sweet and understanding – yet wanted to know more.
Q – “So then what are you really looking for? What is it, exactly, you seek?”
A – “To be broken – to become undone. To be broken down, then brought back up, for both me and her.”
I gave little thought to the pat answer above. Unimpressed, She asked a follow-up question I’d not considered.
Q – “What do you seek to gain by being broken and brought back up for her? What needs does it feed in you?”
How strange, that I’d never really thought this through. Once I did, I arrived at the following conclusion:
I seek to be broken and reduced to the boy described. And if I cannot reach the core of who he is, then I hope to get as close as possible. And in being brought back up, I hope to find a way to make him welcome and cherished instead of keeping him caged as though he’s something ‘bad’ or ‘evil.’
Because he’s a part of me, I cannot hate him without hating myself. Yet, I cannot let him run my life, or I’ll exist as a parody of who I’m capable of being.
While I’ve engaged in numerous acts and pseudo-rituals that gesture at humility and submission, there’s always some kind of ‘meta logic’ to it all. No matter how hard I try, I’m always somewhere outside myself thinking in dualistic terms about what I’m doing or what’s being done. Instead of simply feeling, or acting, or obeying with pleasure, my logic constantly wrestles with drives and needs that are forever set aside to simmer and never simply ‘there.’
Instead, these drives are suppressed until they’re released or boil over – only to be suppressed again.
I seek to become her boy, to be broken down into those finite pieces until they’ve been ground to dust and have been integrated into the greater whole of who I seek to be.
I seek to be that dependent, craven slut for as long as it takes that my aspects – ones that are aggressive, strong, proud, and compassionate along with a multitude of additional traits, both positive and negative – can merge with those of the boy. I seek to make peace with the fact he exists and is not going away.
As for that lengthy list I gave you a fragment of – those acts which are both sacred and profane. I seek to learn to suffer, serve, and enjoy all of it equally. I seek to be both a cherished possession and a valued companion. I hope she herself will grow wiser and mature through the process of helping me get there. I seek to fully belong to someone, focused on them in ways which aren’t parasitic but symbiotic.
I embrace the concept of mindful co-dependence and supplication without becoming anemic and frail. I seek engage in acts of worship as authentically as I am committed, wholly.
I seek to submit as such – suffer as such – burn as such.
She smiled – or I imagine she did – before asking something about the origins of how this boy became stigmatized. I’ll save the question and my incomplete answer for another day.
For now – I’m happy to have, at least, recognized and arrested the cycle described above. That alone was some progress. However, I’m even more grateful to have an idea about my real destination, understanding it to be far more than merely a space, a time, which leads to some ambiguous event. I now understand what I hope the outcome will be: that I will mature, heal, and grow more intelligent – mentally, physically, and emotionally.
Failure is not an option.
When I succeed, my Dominant will possess a far more valuable submissive than the one she began with.