Broken

I've heard that term used in bdsm circles.  Usually in M/s dynamics where a Master feels it necessary to "break" his slave.  I'm not going to presume the multitude of reasons why.  I just know from things I've read that this is usually an intentional process or situation.

I've never thought of a slave being "broken" was necessarily a bad thing, although the methods to which a slave is broken might curl my toes.  To me being broken is like tearing down that last wall of self and finally admitting that there is no 'you' in the equation.  Like a tortured prisoner finally reaching that point where they give up the information to their captor.  I'm not talking a scene, but real life, pissing in your pants in fear kind of giving it up to save themselves.

I've had moments with Jefe where I break down, feel that liberation from life and can reach out and feel nothing but my submission to him.  I've had many of those moments, some were intentional on his part, some were not. I've had many intense moments, scenes, sessions whatever you want to call them that have brought me out of this world and into that dreamy realm of sub space.

This past weekend surpassed any and all preconceived notions on anything I ever thought regarding bdsm, a power exchange, M/s, and my relationship in general with him.

As luck would have it, my two afternoon meetings were canceled last Thursday, so instead of leaving at 6 or 7 pm.  I was packed and out the door by 2:15.  Made it up north with plenty of daylight and time left to the day. Master wasted no time in instructing me on his wishes.  By the time I'd been there 20 min, I was already mostly naked, a hooks in my arse and cunt tied to an overhead beam so as to apply the right kind of pressure you know, hands clasped behind my head and eyes closed- - as instructed.

I hadn't even had time to pee!

Which gave me pause for concern, but that is an entirely different matter, and thankfully one I don't have to write about in this blog LOL.

I finally felt the single tail.  OH MY FREAKING GOD!!! That thing hurt like nothing I've ever felt before.  I wasn't expecting that weapon either, so I'm not sure if that made it hurt more.  It was like punishment pain.  There's a definite distinction in the types of pain he inflicts. pleasure type pain, and holy fucking shit that hurts so I won't ever do it again pain. This was the latter.  Now when I'm punished, the rare times it does happen, I know in advance that it is a punishment, and what it's for.  In my head, I could only reconcile this type of hurt as punishment, but didn't know what for.  Each lash cut into me figuratively, as the pain intensified, so did my angst.  I could feel the bitch starting to rise.  He asked a question, but I couldn't even formulate a word or phrase to answer, when I finally did- my tone was not exactly pleasant.

As I appear to be a budding masochist/pain slut, he's experimenting with pain- exploring his sadistic side. I understood that, I got that, I was good with that am good with that.

Things progressed from there to the other room... the death stick (hitachi wand), paddles, clamps, hood, legs tied open, ankles secured, wrists secured.  Pretty typical actually.

There was nothing typical in my reaction.  I was on edge, pins and needles, couldn't see, smell, barely hear, all I had left was touch. Every touch tossed me to a higher plane, my emotions bounced faster than I did.  For the first time, ever, I didn't like him.  It wasn't one of those "is he done yet" moments.  It wasn't one of those "this hurts me mother fucker" moments.  It wasn't a "fucking punishment" moment.

It was one of those moments where I wanted to be away from him, cringed from his touch, struggled to make it stop.  Felt him continue as he wanted to, he took and took- just like he should.

I recognized in those moments of extreme angst that this is what I signed up for, this is what it boils down to, it's the feral side of the power exchange, the nastiness, the blatant hunger. It's life without a safe word, life with that much trust and love for someone to say take me I'm yours- and mean it.  It wasn't being nudged past a comfort zone, it was being knocked clear across the field.

Within seconds of the ropes being freed, I sought his touch.  Even through all of my emotional upheaval, despite how much I wanted to be free from him in those moments, I needed him.  I had been broken at the barest level, the darkest point, the deepest well.

Later on after some discussion, and I finally realized what my roller coaster of emotions was, he did what any good Master should do...

He fixed me.

He did not set out to break me on Thursday.  He did nonetheless.  I am bound by a whole new definition, something emotional.

The rest of the weekend was beyond description, and due to snow, I had an extra day/night on top of all that.