Something happened on Saturday night, but I’m not really sure how to describe it. There was a point where I was fighting so hard not to let go and at the same time wanting to let go desperately.Then all at once I just stopped caring about what I “should” or “shouldn’t” be doing and just did it. It’s not that I gave up- I wasn’t defeated in anyway, but instead I did something else entirely:
I actually became a slave.
Admitting that at this point in my life, after ‘living as a slave’ for the last couple of years, seems quite ludicrious. You would think that I’ve experienced slavery on a daily basis and that it would be second nature to me now, but when I really think about it, there’s never been a time when I haven’t had (felt) at least some sliver of control and I’ve been able to look at myself ‘submitting’ in a purely objectional way. Those “wtf??” moments that I often talk about are those exact times when I step outside myself and make judgements.
Looking back at things, there had always been a ‘battle of the wills’ going on somewhere inside me whenever I was required to do something. Whether it be making a cup of coffee or piss-drinking, there was always a part of me that took the order into my brain and processed it, rolling it around until I’d made it mine, accepting it and putting on it my special seal of submission. I chose to do it. And in the choice I gained control.
There were often times that I’d be told to do something and I’d do it- but on my terms, by doing it in my ‘own time’. I’d pause for a few breaths before launching into the action and in those few seconds I’d be busily processing and making the choice. I’d have the control the choice gave me and I was happy inside ‘controlling’ what I did.
All this talk about choice is probably confusing. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve never been able to say no to something. Choice is not something that I’ve ever really had. But the power of the mind is an incredible thing and it allows you to create things that aren’t ever there. I had myself believing that I had a choice and everything I did was, in some way, of my own volition. Until Saturday night that is. That night saw me do something that I would never, ever submit to and I had to be a slave in order to do it.
I guess to put it another way, I was “broken”.
Being naked is not really a big thing in the scheme of things. I’ve been naked in front of a lot of people at various times after living in the country of the communal, and sometimes mixed bath, for years. But that is a very, very different beast to being cuffed and walked through different groups of people on a leash, entirely for the purpose of being displayed. I’ve discussed my hang-ups about my body before and alluded to issues I have with the way I look, but I don’t think I’ve conveyed just how much of a ‘fear factor’ experience being displayed is for me. If I had limits, it would beyond the level of “hard” and be well into the “over my dead body” stage. I don’t do public displays of nakedness. I’ll do anything else, but not that.
There are a lot of things about which I have a high ‘ewww’ factor towards, but they are not things that would rock me to the core if I was required to do them. For some reason, being displayed publically just absolutely horrifies me and pushes all my ‘Danger! Will Robinson! buttons’. I guess we all have our little things and that, dear readers, is mine. Interesting, isn’t it?
It was an incredibly earth-shattering thing for me to be taken to that point of absolute lack of control. I always thought that being “broken” would involve being beaten into my place or something along those lines. Instead, it was much more subtle and before I knew it, I had slipped over the edge. Part of me thinks I won’t be going back to how I was because once the ability to control is gone, it’s gone for good.
Master said to me, “That was a big thing for you, wasn’t it? You’re diffferent now.” and I didn’t really get it at the time.
I knew I was having a problem with something internally, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I’ve been feeling feral since Saturday and while it’s probably a mixture of red plagueness and sub-drop, I also have a kind of pounding churning sensation inside. After the party, I felt like I’d had too much alcohol and had been hit by a truck (even though I hadn’t had a drop) and still now I’ve got a throbbing headache and a feeling like I just want to curl up in bed. I’m guessing it’s my coping mechanism still in over-drive and it will take a few more days to settle down.
But I’m definitely not who I was. It was one of those moments that radically changes your life- a hinge that sets you off in another direction. Now I’m kind of exploring just who this ‘new’ me is. All I can say is I hope we get along.