Open up your eyes and realise.

Open up your eyes and realise.

If you are searching for a story full of surprises and what all can happen between a submissive and a fetish lover than you are at the right place! Read below to unfold the mysteries. What realization hits hard the submissive in the end?

Sometimes something happens that opens your eyes to whole new train of thought.

One of these moments occured during my first session with CST. I met him through Alt when I lived in Dorset during the first time that Sir was out of contact, following his accident. We had kept in touch as friends on Fetlife over the years that followed and then, when the dust had settled from DrS and I was needing some kind of kinky release we started to discuss meeting. I did my research, being part of the wider scene meant that I had more people I could check in with about his reputation. Everyone said he had been safe with them, learnt as much as he could beforehand and came up with a highly detailed scene plan which they had been asked to agree to.

It started with a call, to verify each other, and we swapped details so I could find him, he knew where I was and I would have a safety call that would have his number too. B was asked to be on hand so I could call when I got there, and check in again early evening, and again later in the evening. Then (as I was sleeping in the spare room)  when I had left in the morning.

Time to nail down the detail!

I had been cleansing for years, but he has a huge fetish for enema play, and we decided that this is where we would start.

I also wanted to explore my interest in water sports, pain and have plenty of orgasms.

I knew the safe words I would use and the way the day would play out.  Everything had been discussed, negotiated and planned. On paper it all worked, and we had a very satisfying session of cleansing, impact and subspace, but those orgasms wouldn’t come. Until the following morning when I held my wand to my clit and he used a cat on my thighs and breasts.

There were a number of reasons for this.

The first being that all of the excitement had been planned out of the scene. I will be forever grateful that he took such care over our first play session together, but it led me to understand that what I want and need out of play is variable, depending on who I am with. There was also a surprising imbalance in our expectations, something that hadn’t been discussed pre-scene.

What would I call him?

We had enjoyed the enema play, and I was feeling suitably relaxed, and filled (with a generous plug) then I was taken to the spanking bench and restrained. Then he started the flogging and asked me a question. I don’t remember what it was but the answer included his name. He became quite menacing at that point, came closer and said “Yes please…what?” and I repeated myself, not realising what the issue was. “Yes please Sir” he barked at me.

Now, at this point I lifted my head and the blindfold came off.

Meeting his eyes I shook my head and stated “I can’t call you that, I wouldn’t mean it and I don’t say things I don’t mean.” I remember watching him inhale deeply, digesting what he was hearing. It was then that we both realised we had missed this part out of our discussions, and I would not budge. He took it well (I guess it was either that or play would end) and we agreed that I would call him by his initial. He still signs off text messages in this way to this day. The rest of the impact session was exactly what was needed. I was marked and my skin was singing. I felt alive, energised, sparkly.

And when I was floating six inches above the bench and became incoherent he released me, guided me to the sofa in his lounge, and covered me in a blanket. Bringing me a glass of water, a cup of tea and the apple from my requested aftercare items. When I was able I called B and then we ordered Indian takeaway, watching a film while we ate. Soon after I took myself to bed and had the kind of deep sleep that follows intense pain scenes. The following morning I was woken with a Doxy in my hand and a request to make myself cum which he beat me. Then he pissed on my welts before I showered and took myself off to a rope munch. Sharing my marks with good friends as we tied with each other.

So what was my defining moment?

I had always assumed that I was a submissive, 100% submissive and that to be better I should be able to submit to everyone I trust. True, I had spent many months exploring kink without submission in a public setting, but this was either in part of a dynamic of sorts, or with friends to explore different sensations. I still thought that to be a proper submissive I had to match the expectations of the dominant in a private scene. I had felt uncomfortable with this with MS, and H, the submission was missing. But the masochism remained.

I had been with CST less than 3 hours when I realised that as a masochist playing with a sadist I wasn’t engaging in power exchange. What was happening with CST was different. And just like that I knew that I wasn’t a bad submissive because I couldn’t submit to just anyone.

Submissive me thrives on the control Sir can exact over me, I don’t know anyone else who has that skill. And while masochist me is always happy when His control involves pain that isn’t a vital part of our dynamic. What is important to me is his enjoyment and so I try very hard to fulfill his desires.

But for others… I just want to safely indulge in the receiving of pain. I need to know that they are enjoying it, and trust and friendship will strengthen this, but it is a one dimensional exchange of energy.

I’m a submissive masochist rather than a masochistic submissive.

And with that realization I found a peace in my kinks in a way I didn’t realise that I needed.

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