I don’t know if he knows it when he does it. It’s hard to tell. Does he see how his influence, how his authority, settles me, calms me, focuses me? Brings my chaos under rein, brings my crazy to heel; tames me?
Flying, whirling, a chaotic angsty mess I am this evening…
And all unplanned he is there. I am bouncing, bouncing, careening off the walls, off the insides of my brain. Earlier I had thought, “A beating, please. Beat me into silence, my head into acquiescence. My head is filled with noise and I can’t find any peace. Please hurt me, please bring down into that small quiet space where there is no thought, where I do not ping, ping! so loudly.”
Usually when I need this, when I ask for it, it is a physical need, a desire for the release of endorphins, for the quiet/soaring euphoria, but this…
This was different.
I am always in control of my world. Even when I choose what looks to others like chaos, like too much, too fast, too MUCH, always I have a grip on it, always I have the lead line.
I like it that way. It energizes me. It makes me know I am alive, that my life is my own, that I am not simply bobbing on every stray wind that comes along.
But. Too much lately, too much and I am overwhelmed, bouncing and struggling and nearly drowning. Suddenly out of control, feeling buffeted and twisted and turned. Grasping for a lifeline. Desperately seeking something from outside to bring order to the chaos.
A beating would not be the panacea. A beating would quiet me, would bring stillness, but at what cost? I have to be sharp, I have to be in control, tomorrow and the days after there is only me to make sure everything goes right. I can’t allow the luxury of two days of fuzzy thinking, as much as I want it, as alluring as that thought is (please, please beat me into quiet…!) But no, that is not to be, this time it is me that doesn’t want it.
But I am still unsettled. Still bouncing and gasping and trying to find a way to still my own chaos…
And then he is there.
There is no beating, there is no play, there is nothing physical. There is just…his quiet authority. “No,” he says. And “Yes. Do this, not that. Do it this way. This is okay. That is not.”
And everything settles inside me. Quiets. For the moment, the noise inside my head is quieted.
I breathe. I sigh.
He isn’t telling me anything I don’t already know, he isn’t telling me to do anything I wasn’t doing already. But I needed that…whatever it was…from him.
I needed him to be The Boss. I needed his gentling hand, his calm authority to guide me in the chaos.
And that is my version of D/s.
Yes…I can get the endorphin part in the S/M play we do (and am damn glad and grateful that I do.) But that…that calming, guiding influence…that is the dominance the submissive in me needs. Craves.
And I don’t even know if he knows it when he does it.