My Extreme Fuck Up

I walk on the wild side. I gravitate toward the extreme –- whether it is sex, hot and intensely seasoned foods, partying like a rock star or rough travel to exotic locations.

I’m in service to a Dom who is an edge player –- meaning he likes the more dangerous BDSM activities. He loves to scratch a deadly sharp blade across my body that could slice me open with one false move. He chokes me and alters my breathing. Sometimes he sets me aflame. In other words: he likes extremes.

In a Dominant/submissive relationship, we regularly explore an extreme spectrum of emotions as limits are pushed. The intense highs can abruptly plunge to unfathomable lows. Subs must develop a method for coping with these powerful emotional shifts.

And so I found myself tumble from ecstasy to agony in a random moment, without the proper tools to handle it.

Let’s backtrack to where I left off last week:

“Oh you still have his play collar on from your scene,” I said to G.

She and Sir M looked at each other in some complicit agreement I wasn’t privy to, and neither said a word. Then I realized he was already giving her his collar after only a month or so of training. In my case it took over five months.

The hurt

I thought about this on my ride home. My first reaction was that I felt hurt — it belittled all the hard work I’d done to get that same privilege and made my efforts suddenly seem unappreciated and worthless. Then I felt resentment and anger toward Sir M for changing the rules for her.

I’d been feeling really happy about this relationship and about adding G to our dynamic, until that point.

I found out later that this was just a collar of protection he’d gotten for her to wear to the dungeon so other Doms would stop hitting on her. That was making her nervous and uncomfortable. Even so, I was never given a collar of protection although I had the same experience.

But this collar business revealed some ugly feelings. WTF? I’m not a jealous person… right? But I felt like I’d been kicked in the stomach.

Queen of my domain

I was a swinger for many years. I love sharing my lovers with my friends and vice versa. I get off on hearing my lovers describe having sex with other people, or better yet, watching them have sex with other people!

In my vanilla life I’m secure and confident, probably more so than 98 percent of the population. I’m the queen of my domain.

But in the BDSM world I’m a submissive. I don’t call the shots; I obey orders. In the vanilla world I have goals and benchmarks, measures for success to keep me on track. That doesn’t happen in BDSM training — you either fail or keep moving forward.

As a result of having had little feedback from Sir M about my progress in training  (except if I made a mistake), and the amount of time he took to respond to my petition, I allowed some insecurity to creep in.

What is jealousy?

So what is jealousy really? Anger, fear, anxiety, and disappointment stemming from insecurities I hadn’t acknowledged. I had repressed some of these emotions because I thought it was best for Sir M, but in the end that backfired.

I got ultra emotional and acted out. And it almost ended my relationship with Sir M.

Back to last week’s parting words and the collar incident.

I felt the depression coming on and had a hard time forming a sentence.

“Sir, if you accept her as a sub before you do with me I will plunge into a depression and I can’t handle that.”

“Oh, so it’s a race is it?” he asked jokingly.

“I’m not joking Sir. I can’t cope. If I’m such a failure at this training why should I bother putting any more effort into it?”

He didn’t hug me goodbye and almost didn’t let me kiss his hand, our usual parting ritual.

Feeling six feet under

I could barely sleep. The depression enveloped me physically, like being in a swamp. My stomach clenched in a knot that didn’t release for several days, and I couldn’t get up from bed, I was so woozy and fatigued.

I’d suffered bouts of depression like this around ten years ago when I was going through a rough divorce. I’d found out that it runs in my family. It also seemed to be hormonally related. It had been so many years since I kicked that problem that I never mentioned it to Sir M.

Hate mail

After several hours of staring at the ceiling I finally got up and decided to check my email. Big mistake.

There was an email from Sir M titled “Your Failure.” In it he said that my remarks showed a complete failure in that it didn’t serve him or make him happy. He felt I was attempting emotional blackmail, bottoming from the top and coddling my own ego.

A thunderbolt hit my heart and I thought it might stop.

But I read on. He said:

You had best sit down and consider rescinding your petition to me and then searching for another Dom.  I will NOT put up with your ego, your time lines, or anything else you think you can impose on me.

You do not have to wait to see what I do about g, because you are already failing me, so you might as well consider moving on. I am going to do what I please, WHEN I please, and how I please, and YOU have NOTHING to say about it. 

I was already in a bad state but this paralyzed me. My body went into the first stage of shock. I was despondent. I canceled all plans, spoke to almost no one and hardly moved from my couch for two days.

The road ahead

This journey has been a treacherous road made up of extreme emotions, pushing my hard limits and confronting my worst fears. But I made a conscious choice to put 100 percent effort into my training. I made a vow to myself to do anything necessary, no matter how perilous it might be to me, to serve Sir M, make him happy and bring him pleasure for the rest of his life. I have no choice at this point; I’m so deep in surrender.

And why do we go through these extremes in BDSM? Because it’s exhilarating, rewarding and fulfilling in a way almost nothing else can match.

Sir M and I are working through this and g has been wonderfully supportive too. We all want our charmed triad to be successful. But hard work lies ahead for everyone.