Thursday, September 9, 2010

The giving of keys

Yesterday, Corvus gave himself over to me. Not in a well-overweiged, intellectual kind of way, but in a raw and instinctive kind of way. What's important to me, now, is that Corvus trusts me enough to let me inside the barriers of his mind. Yesterday was a large step in that direction. What happened was, I made him cry. Or.. More precicely, he made himself cry. He LET himself cry. But I fascilitated that step, and supported him on his journey. His emotional rollercoaster.

We started working in this direction already last Friday. After tying him to a tree and pulling his pants down to his knees, I verbally abused him. This was an expreriment to see if it would make him feel smaller and more submissive, as I know this works well for some people. It was very hard for me to do, because I had to lie. Lie in order to demean Corvus, whom I like and don't really want to hurt. We talked about it afterwards and he told me it had worked... And that he'd resisted me mostly out of stubborness and spite... And that he wished for me to take that path again, a bit further, to pull him down and have him break. He suggested that a mixture of pain and humiliation was what would be needed.

I'd planned to try something like that in any case, but his explisit wish for it to happen made me prepone my plans. ("Prepone", by the way, is the opposite of "postpone". The English didn't have a term for this concept, so English-speaking Indians made it up. I'm quite fond of it and find it very useful.)

So yesterday, Tuesday, he arrived at my place after work. We first had a couple of hours of regular bondage. His leather cuffs were locked him place, so he couldn't get out by opening them, and try all he might he was unable to get out of the ropes. That pleased me. What didn't please me was the amount of wiggleroom he still seemed to have. Need to tie him down tighter next time. He really is remarkably suple and quite strong for a man of his age and build, so I think he'll handle it.

After dinner, I decided to start on the humiliating. I won't go into details, but I used what I know about him and his interests against him. It worked quite well and he was fairly embarassed. I then had him kneel on the couch, arms over the back of the couch, and tied him in place. A rope went underneath the couch, connecting his arms to his legs. A few moments later, his butt was bare and ready for a spanking. I started out light, using only my hand. Once he'd gotten nice and warm on both cheeks, I switched to the IKEA shoehorn. Quite frequently, I took breaks and sat on a chair in front of his face. I tried further verbal humiliation, but my heart wasn't into it. I have real trouble being mean to someone. So instead I switched to praising him whilst making it absolutely clear that he was enduring this because I wanted him to.

At first, he felt so embarassed I litterary had to force his head up and he still refused to look at me. As I continued, I noticed him going through several stages. From embarassed, to confused, to angry. I told him anger would do him no good, that he'd stop that immediatly, and to my amazement that actually worked. He then had another stage of confusion and introspection, before he finally broke.

Tears didn't well up after a particulary hard stroke. He felled the first one while I was holding his head in my hands and telling him what a good job he was doing. I praised him, told him how proud I was of him and how pleased I was that he would let me do this to him. And he broke. If he'd endured much longer, I probably would have given up. I'd still have been really pleased with the day, because we'd pushed a lot of bounderies. But reaching that goal was the icing on the cake, so to speak.

I sat holding his head for a little while, letting him cry. Then I untied him and laid him down on a matress on the floor, his head in my lap. And just sat with him, stroking his head and arms, talking calmly to him, letting him cry. It was wonderful. Truly beautiful and amazing. More so for me, perhaps, beacause I've been there. I knew exactly how he felt, that feeling of cleansing and release. The care, and I'll even use the word devotion, that I felt for him right then.. It's indescribable. Very different to anything I've ever felt dominating anyone. It's comparable, but still very different, from the adoration I feel for a dominant when I'm brought to such a place of tears myself. So in a way, this feels like going full circle.

Slowly he rose from the black pit of tears and agony. I'm guessing we spent 1-1,5 hours getting him there, and another 1,5 hours getting him back up. The aftercare is vital, and I was glad to do it. Not only is it rewarding to be able to hold and comfort him, but it was also quite fascinating. I saw each step as he rose up to the surface, and the parallells to my own experiences as a submissive were clear to see. In the end, he came out clensed. When he'd let go and given in to the tears, he also released a lot of other tensions and stresses and bottled up emotions. The tears were brought on by pain and humilation, but they washed him clean. Just like I knew, or at least hoped, that they would.

How is this different from what I've done twice to Mondage? Well, Mondage wasn't a submissive to me. Sure, he has submissive tendencies, but his responses were not even close to what I'm getting from Corvus. But if I'd met Mondage now, with my current level of experience, could I have built the same kind of relationship? I think the answer is "maybe". We adapt ourselves to the people we're with. So maybe mine and Mondage's relationship could have been more of the dom/sub-kind.. But only maybe. Besides, such speculation is futile. It's water under the bridge. And I don't think it's fair to any of them that I should compare them to eachother. I'll try and stop that from here on outwards.

Once equilibrium had been reached and he'd calmed down, we drove to the BDSM club in the city center. I did some more light bondage while we were there, but only to show him and the other people there that I could. Ever since we started playing that day, he'd worn his beautiful leather cuffs locked on to his wrists and ankles. I had the keys in my pocket, and he had a backup set on his key chain. As we were sitting outside my house and were about to part for the day, I took the keys out of my pocket and wanted to unlock him. He stopped me, and told me that he had several sets of keys for those locks. He asked me to keep the set I had.

What did it mean to him, to give me a set of keys for the padlocks that lock his cuffs? I don't know. We haven't talked about it yet. But to me, it was symbolic. Of what, that is yet up to us to define.

No comments:

Post a Comment