Speaking to a friend, i say, “Oh, my God. If i wrote and posted something that crazy to fet Sir Raven would break my fingers.
And, knowing my goodliest Master quite well, replied immediately, “Yeah. She really would.”
Me: on the phone with another friend….”i think it would be realistic for me to be there around ten am. That will give me enough time to get my chores, you know the morning bullshit…..”
and then realizing that my Master was sitting in the room with me my voice sheepishly trailed off….”ah, um, you know I just mean the morning list,”
and i felt another pang because i quit making lists.
In another conversation:
“What do you mean you stopped making lists?”
me: “I don’t know. I just stopped.”
Her: “Have you lost your mind? Are you testing the waters?”
me: “No. (long pause) i don’t think so.”
Me, speaking to Sir Raven, about someone’s crazy eyes:
“That fucker is scary. And do you know how scary a person really has to be to scare me?”
And then i thought of who i was talking to, her magnificent and ferocious beast inside, the animal i tease knowing full well in the end she will win. Frankly, i want her to-i’m depending on that part of her because it brings out my best. Easily. Simply. i got the idea through nature and nurture.
Fear goes straight to my cunt. i remember understanding early about a bodies response, and my sense of shame got conflated with my sexuality. i didn’t understand this for years (thanks, useless asshole therapists). When i was twelve and hitting puberty, and the sexual abuse came up, i didn’t know that shame is located in the genitals. It makes sense, an easy puzzle piece to slide together. i read the DSM when i was 12, and it didn’t make me feel more comfortable and understanding i was sexually a masochist. i spent a few years worrying that rapes and abuse got mixed up with sexuality and caused my sense of what is erotic. And then i decided that i couldn’t care less anymore about how a switch got turned on inside of me.
The truth is that had i not come to Sir Raven with some lessons already intact like breathing, she would have had to teach me herself. We wouldn’t have enjoyed that little process. It tends to get bruisy and welting and trying to crawl into the wall with me. Just the sound of a belt or strap frightens me.
In the end, it does all serve her, even if we both hate the means. The means of getting here is behind me, and behind us. And that is why she doesn’t want me looking back. She was absolutely right, of course. Seeing the boys, my boys, with all of the light gone from their eyes ripped my soul open.
And if i had obeyed, in the spirit of what she wanted, i’d not be looking for pictures. But i was. And then i had to take time and zoom into their eyes and behold it.
i closed my eyes and prayed for them, asked her family for help, and have to turn away to focus on my Master. That’s what i should have been doing all along. i focused on service, on being consistent, and how clean the house is, if she enjoys her meals. i focused on hiding this gaping wound. This is good, it is as it should be. i’ve grown a lot because of Sir Raven, but it’s time to find a way to honor them in a way that does not take my heart away.
It’s not mine to give.