Sadie Gets Slapped

Sensuous Sadie Gets Slapped

By Sensuous Sadie
SensuousSadie@aol.com 
www.sensuoussadie.com 

One evening a few years ago my Master slapped me. It wasn’t all that hard a slap, but it was in the face and I was so shocked, I just couldn’t think for a moment. Then there was a little switch which flipped over, and I sank into subspace with a little murmur.

I suppose if I had thought about face slapping before, I would have said it was out of the question. I would have said I’d slap back. But I didn’t. I didn’t because at the moment it happened, on my knees in front of him, I was freed from my self and invited into the mysterious.

The intense joy of submitting your self to another is hard to describe. In turning over the power, I and Thou disappear and we merge into something more powerful, more vibrant than either of us alone. I yearn for he who can lead me there, take me to the next level. Not another Dominant wannabe who can’t control his own life, much less mine, but a man with power and imagination and confidence.

The beauty in belonging to someone, knowing they are your protector and leader, is a confidence of an unusual flavor. It’s not dependence, the kind which sometimes gets us into trouble, but rather an interdependence which strengthens us both. On the surface it might look like passiveness, but true submission is a conscious, assertive act.

He works with me to help me grow. He recognizes my gift to him. He sees my whole, true self.

In exchange I give what I can in service, in pleasure, and in pain. I wait on him physically and in other ways. I anticipate his needs and fill them. I serve his pleasure without wanting anything for myself. In releasing my own wants, I am freed.

I eagerly accept his control of my pleasure. He allows me pleasure only when I have proven myself and served well, but often not even then because it puts the focus on me instead of him. While pain is simply endured, a withdrawal of pleasure is deeper and more ephemeral, a hard thing to measure. It follows me in the times when submitting is not what’s on my mind; in my office, at the grocery store or at a dinner party. By turning over my childish need for instant gratification, I grow spiritually.

He also believes in regular punishment because it keeps the demarcation straight; it keeps me in line. There are few things in this life so clearly delineated and so clearly appreciated for the gift they are. When I experience pain for him, it is transformed into pleasure. With each crack of a paddle or a crop, another small piece of my own insisting demanding self is released.

At the moment he slapped me, all these things came into play. That’s why I didn’t slap back. That’s why.