I write this on the train, as I travel to a session with Mistress Elita, my first meeting with her for five weeks, though it feels longer. It’s not going to be a normal session and, as they say in the deep South of the USA, “I’m as nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.”
(You may not have known that was the full expression!)
Firstly: the session will be in a BDSM space I’ve never seen.
Secondly: I’m going to be blindfolded in this space I’ve never seen and the resultant lack of any sense of place is going to be disorienting and frightening.
But the third “not normal” aspect of this session is the most disturbing of all: most of the session is not actually going to be with Elita but with a friend of hers, a fellow dominatrix whom I have never met.
I wrote a fantasy over a year ago that put me into a similar situation and I was thrilled by the idea of it; immobile and blindfolded at the mercy of an unknown, unseen Mistress, in an unfamiliar, unseen place. The scene pressed many kinky buttons for me; the fear of the unknown; the non-consensual ‘kidnap’ undertones; the idea of trying to form a connection with someone I could only hear and feel.
Yet as the meeting approaches I find my fear is only partly for the situation I will be in and the extreme sensations that could be involved. In fact, I’m wondering if a different fantasy, one I wrote relatively recently, might be more pertinent. In this a male submissive is taken to a sex party by his Mistress where she shows him off to her fellow Domina’s and they prod and feel him before setting him up to be whipped in front of them. His fear seems to arise not so much from the pain itself but from the desire not to let his Mistress down in the company of her peers. That is how I feel right now.
Though I asked for this scene, I feel that my status in it is that of “Elita’s submissive” and, consequentially, I feel a strong need for her to be proud of me. The flip side of this is that I fear failing her in some way. This fear of failure is a hard thing to admit to myself, kick-arse, alpha male that I outwardly try to be. To take ideas from yet another earlier post, I feel my inner “child” exerting itself, seeking out the praise of Elita’s strong inner “parent.” I felt this parent/child interaction most strongly in our last session, as she comforted me after I broke down and cried into her shoulder.
“He/she can take a lot” is the most meaningless phrase in BDSM. Elita tells me I can take a lot, and may well have told her friend the same thing, but what she probably means is “in comparison with many of my other submissives.” I know that my personal “a lot” is nothing alongside the “a lot” of men in many Femdom BDSM videos I’ve seen on the internet. So, what does “a lot” mean to this other Mistress? I could find myself way over my limits while she’s just getting started.
And that is frightening.
It’s frightening for the potential pain and suffering to which I might be exposed.
But, more than that, it’s frightening because I know I won’t want to let my Mistress down.
And who knows what kind of trouble that thought process might get me into?