My Dearest Austin,
This weekend was difficult for you as you teeter between teenager and adult. You were correct that your crimes were hardly matters of national security. You indulged in a small degree of underaged drinking, but you were responsible and didn’t drive nor did you let your friends drive, and I took the cane to you.
I hope Ryan clarified it for you, or we will be doing this dance several more times, and you are not a boy who needs harsh punishment. You were frightened when the cane struck your skin, truly frightened with no erotic arousal to shift the pain toward pleasure. You hated me for a moment, and as a teenager, as the boy next door with no submissive tendencies, you had reason for hate and fear, but you are my submissive, and you must humbly accept all that I give you—pain or pleasure. I was being deliberately harsh and perhaps even cruel. I know the bite of cane strokes delivered at that force. I believe in young people’s parlance that you felt as if you were “going to fucking die” as you lay over the desk with your cheek pressed into the wood. I saw the whiteness of your knuckles; I heard your cries, and I held you until you stopped shaking. It is an experience I hope you choose not to repeat. Blade flirts on the edge of masochism; you do not. You want to submit; you don’t want to brutally suffer.
You suffered because you chose to disregard your submission. That is your choice, my boy, submit or suffer, and I am not unaware that the very act of submission can sometimes be suffering. Submission is not only submitting when you choose, when its convenient, or when it makes you sexually aroused. Submission means yielding when every fiber of your being begs to do something else. True submission is finding pleasure or at least satisfaction when it is difficult. I will at times forbid certain actions or require certain behaviors merely to remind you that you gave me such authority and you must obey. I am not a part time dominant, and I will not tolerate a part time submissive. Submission when you choose is not submission.
Submission to me is not merely about me guiding you or mentoring you with the addition of physical force. Submission is not, as Ryan derisively puts it, about eating peas or doing homework. As your dominant, I may choose to use force and coercion to punish unhealthy or unwise behaviors, but that must never be the primary reason. If you were a teenage boarder, I would have had a few words to say about last weekend’s folly, but physical punishment would have been wanton cruelty if not a criminal offense. I hit, and despite all the pretty euphemisms it is hitting, because of the dance we do as dominant and submissive, not because I am older, wiser, or purely know better. Often it will be a form of pleasure for both of us. I enjoy the warm flesh under my hand; I enjoy the flinch and buck as my hand strikes tenderized skin; I enjoy a boy crying at my feet. I enjoy watching a boy give me his pain. For the submissive, there is pleasure in the rise of gradual heat, the abandonment of self to me, and the knowledge that your dominant comprehensively knows you and shares his most secret self with you. I was and never will be a submissive, but I have submitted to Gordon and felt the sting of correction as well as the indecipherable satisfaction and pleasure than can come from such a transaction. I ask much of my boys, and in exchange I will try to provide for your needs and desires. I will protect and shelter you; it is my duty as your dominant. It is your duty to follow my strictures and if they become impossible to speak to me as an adult and to negotiate with me, not defy me.
I know you watch Sheldon and the games he plays with me. These are games and not open defiance. Sheldon needs the context of minor naughtiness to mask his desire to go over my knee. You are more direct in your needs, and I can force Sheldon to be more direct, but his pleasure is less, and we both enjoy the game. He understands my words and my body language and will step back from the precipice of open defiance or accept the harsh consequences if he does not. Sheldon, even more than you, my cub, loathes and dreads true consequences. Occasionally his need to feel the darkest side of my dominance. We both know we must occasionally unleash the side of our personalities that makes us least proud, and we head down the path toward those horrors. Neither of us climb the trail from its depths unscathed. Sheldon abhors himself and his folly the minute the path is set, and I am not a dominant who easily forgives myself and my reactions when creating real terror and real shame on the face of my boy, but at those moments he needs me at my harshest so he can forgive himself, and I must fight my own private war against the most sadistic side of my nature.
Austin, my cub, real punishment requires real acceptance and real forgiveness of self. This weekend is finished, a notation in the ledger as an important lesson, but not to be dwelled upon or resented. Hopefully your understanding of yourself and your submission is deeper than when we started. I know I walked close to your breaking point and stretched you to limits you perhaps preferred not to find, or at least not so soon, but this is always a complicated dance, and sometimes we may step on each other’s toes. You are a good boy, and I am proud of you.
With love,
Milton
No comments:
Post a Comment