Roxy took these pictures in April, in my basement. Â I realized last night that this was the last time we played hard together, no wonder I’m so keyed up about this coming weekend.
They are playing the mindfuck game very well. Â Yesterday Saynine started a new round of mindfuckery with a twitpic of ginger and the comment: Â “thinking about @butchtastickyle”
And I kind of went off for a bit, got all freaked out about figging and everything. Â It doesn’t even matter if he actually does it, the mental unhinging has begun. Â Between Saynine’s threats and Roxy’s assurances that I can back out of it any time, my brain’s a mess of contradictions.
My ass is pretty sure it doesn’t want to burn in ginger hell for any length of time.
My mind is trying to work out the angles: Â how bad will it be? Â can I handle it? Did I bite off more than I can chew?
My heart aches to feel Her love, Her smile, Her pride in me.
My pride is as stubborn as ever, telling the rest of me to buck up, we can do this. Â No fucking way we’re backing out of anything, no way we’re not taking every challenge.
MyÂ competitivenessÂ is pissed off at any sign of weakness, whining or worrying.
MyÂ submissivenessÂ is trying to sit quietly and wait. Â Sub me is joyful at the opportunity to prove itself to Roxy and Saynine and the world. Â It’s also worried that we won’t perform well, worried we’ll shame our Sir.
My over mind is intrigued and interested in what we’ll learn about ourselves by going through this set of mental and physical challenges.
I worry about stupid shit, like how my body’s going to look exposed to a crowd of strangers and online friends. Â I’m trying not to let myself think about what their expectations might be, considering my expectations are already enormous.
During this morning’s bike ride, I was remembering why I do this, why submission is attractive to me. Â I almost wept with emotion remembering how it feels at that point in the scene when I fall away and i am only in the moment. Â That’s what I do this for. Â OK, I love theÂ competitivenessÂ and the challenge and the chance to take more than a lot of people would ever contemplate, but that’s a top layer. Â That layer is also where I over think, doing the Type-A thing. Â The real goal is under that, the space where I’m disconnected from all of that planning, analyzing and strategizing that dominates my waking (and a lot of my sleeping) moments. Â A vacation from the uber-mind, that’s what I’m really going for.
My emotions are all over the place today. Â I’m excited to be with Her, so much so that I feel like a pile of metal shavings straining toward her magnetic pull. Â I’m thrilled to be going to Folsom for the first time, in the company of my beautiful, amazing Sir. Â I’m scared, excited, nervous about the scene with Roxy and Saynine, to the point where puking seems like a reasonable response. Â I’m almost weeping when I imagine myself in Roxy’s arms, my wonderful Sir petting me and telling me wonderful things that seem impossibly beautiful to be about me. Â The bliss of that moment is worth the price of admission.
She assures me that She’ll be proud of me, no matter what and I believe her. Â I just hope I can be proud of myself. Â And I’m really looking forward to that blissful space where my brain disengages and lets me revel in the beauty of service. Â I want to get to that place where I am an object, a thing, a possession, something to be used, valued and adored. Â And the paradox of all this is that when I come out of it, I will very likely be proud of myself, not because I defied the Doms, not because I didn’t let them break me, but because I did break and as a result of that, became more wholly me than I’ve ever been.
Happy HNT, yâ€™all
To see all the other HNT posts for the day, go toÂ Views from the Back Row, from whence the HNT goodness has come.
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