Dear Abbies: Fuck.

My posts have been so sexual lately. Not that I am surprised, really. But, it would seem reflection is in order. I am twisted now. Wretchedly twisted. That post, that On Exacting Pain post, was true. All of it.

B and I play together, erotically. And it's hot; he's so strong and composed. He knows how to control, to contain; he's really fearless that way. But, that said, with all this play, and with all these stories, and with all the possibilities, I am left wanting for something different, as well. Punishment. B can't understand this. He tries, harder than I could ever expect him to. He can't punish me; he doesn't understand the place you punish from...the sadistic, exacting, enduring place. He couldn't hurt me for the sake of exacting punishment for sins; he is full of forgiveness. He realizes my humanity and would feel awkward calling me on deficiencies, inadequacies or limitations that he, himself, has had. He doesn't understand that his own fallibility is irrelevant.

Maybe it's all naughty_one's spank horny energy, or her spank-o-fest (damn her!!); maybe it's something else. Maybe it's the way that Sir can reduce me, can remove all my opposition by simply insisting upon it. I have wanted punishment lately. I am pushing hard in every direction, taking risks that are dangerous, saying questionable things to questionable people. I want limits and I want them enforced.

Today, I was late to meet Sir; I wouldn't say I was that late, an hour and a half, two maybe. It was late for him, and he waited, but his mood was foul. He has a habit of punishing me in other ways; he looks for buttons and when found, pushes and pushes hard. If he thinks he's found one (which may or may not be the case), he is not hesitant. If I recognize what he's doing, I am quick to manipulate him. This makes him angry. But I am good at manipulation, really good. It frustrates him to have to undo what I have done.

He would be angry that I have written this. He finds me to be presumptuous and assuming; he thinks that I should stop trying to read him. I can't stop that; it's how I hold my own barriers in place. Perhaps this is why it is so irritating to him. I think (and I am presuming again) that he is a pompous ass and does not want to feel 'figured out' (I say this with immense admiration and adoration) by the likes of me. [bubbles and blossom...this gets back to him and you're both D.E.A.D.] He wants to break down my barriers without addressing his own. Perhaps I should be a good little submissive and let him win this, let him have me without me having had him. There are so many contradictory messages in that last sentence.

But what is a good submissive? And furthermore, can I be that? I don't know how not to deflect, to avoid, to build higher and thicker, to dismantle. I am desirous of this empty-headed space where I can give it all to him and let him help me find a way out of myself. But when he punishes me, and I mean punishes in terms of detaching and disconnecting, it is harder for me to stop doing this. I hate the distancing. I want to fix it; I only know how to give, and give endlessly.

I want to learn to take. I want to learn to let him pace and plan, deconstruct and rebuild. I still am working on the trust that it takes to do this. Tonight, Sir told me of a girl he had begun fucking. He made such a big deal the other night about what I intended as a 'passing comment' that I knew this could not have been meant that way. He was looking for jealousy. My knee-jerk reaction was to slap him on the back, "Awesome. Right on. Fucking finally!" He was non-plussed. I was jealous, of course, but I am not about to give him what he wants. No way, no how. Protect, protect! But when he was disappointed, I felt like I had failed. I worried that he would think I didn't care, that I was glad his attention was on someone else. But how to say that now? How indeed. Sarcasm of course.

"Oh, you fucking ruined my life. I adore you and you are out fucking some other broad. Woe is me."

You can imagine this made it worse. Now, it seems that I am making fun of his pushing, that I am being condescending. This clever game we play, checking and countering each other, each afraid to be bested. Was I not agreeing to be bested when I began this? Did I not agree that I would submit to his will? Where is that line? Where does my Dom end and he begin? It would be argued that in this situation, my Dom never ends, but that's not me. I am not capable of not desiring to give back, to help him in return.

I could wax philosophic incessantly on this subject, but my clarity will continue to degenerate and the questions become so much larger and paradoxically, so much smaller. For tonight, I will end. Sigh.