Not literally, what’s love got to do with it…the movie.
Remember that movie? Tina Turner…Ike Turner? Ring a bell?
“If you play with fire, you will get burned”
Here’s a new pearl of wisdom…
“If you play with a sadist, you WILL get hurt.”
In the BDSM world we refer to things like: hard limits, soft limits and boundaries. Limits are meant to be pushed.
Boundaries are not. They serve a purpose. They are there as the outline/framework of the person’s inner being.
They are not to be challenged.
Safe, Sane and consensual is the motto, right?
I arrived a few minutes late for the play date with Bond yesterday. And being punctually-challenged, I already knew I was in for some punishment. I was a bit nervous, but I knew it was coming and felt ready to face it.
Face, being the operative word.
When I walked into the room, he came from behind the door and pinned me to the wall. I am beginning to understand this is his MO. He asserts domination from the moment we are together. I welcome that. I embrace it.
What happened next was not on the agenda.
He slapped my face.
The sting of his hand hurt me, but what hurt beyond that….he crossed a boundary with me.
I was specific in our first talks, that there would be…under NO circumstances, hitting of any kind in the face. He tried to challenge it in the beginning with saying a light tap on the cheek would be all he would do, etc.
I was unchanged in my decision. No hitting on the face at ALL. No tapping. Nothing on the face.
So once I got over the initial shock, I attempted to verbalize my feelings. He didn’t give me a minute to. He shushed me and we began kissing and moving towards the bed.
When again, he slapped my face. Before I could say or do anything, I began to weep.
This was his ultimate goal. I am not one to cry in front of anyone. He told me I needed to cry for release. To let go and trust. (Trust…isn’t that an interesting word)
He had vowed to make me cry during our session. I guess I just thought it would have been with needles in between my toes, or a plastic bag over my head.
This was a real slap in the face (no pun intended).
This was degrading. This was humiliating. This destroyed every ounce of trust I had in him. This was my boundary.
He blatantly trampled it twice in a matter of minutes.
As we went further in our session, I tried to block it out of my head. I tried to be in the moment, but I kept coming back to the betrayal I felt.
At first, I was not going to write about it. I was going to give him a pass. I was going to hit the reset button and move on with our relationship. I was going to stay hidden behind the shame.
But that is not me.
I may be a submissive, but I am one tough bitch. And no one hits me in the face.
So i write this to the other subs out there. Your boundaries are your boundaries. Never let a Dom or anyone coerce you, convince you to change or willfully cross over a boundary. Regardless of the dynamic of your relationship, don’t allow yourself to be treated that way.
I expected to have an afternoon with James Bond and our new friend, Chrissy, (who was not able to make it).
Instead, I had an afternoon with Ike Turner.
Not my bag. I am not in to humiliation and degradation. He obviously is. So, he is not the one for me.
And even during all of this I had a revelation. After all, I seek spirituality in my BDSM journey. We always have the TV on to block out the “noise” from the room. Guess what was on?
The Devil’s Advocate. The movie where Al Pacino plays Satan, himself. I am not saying Bond is Satan…I am simply saying that I see him taking me in a direction, in which I do not wish to go.
So I close this chapter of my journey, leaving British Intelligence behind me.
Onward and upward.
Keeping Calm…Carrying On.
To Mr. Bond, I bid you farewell with a little ditty by your fellow countryman, Sir Paul.
“If this ever changing world in which we live in, makes you give in and cry…
Live and Let Die.”
Cheerio, cruel bastard, cheerio.