“Sister Christian”

Thought I’d lure you in with the title!  Who can resist that?

The sheer mention of the Night Ranger classic takes me back to a simpler time…when the biggest dilemma in my life revolved around which acid-wash jeans to wear to school. When my biggest inconvenience was having to fast-forward through the songs I didn’t like on my worn-out Footloose soundtrack cassette.  When my hopes and dreams were as big as my hair. It was a time when my burdens were few.

Life was good.

And Sister Christian was the song.

What a venture down memory lane…

If you will recall, I recently wrote about meeting one of my readers in person.  That may not seem like a big deal to some of you.  For me it was huge.  The fact that I write about D/s along with spirituality, attracts a mixed group of followers.  This particular reader finds herself on a similar journey within her marriage.  So we do have common ground, but within very different contexts.  She is married and engages in D/s with her husband.  Until recently finding the One, my Maestro, I went through men like I went through those acid-washed jeans in 1983…fast-forwarding to the ones I liked.  Thank God, I found Him in the midst of the chaos.  And thankfully I am finding what I seek spiritually, reconnecting with God.

I was initially nervous about meeting her in person.  Like I mentioned before, there is a safety and comfort of writing behind a computer screen…putting your deepest, in my case-darkest, thoughts out there for the world to see.  So the thought of meeting a reader, face-to-face, was a bit unsettling at first…there is nowhere to hide.  This is where the shit gets real.  And it did.

She was an absolute delight.  We met in a nearby restaurant and immediately hugged, like long-lost friends do.  The conversation was non-stop from the moment we got together.  She is a brilliant woman with several degrees, one of which is a PhD in Theology.  How fascinating.  We dished on everything from D/s…to kids…to marriage…to all of the different kinks we’ve read about on here….to spirituality….to business ventures….to health and wellness…to the Bible….to discipline…to healing spiritually…and all the way back around to the subject of D/s.

We eventually went to my house where we could have some privacy to talk in more depth.  We were standing in my kitchen when she asked about different blog characters.  I provided a bit more detail about those she asked about.

She then said, “Tell me where you have found God in all of this.”

Wow…that’s the question, isn’t it?  Where did I find God in the midst of my turbulent descent into BDSM?

My answer, “Everywhere.”  Which is so true.  As I reflected on the question, I realized that He has been everywhere. First and foremost, as my protector…I did some risky things in the beginning, scary things, things I haven’t even written on here, and through His grace, I came out of it safely.  And then He has served as my guide…helping me to discern those who were worthy, from those who weren’t.  Giving me the insight to know when to let go.  And then as a father…forgiving me of my trespasses. loving me unconditionally as I sorted all of this debauchery out.  So in a strange sort of way, God has been the prototype, the example of the ultimate Dom.  Which is completely her line of thought.  She just helped me arrive at the same place by posing the question.

You know, she helped me through a lot things.  And I don’t feel this was a coincidental meeting at all.  I feel that we were meant to meet….meant to be friends.  She is an amazing woman and I have deep respect for her.  I admire her commitment to her husband, to her family, to her faith.  I know I will learn things from her.  I realize that our meeting was yet another one of those God-moments in my life.  Despite her background in theology, her knowledge of the Bible, and her deep and unwavering belief, she was not “judgey” at all.  Like me, she is who she is and she is a real person. She is a person who understands my journey, without critical judgement.  A person convicted in her faith that didn’t try to condemn me for my unorthodox path.  And she didn’t try to convince me to drink the Kool-Aid.  There was no Kool-Aid.  All she was offering was friendship.

And because I felt a sister-like kinship with her immediately, I am sure she understands my choice for the post song.

So my dear friend…my Sister Christian, thank you for the visit.

And many thanks for the gift of your friendship.

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Watching the Wheels

“Watching the Wheels” is one of my favorite songs of all time.

John Lennon died on my eight birthday. I always felt a kinship…a responsibility to remember him because we share a day.  And to me, this is one of his best.

I find this song appropriate as I prepare for my day tomorrow. A few posts back I wrote about a reader who reached out to me as Maestro and I were about to watch Exodus. Her message struck a chord with me as we are on a similar journey…both of us seeking God and enlightenment in our D/s relationships. And tomorrow, I will have the opportunity to meet this lovely woman.

As serendipity would have it, she is visiting a nearby state and is willing to make the drive here to meet me. I have to admit, I am a bit nervous. Yes, I know….I’ve done things far scarier than this that involve a variety of gentlemen and a variety of scenarios. But this is a different kind of nervous. After all, outside of a handful of friends and close acquaintances, no one knows my real identity. On the blog, I am anonymous…equipped with a laptop and a pseudonym.  I can express my thoughts freely.

And tomorrow, I will sit face to face with a reader (who I might add is also sharing her identity) to discuss this tumultuous journey of mine. To discuss the experiences within her journey (hers is a bit different, as she is exploring D/s in her established marriage). To discuss where we find God in all of this. How we seek solace in the guidance and direction of our partners and ultimately in The Almighty.

I am excited to meet my new friend.  I am eager to hear about her journey.  I hope that we are able to glean much from each other’s experiences.  It will be refreshing to talk with someone who sees the dynamic in a similar light as I do.

 

So I leave you with this…

People say I’m crazy, doing what I’m doing
Well they give me all kinds of warnings, to save me from ruin
When I say that I’m okay, well they look at me kinda strange
“Surely, you’re not happy now, you no longer play the game”

2015: A Space Odyssey

Where do I even begin?

The New Year started with my mother’s passing.  She had been in and out of the hospital and in various nursing centers for the last two years.  While she declined suddenly, she was at peace and I feel she was ready to go.  I was there with her, as I wanted to be.  She birthed me into this world, and I was there to help her transition to the next.  It was a beautifully painful journey.

Maestro insisted on being here for me, despite the fact that because of previous work obligations, he could only stay for the weekend.  So he drove the seven hours (one way) to get here that Friday night and then turned around on Sunday and drove back.  What a wonderful man to come all that way to console me.  To help me make arrangements.  To be there for my kids.  He took me to the cemetery to select a final burial place for mom.  He took me to find her a suit.  He took me out for a fantastic lunch.  He took me to the grocery store and bought my food for the week.

Maestro also took me somewhere else.  He took me on a journey to sub-space.

If you will remember, as I have alluded in several posts, that I am a cynic.  I am a skeptic.  I don’t see the glass half-full, or empty.  I don’t even believe that’s really water in the glass.  So the concept of “sub-space” seemed like the proverbial unicorn of D/s.  I’ve read a hundred posts recounting the details of this state of nirvana.  But I have always been skeptical.  I have experienced immense pleasure.  I have had moments that were so intense, that I felt I could almost lose consciousness.  But I had never experienced that level of euphoria.  This entirely different category of bliss, called “sub-space”

I had never experienced it until that night…that Saturday night.

We’d had an exhausting day making last minute arrangements.  We were all tired.  Maestro was tired from driving half the night, and then shuttling me around for the day.  I was tired from spending four sleepless nights in the hospital with my mother prior to her passing.  The kids were tired from their schedules being topsy-turvy with different sitters.  So I figured we would have a little “alone time” and drift off to sleep.  Boy, was I wrong.  And I should realize by now…never make an assumption when Maestro is conducting the orchestra.

There’s always time for another concert.

The kids were asleep and we were on the sofa watching TV.  He pulled me close to kiss me.  His kiss was long and passionate.  I could see the look in his eyes.  I knew he wanted more of me.  He wanted me then.  There.  On the sofa.  He began bringing me to the edge, when he clutched a handful of hair and said, “No, not yet.  Not until I tell you.”

He instructed me that I needed to gain his permission before climaxing and that I must speak the words he wants to hear, once I am given permission.  He taunted me some more. Finally, I begged him to allow me to release.  He stroked my face.  Looked into my eyes. Smiled at me.

And then he said, “Now.  Cum for me now.  Look at me.  Tell me.”

I looked into his large hazel eyes and said, “I love you, Master” as I came unglued in the ecstasy of the moment.

I could tell he was pleased.  He stroked my hair and said, “Very good.  Now let’s move to the bedroom.”

Once in there, I showed him some of the items I’d recently purchased to add to our collection of fun.

There was a new paddle.  Leather and imposing.

New nipple clamps.  Adjustable for comfort…or discomfort.

A new collar.  Black leather, with a silver, four-letter word…describes me perfectly when I am with my M.

And a new flogger.  Nice handle.  Black suede.  Short tails.

I didn’t think we would do much with the items, since it was so late and we were both spent.  But once again, never make an assumption when it comes to the Maestro.

“Hand me the collar, please.”

I handed him the collar and brushed the hair away from my neck.  He fastened it quickly and checked for comfort.  Tugging on it, he was pleased with the fit.

“Now hand me the flogger and paddle.  Get on the bed.”

I readied myself for the first blow, but he never does what I expect he will do.  Instead he got into the bed and called me over to him.  He held my face and kissed me, stroking my face, my breasts, my neck.  Feeling the collar with his fingers.  I was so turned on at this point that I reached down to stroke him.

He grabbed my wrist and said, “You don’t touch me until you have permission, understand?”

WHOA…..That was so hot.  I forgot my manners and said, “Yes.”

A sharp tug on my collar quickly reoriented me.  “Yes, Sir.  Yes, Master.  I understand.”

He stroked my cheek and said, “Now show yourself to me.  Give me access to all of you. On your knees…facing away from me.”

I did exactly as I was told.  I could feel his hands on me.  I could feel his fingers exploring me.  On the outside.  On the inside.  All over my body.  All under his control.

“Who do you belong to?” he would ask.

“You.  I belong to you”

“Good girl.  Now I want you to pleasure me.”

I quickly did as he asked.  I absolutely love giving him what he wants.  I love to worship his body as it should be worshipped.  Focusing on him.  Hearing his approval.  Feeling him encompass the inside of my warm mouth.

He told me to lie on my stomach.  As I faced towards him on my stomach, I could see that he had something in his hand.  I couldn’t tell what it was, as the room was dark. In a moment’s notice, I felt the sharp sting of the flogger across my backside.

I moaned in delight.  He was swift in his delivery (I could tell he had done this many times before) and I found myself writhing in pleasure from each thud.

As this went on I became more and more responsive.  I was almost in a frenzied state.  Each blow was atonement.  Each stroke was release.  Each hit was me letting go of all of the pain I’d just experienced with my mother.  Each sharp recoil was pure release.  I found myself close to the edge again…knowing I needed to seek permission.

“Please….please.  I am so close.”  I begged.

“Not yet.  You’re not ready. On your knees facing me.”

I faced him on all fours.  He once again, held my face and kissed me.  Plunging his fingers deep inside me, he brought me to a place I’d never ventured to before.  I felt explosion and release instantly.  I couldn’t contain myself, the release was everywhere.  I collapsed onto the pillow and began recounting this life-changing experience.

I wanted to call someone.  I needed to tell someone.  This humored him and we shared a few laughs.  I mean who do you call at 3:00 in the morning…to tell them about the incredible night you’ve had?

So this was my sub-space.  This was euphoria like never before.  This was me floating….

And I forgot an important detail about sub-space…I forgot about it’s ugly cousin, sub-drop.

In an instant, I was shaking.  Shaking out of my skin.  And the tears.  The ones I desperately hold on to. The ones I don’t share with anyone…they began pouring out of me.

I wept.  I have never cried like that in front of anyone before in my life.

And my Maestro was right there.  He wrapped me up in his arms and wiped the tears away.  He talked me through it.  And for the first time in my life, I let go.  I really, honestly, wholeheartedly…let go.

He was there helping me to do it.  Helping me cope with all of the emotion.  All of the pain.  All that needed to come out.

I fell asleep in his embrace, a changed person.  A free person.  Not held by chains or weighed down with baggage from my past.

I was safe.  I was secure.  I was free.  I was his.

I understand that it is he who makes me whole, boldly going where no man has gone before…

Space, the final frontier.

Ahhhh…until our next voyage, Number One.  Till our next voyage…

“And I’m going to be high as a kite by then…” 

50 First Dates

I have a feeling this post will be cliché-laden.  I apologize to those readers who loathe the overused cliché, but it’s all in good fun.

I began this reflective post prior to the New Year as a summary of my experiences so far…but a family crisis prevented me from writing much more than the title.  (More about that will come in a later post)

So here goes….

“You’ve come a long way baby”

This journey started out as a venture into the exploration of Dominance and submission.  I honestly wanted nothing more than a simple romp in the hay with a man in charge…in control of himself, able to direct and control me.

So let’s reflect on those who were nothing more than one-hit wonders…those not worthy a repeat performance….or worthy of anything other than a mere play-date.

You know, “you never get a second chance to make a first impression.”

“At the end of my rope”

There was Don Knots…the fact that this boy scout was into tying knots more than he was into me, was a sign that I needed to do a better job screening my suitors.  But we all have to start somewhere.  Guess I started at the bottom, on the bottom, as the bottom…literally.

“An apple a day, keeps the doctor away.”

Then there was the good doctor…”Dr. Pierce”.  He gets the award for the most awkward date ever.  EVER.  But I did enjoy myself on the trip to his little corner of the world and I learned quite a bit about hockey.  Yes.  You read that correctly.  Much of our date was centered around his view of a televised hockey game.  And I can now say that I have experienced a piercing.  Even if it was with Sheldon’s twin.

“Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”

There was the over zealous firefighter.  Never had a play-date and feel like I dodged a bullet there.  I could feel some serious stalker tendencies and I likely would have ended up tied to him for longer than I wanted.  With no escape.  Nice guy.  Just wrong guy.

“Sharp as a marble”

There’s Opie.  I know I haven’t named him before now…pure vanilla.  Pure waste of time. Not worthy of a test drive around Mayberry.  Not the one.  Not even close.  Not the droid I was looking for.  Bless him.

“Missed the boat”

There was the Captain.  Such potential there…but not what I was hoping for.  Reminds me of a NFL draft pick gone wrong.  Had all of the credentials, but just fell short when it was game time.  I bet he is his own worst enemy.  Another nice guy, but not a Dom at heart.

 

Now onto the next group…

“Business at hand”

Marky Mark and I had one playdate…however, we found that from a business stance, we were exceptionally compatible.  So we channeled our intensity into some creative business ventures.  We continue to be friends and I have immense respect for him.  And I will admit, we had a great time…but we are far better as business partners.

“Your father wasn’t a glass maker”

There’s Father D.  Kind man, but just not Dominant enough for me in the way I need it.  He was too controlling for my taste.  I think he would fare better with a younger woman who looks to him as a Daddy.  I just couldn’t go there.  Not with him.  I feel certain he will find the right fit.  She’s out there…I even helped him build his online dating profile.  Wish the best for him.

“Yanking my chain”

There is The Natural/The Seeker.  Our time together was his first foray into the lifestyle.  A quick-study, he looked to have incredible potential.  I had great sessions with him.  We seemed to connect on every level, but the conversation fizzled the farther we went.  We ran out of things to talk about.  Looking back, I now understand why he was limited in communication.  He was in another relationship and had not been honest with me.  Which is the reason I let him go.  No trust…no play.

“Good fences make good neighbors.”

The Goodfella…Henry Hill.  Even though we never sealed the deal, we became good friends. And when I turned to him for advice…he never steered me wrong.  And he is Ray Liotta’s twin when he wears a business suit.

“Hope springs eternal.”

There’s Hemingway and Billy the Kid.  On opposite sides of the age spectrum, these two fellas were gents in the true sense of the word.  Both brilliant.  Both successful.  Both incredibly fun.  Both served a great purpose in my life.  I realize that they were getting me ready.  Preparing me for something bigger.  Something more.  I was able to explore a deeper friendship with these two and it allowed me to be open for the One.  Through my connection with them, I realized that I (the cynic) could open my heart to the right One.

“You live and you learn….”

There’s Ike Turner.  I hate to waste space even mentioning his name, but it needs to be written.  Ladies (and gents alike) listen the little voice inside your head that tells you something is wrong.  Don’t try to rationalize.  Don’t overlook red flags.  I was lucky.  I was able to learn a lesson with minimal damage.  There was far more that happened on that Sunday in July than I shared.  Maybe one day, I will put it out there, maybe I won’t.  But I learned from it.  And I am stronger and wiser because of that wrong turn.

“Baptism by fire…”

There is the one I call Sir.  The one who helped me understand that what I sought was more than just play time.  That what I really wanted had a purpose.  He helped me see the spiritual side of D/s, which led me to begin writing this blog.  It led me to see things in a different light.  We have lost touch over the last few months.  Wish him the best.  Our limited time together was pivotal in directing me on this path.  Peace be to you, Sir.

And there’s the title to this blog.  Some of the BDSM purists initially overlooked my page because of the title.  I’ve gotten some serious flack for it.  But being in marketing, I couldn’t resist the opportunity.  I felt like giving the blog this title would open it up to a larger audience….which it has.  And I do feel that I have been saved.  I am humbled by the number of followers and views I’ve received in this past year.  I do hope that my readers have gleaned something from my experiences.  

So that’s not 50 first dates, is it?  No, not quite 50.  But all of these encounters.  The good. The bad.  The ugly.  The hysterically funny.  All were leading me to the One.  So 50 first dates on 50 Shades of Saved led me to One Amazing Man, my Maestro.  I can’t wait to continue chronicling our journey towards the enlightenment we seek together.  So I will conclude with this…

“A good man is hard to find.” I am thankful that I found my Maestro.

He found me “in the nick of time.”

And “the times, they are a changing.”

Stay tuned readers…”there’s lots coming down the pike”  (hee-hee)

(Here’s a cliché for what is on the way…“Space, the final frontier”)

Happy New Year.