This is going to be a long post. It might ramble and it might mention some things that might make people uncomfortable but I think I need to talk about it so that people know where my head is at sometimes.
This is not my first experience with M/s. My previous marriage was also built along M/s guidelines although it didn't start out that way. I met my first husband when I was 14 and he was 18 and we dated all through high school. My final year, we got engaged and when I was finished college we got married.
I had always felt leanings towards M/s. Growing up, I remembered seeing old Conan comics with a front cover that depicted Conan on a throne and (usually) a woman on the ground or the steps in front of him. Clearly, he was the conqueror and they were the conquered. I loved the Slave Leia scene in Star Wars. I watched Clan of the Cave Bear much younger than I likely should have and I always found myself identifying with the woman, the property. The slave.
Then, together, my ex and I found M/s. Our marriage started out with more BDSM stuff involved than there was M/s but in the end, that's where we ended up. It was hard making the switch. There were details that needed to be worked out and the changeover was fairly gradual. There was always lots of physical discipline involved. In the beginning, at least, things were good. Yes, he was always incredibly possessive. Yes, he was always very easily angered but he was also a lot of fun.
Over time, though, that changed. There were a number of things that could have caused the changes to happen. My ex is military and he went on a couple of tours. Some bad things happened and that altered the way he saw the world. He got... harder. Angrier. I think that he felt like he couldn't control what was happening around him when he was over there so when he got back here, he needed to control every little detail in his environment. Sometimes I could live up to that but most of the time I failed. And that made him angry.
When he got angry, I ended up hurting. He couldn't remember what he had had for breakfast that morning but he could remember that I had forgotten to arrange the coffee mugs the way he wanted or that I had taken longer than he wanted to finish all the laundry. Or that I put a toy away wrong. Or that my bedside table was messy.
My discipline took many forms. Often I had to sleep on the floor. We had a closet that was large enough for me to curl up on the floor so that is sometimes where I slept. I was told to put a ball gag in when I slept one night even though my nose was stuffed up. I guess I couldn't breathe in the middle of the night and the ball came out so I got punished for that too. He liked it when I cried. It got him hard. It got him off. There was no safe word. Well, we had one but it never did any good. Sex was never comfortable. He never gave a shit if I came. And, at the end, he told me he could only cum if I was crying.
I tried very hard to be good. I identified as a slave and this was how slaves were treated, right? It didn't matter if he was away with the military. If I was told to whip myself until I bled and then lock myself in the closet I did. That was what one did when one's master was away especially if one didn't want to have anything worse happen.
He hurt me. I stayed. Part of me liked it. Part of me thought this is what I was made for. Part of me doesn't consider it abuse either. It was simply part of an agreed-upon relationship dynamic.
Finally, he left me. He came home and we woke up in the morning and he told me we were over.
Then, he raped me.
At the time, that isn't what I called it. There are parts I don't remember. I do remember him sending the kidlets out to play and then taking me upstairs. I remember wanting to connect with him one more time as my husband. What I got was something very different. I know I blacked out for part of it but I do remember one kidlet knocking on the bedroom door while it was all going on and him telling me not to move. I remember him answering the door and giving the kidlet money to go to the store and buy milk. And then he finished.
He was large and he liked anal and he didn't want lube. I know that after I was bleeding and I continued to do so for a few days afterwards. It made things awkward. I also thought he had ruined me for anal sex and possibly for normal bodily functions. As I sat in the bathroom after and bled and cried, I remember him telling me that that was the way he liked it and that for the longest time, he had only been able to climax if I was crying.
I've had a lot of baggage to unpack. My ex was very much into dehumanization. Its taken a while to work through that. Before, there was a certain amount of micromanagement and a LOT of punishment if tasks didn't get completed. Because this was very much a formative relationship for me, it has been hard to shake the feeling that I am not a slave if I am not being micromanaged or treated like a dog or a piece of furniture. Shit like that creeps around inside your head and pops up at the worst times. I've also had to get used to the idea that a person can be very much in control even if they are calm and quiet rather than yelling and agitated.
Luckily I have Master to help me through it all. He accepts that there is a certain amount of conditioning still there, some of my choosing and some not. He knows that I still have to unpack certain memories and attitudes and that I am working through it as quickly as possible. He is also helping me keep the attitudes and beliefs that are beneficial while getting rid of anything counterproductive.
It might take a while and the road may not always be smooth, but the trip (and what waits for us at the end) is well worth the time and the effort.
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