I love the continual newness of this all. The new sensations and emotions that come in from left field, sometimes like an explosion of light, sometimes like a warm glow on the periphery. Its not about getting off, getting off is easy (I've been doing that since I was 13, ok, 11) its the intoxication that comes bubbling through my veins.

     I love pushing her limits and seeing the mental gasp that breaks across her face as an almost physical change ripples through her core and she implodes at my briefest touch.

     I love feeling it myself even more, when She holds my will in Her hand and caresses it a moment before she swallows it down like cool water and makes me, for a moment, an extension of her desire, and then I crumble for Her.

If self-awareness could be made tangible, it would be the electricity from heart to hand, hand to crop, crop to bare flesh and there to subconscious and back, instantaneously. It is that feeling of utter, distilled intimacy, that breathless wanting that's left to feed upon itself and the osmotic consuming of 100 nightmares and 100 fantasies.

     When I came home I found the “All Tied Up” sign hanging from her office door. This is Her signal that She's in the mood to “play”. I glanced at the clock to note the time, I knew She had heard me come in and one of Her rules was I had 30 minutes from the time I saw the sign to be ready to serve Her. Ready means freshly shaved, nails clipped, scrubbed clean and stripped, kneeling in front of Her office door with hands clasped behind my back and eyes lowered in submission, waiting. I had thirty minutes, She, of course, had as much time as she wanted. She could even change her mind depending on Her mood, She is, after all, Ma'am.

     This time She only kept me waiting 15 minutes or so and my knees were grateful. She came out and inspected me from top to bottom without saying a word. I kept my eyes lowered, looking at Her without being asked to was considered defiance and met with harsh punishment. Once she was satisfied She went back to her office and returned a moment later with my collar, placing it firmly on my neck without ceremony. Then She walked over and sat on the couch and opened a magazine. After a few minutes and without looking up She spoke for the first time.

      “Crawl over, kiss My toes until I tell you not to.”

       I quickly did as she said, kissing each toe individually back and forth for several minutes. She seemed oblivious, flipping through her magazine.

      “Go put the kettle on, I want tea.”

      I crawled into the kitchen (another rule was once collared I crawled unless told otherwise) and put the tea kettle on to boil then crawled back to Her side and waited.

      “Report.” She ordered. This was when I told her how I did that day regarding Her standing orders. I told Her of my early morning meditation, my progress on writing and my mostly healthy lunch and then explained that today was shoulder, triceps and chest workout day and I would get to it when She was done with me.

      I felt her eyes on me for the first time, “Good boy, maybe you deserve a treat.”

      I simply murmured “Yes Ma'am.” and tried not to betray how happy Her words made me. Being over-eager annoyed her. At this point the kettle began to whistle so I crawled off to get Her tea. When I returned She was back to her magazine.

      “Get the oil and massage my feet.”

       I did as ordered and took my time, gently yet firmly urging the aches of Her day out and into my own hands. I could feel Her relaxing in my hands and smiled to myself. After some time She put the magazine down and had me wipe the excess of oil from Her delicate feet.

      “Its time for your treat.” she said, pulling a leash from behind a couch cushion and attaching it to my collar. She led led me into the bedroom and ordered me onto my back on the bed. She took her time restraining me spread-eagle then blindfolded me and without a word left again.

       I'm not sure how long she was gone, the anticipation racing through me played tricks with the time. When I heard Her return I felt myself tremble a bit. She crawled onto the bed and straddled my face, I felt the heat from Her thighs and inhaled Her divine scent.

      “Lick me, gently. Do it how I've trained you or you'll be punished.” She whispered, then as if to emphasize the point the slapped my inner thigh with her crop and I gasped.

When I returned from my shower she was where I left her, on her hands and knees on the coffee table, a thin towel her only cushion. The carpet muffled my steps and she was blindfolded; she had unconsciously relaxed the muscles in her back and shoulders. She had come a long way, though her discipline still waned on occasion, but this trait was often the hardest for a submissive to truly accept. I stood for a moment observing her body, the thin legs and pale buttocks, her delicate pussy lips almost hidden beneath and between, the subtle curve of her hips, her small breasts hanging over her sensitive ribs.

I chuckled under my breath in anticipation and she gasped and tensed back to her original position, the one I'd left her in earlier. Her head snapped back, accentuating the curve of her spine, she thrust her breasts out and perked her ass up as she'd been trained. I walked to her and gently rested my hand on her lower back, I could feel her almost flinch.

“Relaxing?”

“Sorry, Sir.” she said in her meek voice. I could feel her trembling, could almost see the cocktail of fear, adrenalin and anticipation rush through her.

“What do think your lapse is worth?”

“Ten, Sir?”

“Twenty it is.” I agreed, “I'll let you choose the means.” I continued, already knowing her choice. She had admitted once that my bare hand felt the most raw and intimate.

I have heard it said that switches aren't authentically into power exchange, that they are dilettantes or dabblers. This is my refutation. I won't even go into big picture, philosophy of life stuff (that being we each must walk our own path in life, that our choices do not need the approval of the world, so judgement of another's style is petty and irrelevant).

     All I can write about here is my own experiences and feelings, which is all that anyone can do. When I read someone speaking as the all holy expert on high regarding any subject I can't help but immediately dismiss them as arrogant fools. So with that said, this is only my experience, no more or less valid than any others and fully subject to change as I walk my own path and learn new things.

     I know that to kneel before a Goddess, to worship the divine feminine is intoxicating beyond belief. My gift to her of my submission is a powerful thing and our mutual agreement that her pleasure take precedent is a wonderfully simple method of eliminating all the usual conflicts in any relationships, well, most of them anyway.

     I know that the rush I feel as a lay a firm and guiding hand on a submissive, feeling her bend to my touch and my whim, is like nothing else in this world. I know that the responsibility of domination is not to be taken lightly and the payback in devotion and obedience is a pure thing.

     I know that from either side, the trust and intimacy I feel is unlike anything I've experienced in any vanilla dynamic. With vanilla relationships, what I've felt mostly is the toxic, under-the-surface power struggle. Perhaps she'll put off returning my call or I'll blow off plans, neither of us realizing that these behaviors are subconscious ways of asserting some bit of control over the other. Both of us trying to indicate that we're not all that into the other, a way of keeping him/her off balance and trying to win the other's approval through subtle manipulations. When I read singles ads and they say they're not into playing mind-games I chuckle, because my experiences tell me everyone plays these games without even knowing it. We're only capable of picking up on other's little tricks, never our own.

     That's the thing I love about D/s, we're bringing the usual bullshit out into the light, we're saying, OK, there's a power dynamic going on here, you take the power and I'll submit to it willingly, happily; or I'll take the power and the responsibility that goes with it. The trust required of both parties is immense and the resulting intimacy is just as incredible.

     I know that there are some true dominants and submissives out there, but I think most of us tend to have both sides within us, just in varying degrees. It's simpler to catagorize people in terms of absolutes, but like most things in life, the truth is somewhere in the middle.

     For me, I'm often reactive. When in the presence of a mostly submissive woman, my dominant side surges. I find myself taking the lead, naturally. I'll hold her gaze until she has to look away, I take the initiative, in short, I allow my personality to expand, filling the spaces between us. When around a very dominant woman, I find myself deferring to her, unable to hold her gaze, looking for things I can do for her. In neither case is my behavior planned, usually I'm not even conscious of it until after. Being tapped into those energies, the ebb and flow of human connection, is its own rush.