That’s something Master and I hear fairly often. (Of course, we also hear the exact opposite of that, lol, but that’s a whole ‘nother post.)
It’s sometimes said by friends, sometimes by strangers who stumbled across something on Fet or recently read something here. It’s said, often, by people who have just broken up with their latest partner. “I left him because he wasn’t giving me what I wanted. I want what you two have.”
And I think to myself, really? Do you think we started out like this?? Insta-Dom and insta-slave, just add water?
Master and I are in a really good place. We have been for a while now. And it’s great! Things are easy and fluid, we flow with each other, we understand each other, we know each other. Our dynamic is secure, and pretty cemented in. We play and we laugh, we work together, we share, we talk. Sometimes I’m whining about something I think I need, sometimes he sacrifices his needs– just ripples on the surface. Okay, so maybe there’s a wave high enough to surf on now and then (grin), but the undercurrent of M/s remains strong and steady.
If we struggle, we struggle as Master and slave. In past years, if we were fighting to stay afloat, the M/s seemed like the first heavy item to toss overboard. Turns out, we’re lighter and more buoyant as Master and slave.
Unless you’ve been reading here for the last 8 years though, today is what you see. You see who we are now. You see the commitment and the bond, the love and the joy. You see the fun kinky times and the easy banter. You see him, sure of his role, comfortable in his dominance. You see me, mostly as sure and mostly as comfortable.
But we worked our ASSES off to get here.
We fought. We argued. Hell, we even threw things at each other.
I’ve ripped off my collar and called it quits more times than I can count. He’s done the same.
I’ve been convinced that he was doing it all wrong, that he was a shit dominant who didn’t have a clue– and told him so. He’s told me I didn’t have a slave bone in my body and that I needed to stop pretending.
I’ve disliked– no, I hated some of the ways he tried to parent my kids when they were young. He’s insulted me as a mother. We had more fights over trying to co-parent than about all other marital issues combined.
We’ve said thing that were mean, aimed to hurt, wanting to wound. We’ve treated each other worse than we would our worst enemy.
I’ve made plans to move out and move on, so has he. I’ve withdrawn my submission and withdrawn myself, so has he. I’ve told him he was the biggest mistake of my life- and so has he.
There were good times, of course, or we’d have had to be crazy to keep going, but there were spectacularly bad times, too. Hard times. It hasn’t been smooth sailing the whole time.
There is nothing about us that has been perfect all the way through. There is very little about us now that is the same as it was 9 years ago. We’ve dabbled in this kink and that kink, we’ve tried this routine and that routine, he’s used one method, then switched to another. I’ve changed, he’s changed. We’ve tried, given up on, retried, hated, loved, forgot about, discovered– Nothing’s the same.
The guy that I met 9 years ago? My Master, when he was green and new, the guy that I first submitted to? He didn’t want 24/7. He didn’t even want a slave. He didn’t want to micromanage. He loathed the idea of someone asking him stupid things like when to pee or what to eat.
Oh, and he hated sharp things.
The guy he is today? Haha. The guy who dictates my every move all day long? Who gets irate if I pee without permission? The guy who nailed me to a board? Yeah. NOT the same person he was 9 years ago.
He didn’t come this way out of the package, all perfect and amazing and domly and confident. We didn’t get here by chance. We grew, and we sacrificed and changed and gave and WORKED to get what we have. I’m not even sure what kept us going back then. Maybe it was love, maybe it was just a stubborn refusal to quit. Whatever the motivation to try it “just one more time” doesn’t matter now. Because there is no one I’d rather be with. No place I’d rather be. Every single struggle was worth it to get here, to get to right now, this easy breezy coasting in tropical waters.
Sometimes, it seems like people are trying on doms and slaves like they’re out shoe shopping. Slipping into one style of shoe after another, complaining about a rub here or a pinch there, without ever letting the shoe relax and breathe and mold around the foot. Walk around a little while and let the callouses build, let the foot muscles stretch, adjust your stride; a good shoe is worth it.
But what I hear is ‘I want what you two have’ and nobody looks back at the long walk we had to take to get what we have.
I am not “lucky” to have met a guy like him. I’ve got 9 years of my blood, sweat and tears in this. Literally. That’s more than just luck.
We made each other. You want it? Work for it. I did.
Notes from danae: I wrote kaya’s Owner to ask permission to post this because it so resonated with Master and I. We have worked damn hard to get here. We will be celebrating 11 years together in February of 2014. It isn’t easy – it takes work. The work is SO worth it.