New Limits

There have been so many things I've asked for, and so few that we've actually done, because he knows me better than I know me.

Until this weekend.

Now that the medications have left myHim's system, he's back to being the lively, alive, dirty, dirty man that I remember and have wanted.

One day, I might tell you about the months of tears, arguments, and sadness that accompany sex drives that are not on the same page. That being said, I'm sure that many of the advice columnists out there have answered questions regarding the problem. That being said, no offense to those columnists, but were it so easy when love (and finances) are involved.

I've always said that I gave up my ability to say, "No", with myHim, and that still stands. He's more careful about such things in general because the repercussions are so much harsher for him, and I can only imagine the recriminations I've receive.

So.

The other night I openly begged to be slapped, because I love the feeling, and generally he does it with one hand cradling my jaw and the other applying the pressure. Something must have come over him that night because he slapped me so hard, numerous times, that my jaw hurt the next day. I now have hand prints on my left cheek and have been fortunate that I can stay home while I heal. It's strange to see myself with marks so visible. The prints on my lower cheek. The bruise along the bottom of my lip. The mark above my eye. I loved every minute of the pain, and I do love wearing his marks.

Still...I'm reminded of a past relationship where there was much unconsentual violence, and I wonder if I am one of those who tries to work through trauma by re-creating it with some control. I don't think so, intellectually speaking. This was years ago; I had it out with this partner, and I've worked in DV shelters which helped me really understand the psychology and cyclical nature of that kind of control. But how can I not wonder? Will more of experimenting with the kinds of love that I crave quiet that voice?