Tragedy in the form of death often serves as a reminder of the fragility of life. So too do major life events like getting laid off or being diagnosed with something nasty. Natural disasters like the Tsunami that struck Japan not so many years ago had that effect on me. COVID has most likely had that effect on many. These are all negative examples, but often happy moments, happy events—the graduation of a child, a promotion at work, can all trigger the same emotion.
I would describe this emotion as a feeling of wistfulness, of nostalgia, of things that could be, or might have been. It is a beautiful feeling, though tinged with sadness, and one that hangs around me like fog, some days dense, others just dewy like in the mornings, but it is always there. While it is tinged with sadness for me, it is also totally and utterly anchored in beauty. And it takes very little for me to be triggered and end up in this emotional state. The site of a beautiful woman, her eyes, the arch of her brow, her collarbones, the curve of her waist as it leads to her hips, the taut, expectant beauty of her breasts…
You might ask what has a beautiful woman got to do with a tsunami…and I would forgive you the question, because I can’t answer it myself. Both of these things conjure up in me a respect for the beauty, preciousness and sanctity of life. We fight in this world to protect beautiful things. I respect that I was given this male shell that I don’t want, to represent the brutish side of humanity, and that my role is to fight for beauty, to respect it, reward it, and protect it. But I can’t see it without feeling all of these emotions at the same time. And these are the same emotions that I feel when I contemplate joy and when I contemplate tragedy—how fragile it all is, and how beautiful some parts of it are.
I have had many reasons to contemplate my own mortality of late, and this has meant that I am triggering in and out of this feeling several times each day. While it is beautiful, it is also draining. What I am finding is that the only antidote for it is to let go, to forget, to let someone else lead, to submit. And I find this feeling only at the hands of a Domme. In truth, she need not do anything. Being in her presence is enough to trigger an outpouring of feeling which captures all of these diverse sensations. And she catches them and channels them and harnesses them into the things we do together. Afterwards, coming back to her in the present, is like swimming to her from the depths of the sea. And when I surface, I can breathe, can relax, and feel free again.
Being with a Domme has this curative effect. There is no BS, no artifice, just naked, raw, self, and the experience of intense sensation and emotion. Both of these things are purgative and life-affirming. There is nothing that frees more than this.
While I have much to learn from D/s, and in truth am only taking my first baby steps into this world, I have the most tremendous awe for her ability to tap into these emotions and to work with them constructively. I have no idea where these feelings come from, why She is the one, why D/s seems to work so well for me, just that they feel so right. And oddly, it is that she is a professional that makes her safest to me—her level of experience, her range, her ability to understand, and the simple fact that she can hang up her spurs at the end of the day somehow brings out the best in me—more than I might dig up if she were my partner. I am just guessing on that, but I think it is true. Whoever said that Sex Work was not a higher calling needs to have their head examined. I have never met more enlightened, sweeter, more decent people…and find that all that I have met have a much stronger moral code than the rest of us.
God bless D/s and especially my Mistress.
Beyond Non-Binary 