“I ask that you keep an open mind, and don’t focus on labels. You will learn alot.”
“Can—” he started to ask me something but stopped. I waited patiently and quietly for him for gather his thoughts. I could see that his nervousness had increased because his leg started to bounce and his hand was splayed out over his stomach. So, I knew the question was an importantone.
“Take your time, Ryan. I’ve got all day to spend withyou.”
“Can a guy submit?” he asked quietly. I watched the lump move down his throat when he swallowed hard. “Or be a bottom,thing?”
His mind was moving and following a gut instinct that he’d avoided or never understood before. He’d known that he’d been missing something in life. He’d ached for something. He was scared though, maybe terrified of those thoughts. He glanced at me and then his focus went everywhere but on me. I waited for him to look at me before I continued because he needed to see the sincerity in myeyes.
“Mostdefinitely.”
“But, does that make them apussy?”
I hated the fact that Ryan associated weakness with the word “pussy.” That’s all he had been led to believe. He’s thirty-five and had been living with that association. Showing emotion, meant he was a pussy. Crying, meant he was a pussy. Needing something, meant he was a pussy. I despised hisfamily.
“No, Ryan. Not in the least, but please listen to me. I understand that in your childhood, you were led to believe weakness equates to being a pussy. A pussy is a delightful part of the female body. One to be devoured, pleasured, caressed, respected. A pussy is not a man who shows emotion or expresses a need. Do you want to know what that’s called?” He nodded quickly. “Brave.”
More pieces fell away from the uppermost part of his fortress that he had built up around himself over the years. I saw it in his eyes; he wanted to believe me. His eyes searched my lawn and pool, as if they held the answers he was desperate tofind.
“Will you be able to fix me?” heasked.
Fix him. More conditioning. He’s so used to hearing how bad or fucked up he is, that he actually believedit.
“Strengthen, yes. I will help you with your self-confidence, but Ryan, there is nothing tofix.”
“Can…can you hit me again? I really liked it. It made me feelbetter.”
I could see the desperation and pain in his eyes, and as much as I had wanted to relieve that, I couldn’t carry out an impact session with him today. Yesterday had been his first beating since his youth and he dropped from it. He needed a few days to recover; physically andemotionally.
“Ryan, your mind and body need a fewdays.”
“I can handle it. I’m not a wimp. I can take it.Please.”
So many years of conditioning were wrapped up in him. At least he hadn’t used the word “pussy.” I knew this would be an ongoing battle with him, but I hadpatience.
“Not today,Ryan.”
He hadn’t challenged me again. He knew that was the final word on the matter. Ryan spent the afternoon with me and after we had lunch, I took him back to my play room and showed him some more floggers. He touched them and felt all of the falls. He asked questions and absorbed the answers. When he spotted my flogger with the ball bearings falls, he inquired about it. I removed it from the wall and let him examine it forhimself.
“I bet this hurts alot.”
“It does. It leaves some exciting marks.” I didn’t want his mind to run away from him. “It’s a remarkable flogger for just the right pair. This tool—” his muffled laughed made mesmile.
“Sorry. You saidtool.”
Thirty-five.
Ryan cleared his throat and murmured, “Pleasecontinue.”
There was something about his personality that I admired. His ability to laugh and smile reminded me that he felt comfortable in my presence. And that made me feelwonderful.
“As I was saying,” I began to say and jostled his shoulder. A content smile that touched his eyes appeared on his face.Interesting. The simplest touch was like food for his soul.“This tool should only be wielded by an experiencedperson.”
“What kind of pair would be good to use this?” heasked.
“There could be many,” I drew out my explanation so I could formulate it without the use of labels. It would have been much easier to say a ‘sadist and masochist,’ though. “There are people who need pain to be fulfilled.” I watched him closely to see if he understood or struggled with it. He was quiet while he touched the ballbearings.
“Like, a bottom could come to me and say they needed to feelpain?”
