Moving Forward

It's been a long hard road from breaking up with my ex to now. I'm at a point that I feel that I can move forward. My heart doesn't hurt so much when I think about her. Sometimes though I'll see something or hear something that will trigger a serious heartache, and I know that I shall always miss what we had. For the moment we shared together life was happy and joyful. I will always love her for that. For the pain, frustration, and hurt I've gone through, I hate her. It's been difficult trying to find my center so I can move forward.

Last week I removed the nipple rings that she had me get last May. After the energy session with Colin (see Catharsis) the rings began to migrate. I've never had migration problems with piercings. My PA has always been stable, and my previous nipple piercing was stable for four years before it was ripped out accidently. ( I was cleaning my house and my chest brushed againsed a door edge... yes it hurt like hell! ) My nipples began to get tender as if the piercings were infected. Then I noticed that the one on the left was slowly working its way down. The right side exit shifted from 3 o'clock to 4 o'clock. The ring on the right nipple began coming straight forward. I could see that it was about a guage width (10 guage) forward from where it was originally pierced. It took awhile to make the connection that these were her rings, and that my body was rejecting them. Finally I couldn't ignore the conclusion. They were her rings and they had to go. As soon as I removed them it seems like my whole being felt better. I miss the rings. They were pretty, and they were fun to play with. My nipples feel better though and they're still fun to play with. ;)

As much as I miss my dear Mistress and friend I've discovered that there are other women in this world who are interesting. They're sexy and fun and exciting and down to earth and moody and opinionated. They have wonderful smiles, dreadful pouts, soft skin, lanquid eyes, and beautiful curves. I've met a few of them, gone out on a date or two, and had a lot of fun. I'm still looking for the right one for me. My therapist tells me that there is good news and bad news. The good news is that "she's out there looking for you." The bad news is that "she's out there looking for you."

And I'm looking for her. Someone who loves having me get the first cup of coffee for her in the morning. Someone who likes to cuddle just before I go get that cup of coffee. We finish our morning routines and head off to work leaving each other with a soft passionate kiss. Sometimes I get home first and I get the house ready for you to get home. I want you to be comfortable relaxed as we share the stories of each other's day. Sometimes you get home first, and you're waiting for me to get home so we can reconnect after being out in the world. We'll spend the evening planning our next adventure, our next dinner party, our next play date. Sometimes we just spoon on the couch while we're watching a movie and eating ice cream (Ben & Jerry's or Cold Stone take out.)

I know you're out there somewhere, and I'm looking for you too. Come find me. Much better to return to a warm loving home than a cold empty apartment.

There is always hope that the sun will shine today.
Philip

Catharsis

CATHARSIS

“Catharsis, Latin from the Greek Katharsis 'purification', is a sudden emotional breakdown or climax that constitutes overwhelming feelings of great pity, sorrow, laughter, or any extreme change in emotion that results in the renewal, restoration and revitalization for living.”

I am blessed with good friends. My friends care about me, about my well being. they support me emotionally. With out them I have nothing. This is a story of loss, and how my friends, one in particular, helped me to overcome that loss.

Six months ago my best friend, my wonderful Mistress broke up with me. At first I felt like I was ok with the break up, but I began to miss my friend. I would hope to see her, and when I did she ignored me. It was as if I wasn’t in the room. The last time we spoke she had a couple of things of mine she wanted to return. No matter what I do or say I’ll never be able to tell her how sorry I am that things didn’t work out. In her eyes its all my fault. I have some good friends who support me who tell me not to buy into that, that its all her fault. The truth is most likely somewhere in between, always shrouded by our own perspective.

She won’t talk to me. I sent her a short email. She didn’t respond. I doubt she even read it. I began to read her blog each week just to see what she was knitting. When I left she told me not to call her, that she would call me. When she did call me she told me that she knew I had been reading her blog, and that that wasn’t in the spirit of not contacting her. The next time she called things didn’t go well either. I hated those two conversations. How can you resolve anything over the phone. Looking back on that time I wish I had figured out a way to get together face to face to try harder to find a resolution to our differences. But I didn’t. I began reading her blog again, and I read that she had broken up with me. It was posted in her blog. She wrote that she could “hear me breathing, see my computer’s ip, so get on with my life and fuck off my blog.” That’s the short version.

In defiance I began reading her blog each week. At first I was using a piece of software to hide my computer’s ip, or I would visit from other computers. Eventually I decided that I wanted her to know that I was still reading her blog. I knew she would notice. I didn’t care that she did, I just wanted to somehow stay connected to her. Sheah, I was connected to her. When she wrote about it she wrote that her ex boyfriend was stalking her blog. I knew she would believe that and it was stupid. When ever she wrote about something other than her knitting I would sink into a bottomless fit of despair. When I read her blog that weekend It put me into a pathetic pit of self pity and grief. My friends advised me to stop reading her blog, to think about other things, to get over her already. I needed to do something.

My friend Colin is an amazing man. He is wonderfully cheery, outgoing, and caring. Every time I’ve seen him since our break up he’s given me a big hug and asked how I was doing. At first I would tell him I was ok. Later I would tell him that I was having a hard time. Eventually I said “its hard.” He was always supportive and understanding. The last time I saw him he told me that he would be willing to do some energy work with me, if I wanted. The way I felt this past week I knew that I needed to see him. I needed to have him lead me to catharsis.

I called him through his girl Elizabeth. She called me back on Saturday Jan 28th with the news that they were going to the Lair in North Hollywood, and that Colin would do a scene with me. There were questions for me. How much aftercare would I need? He doesn’t do that, but Elizabeth and Missy would be available if I needed any. What were my expectations? I shouldn’t have any. I should keep my mind open to anything that might happen. Would I need water and food afterwards? A blanket? A pillow?

Aftercare is important to me. It’s a way for me to connect with my Dom/me after being beaten senseless. It’s an intimate moment created out of pain. I would crave it from her just to be close, to feel some tenderness. I told Elizabeth that I would appreciate some comfort afterwards. Despite being told not to have any expectations I expected that I would be pretty cooked when Colin finished with me.

The rest of Saturday passed by quickly and I got ready to go out. I wondered if she would be there, and I wondered how I would feel about that. I decided not to feel anything about her being there, but to be prepared. I dressed simply, black boots, black jeans, black yoga shorts, black tee shirt, and my black and orange Harley jacket with all the porn star signatures on it. I knew that I would strip all of this off later, but for now it was armor. None of it from her or acquired after I met her.

Something changed about the way I was thinking about her on my way over to the Lair. I became very angry with her. I was feeling full of indignation and fury. I blamed her for our breakup. I blamed her for my shortcomings. I blamed her for everything that was wrong with my life. I was wrong. I was still furious, and I gloried in the pain of my anger. It was different from the depression of the week before, it was something I could take action on.

As I drove up I recognized her car parked out in front. She was there. She was there and I was ready for a confrontation that I knew would never happen. I knew that I wouldn’t do anything tonight to antagonize her or provoke her. I wanted to make up with her, but I also knew that she didn’t want to have anything to do with me. She has been very clear about that for the past six months. I was glad that she was here tonight. She always told me that all she wanted was for me to be happy, and she would know that tonight I was doing something that would help me move on.

The Lair was busy tonight. Lots of club kids from Hollywood along with a crowd of regulars. I greeted my friends as I saw them. Many of them noticed my rage, and gave words of comfort and support when I told them what I was going to be doing. I assured them that everything would be all right soon. I began looking for Colin.

My friend Don Sir came over and greeted me warmly. I can’t tell you how much this meant to me. Don is her best friend, and my imagination had run rampant with the idea that I would be outcast from this friend in whom I had found so much trust. I was greatly reassured by his greeting. He asked how I was doing. When I told him it had been a rough week, he told me that it had been tough on everybody.

Elizabeth and Missy were in the kitchen talking with some of my other friends. I went inside to a warm reception. I was speaking to Missy when I glanced at the door. Don Sir and the members of his leather family came into the Kitchen. As Matriarch of the family she was with them. When I saw her she was looking down at the step up to the kitchen door. I turned away. I wanted desperately to gaze upon her, but I didn’t want to antagonize her so I turned. In the short glimpse I had she seemed subdued. Perhaps it was my imagination, but Don had told me it had been a tough week for everyone. They didn’t stay in the kitchen. They were just passing through to the back room. Missy told me to go find Colin. Hug & kiss and I was off.

Colin wasn’t in front or back. I walked to the entrance looking for him and Kane said he was inside. I walked back in and there he was talking with someone. I stood a respectful distance away and waited. He looked over and acknowledged me with a nod of his head. After a moment he finished his conversation and gave me a big bear hug. Lifted me off my feet. It’s an amazing feeling when someone you trust shows you that kind of affection. I felt so safe and protected. He asked me how I was doing and I told him about the anger. “Just let it go mate.” I looked at him, and a silly thought entered my mind. “It’s just that easy, isn’t it,” was my response. I knew that he was right, and suddenly I knew that I wanted to be angry right now. I was taking pleasure from my anger even though it wasn’t serving me. I told him this, and that it felt better than the way I’d felt the week before because the way I felt before was just pathetic. I thanked him for helping me, for being my friend.

We talked about what was going to happen. Colin explained to me that he had spoken with her about what we were going to do. She is his friend also. He explained that he had given her an opportunity to object because she was his friend as well. She didn’t object, and I was thankful that she didn’t. We spoke about where we would do this, and he told me that she may or may not be in the room, that was up to her. It was all right with me. I hoped that she would watch, but I thought that she wouldn’t. It didn’t matter, I was here for healing not exhibition. Colin said to get my breathing under control, wander around, socialize, he’d let me know when he was ready. My response was a quiet, respectful, “yes Sir.”

The Lair was crowded tonight. The room that Colin had wanted to use, the small room in front, was busy. The other rooms were busy also. He asked me if the corner in the main room would be all right. It was with me.

We set up. Colin’s girls put out his equipment, I stripped down to my black yoga shorts and prepared myself for whatever was going to happen.

Colin pulled on leather gloves, and he was ready. He turned me towards him and explained that he wasn’t going to restrain me. “Not for energy work,” he said. “Restraints for when I want to be sadistic.” He wanted things to be fluid, to be able to move me where it was best suited as the session progressed. He asked about injuries or diseases, specifically blood born diseases. I was negative for both questions. No injuries and no diseases. He told me that the only thing he required of me was that I was to let out anything I felt. I wasn’t to hold anything in, because that’s why we were here.

Just one more thing he said. I might feel an urge to strike him. If I did I’d get one shot… Then he said to get up on the cross.

The cross is a well used St Andrew’s cross made of wood and painted black. I stepped up, found my foundation, and grasped the waist of the cross with my hands.

Colin stepped up to me. He placed his hand on my back pressing gently. He massaged my shoulders a bit, he lightly punched the flesh of my back. Nothing hard or painful yet, just an introduction. I focused on his touch and his intention. I stood relaxed. He said he would begin with a light flogging to get me warmed up. I didn’t see him pick up his flogger. I felt the first caress of the buttersoft tails across my back and I sighed deeply. My eyes closed for a moment.

I’ve felt this sensation hundreds of times before. It’s a comforting feeling, I felt safe, my body knew what was coming. Colin’s force increased with each swing. The soft caress became a brutal thud. Pretty soon it seemed as if he was putting all of his weight into the blows, and my back began getting warm. Each lash rocked me forward. I would breath into each blow accepting the force, feeling the pain. Each lash landed across my back with a huge thud. A couple of tails wrapped on my neck with a vicious little sting. I accepted each lash as it came.

When Colin was putting his full weight and intention into my back with his flogger I began to visualize the most loving look she had ever given me. Looking into my eyes, she takes my cheek into her hand, leans forward and softly kisses me. A kiss so tender, so full of love, so full of caring. Could I live without her looking at me like that again. Where will I ever find the strength to move on?

The pounding thuds stopped. I felt Colin’s gloved hand press into my back. Then he began to pound my back with the palm of his hand. He put force into each blow. The force of his blows shook my body down to the core, and stole my breath away. The force of his blows began to uncover emotions that I had put away deep down in my heart, bottled away for so many months. Anger, loss, longing, desire, shame, and regret, the emotions which had tormented me in the quiet of the night when I was alone, were rising up demanding to be acknowledged.

The pounding stopped for a moment. Tears began to well up in my eyes, and Colin began using a new flogger on my back. This one felt like hard latigo leather, very harsh and stingy. The tails whistled through the air and ripped into my flesh. This one didn’t caress my flesh, it felt like it ripped the skin off with each lash. It seemed as if he was flaying my flesh to the bone to reveal my soul. Torrents of tears streamed down my cheeks as the pain inflicted on my back reached inside and ripped out raw gut wrenching sobs. My face twisted in agony as I screamed from a pain more agonizing than anything that could ever be inflicted on the flesh of my bones. The pain of the flogger was pale compared to the pain of losing the best friend I’d ever known. She had cast me out of paradise for my sins, and now my penance was being called in. I collapsed onto the cross, my body wracked with sobs, the sadness in my soul overwhelming. The lashes stopped.

After a moment I heard Colin’s voice telling me to step down off the cross. To face him. Every fiber in my back was raw, my legs shook, I was full of anguish and regret. I stood up straight and looked into the eyes of the man who was tormenting me. They were laughing and full of joy, and in them I recognized my friend. He began punching my chest and my shoulders. Then he slapped the center of my chest and jabbed my gut. The slaps stung, and the punches knocked me backwards off balance. Every time his arm moved I would flinch. Sometimes visibly, sometimes just inside. This was harder to take than the blows to my back. I could see the blow coming. Much more difficult to accept the pain. Seeing led to fear, fear led to resistance, resistance led to flinching, and flinching would lead to injuries. It was very important not to flinch, it was very important not to be afraid. It was very important to trust my friend. I felt naked and scared, Colin stepped in close and jabbed my gut. You need to breath he told me. Breath? I was taking in great gulping mouthfuls of air. What did he mean I needed to breath?

“Its in here Mate, its where you hold your anger.” He dug his fingers into my gut just under my sternum. “You’ve got to let it go.” He jabbed my gut again and told me my anger was in here. He punched my shoulders and told me I was holding my shame in there. “You’ve done something wrong, and you keep the shame in your shoulders.” He stopped hitting me, and began massaging my shoulders and arms. He would take a muscle between his fingers, squeeze, and flick them down. I looked at him. Sweat was pouring down his neck. His eyes were laughing. How could I ever thank him enough for what he was doing for me. “You’re full mate, you’ve got to let it go, you know what you did was wrong.” He punched my shoulders hard, “and you hold your shame in here.” He punched my hard again then he punched my gut. “Your anger’s here,” he punched my shoulders, “your shame is here.”

He took my hands and placed them on my chest. “When you’re feeling shame, I want you to put your hands here, and concentrate on your actions and what you did. Then wipe your hands down and flick away the shame.” He showed me again. He told me that placing my hands on my chest would push my shoulders back and help release the shame. “You’ve got to get your body right, you’ve got to get your mind right.”

Now he punched my shoulders hard. He slapped my chest, he jabbed my gut. The pain was swift and sure. My body bent over wracked again with uncontrollable sobs. My face twisted and contorted in agony as I wailed in pain, in shame, in anger, and in regret. Colin hugged me with great tenderness. One of his girls handed me a napkin to wipe away the snot pouring out of my nose. The sobs subsided. He punched my gut some more telling me to breath. He got close, “breath with me.” He said, and he took in a great deep breath. I took in a great deep breath. He let it out, I let it out. He jabbed my gut, “again” he said. We continued to breath, he continued to jab the anger in my gut at the bottom of each breath. He began to slap my stomach, hard. I flinched hard. Colin pulled his slap. “Don’t do that to me mate.” I focused and tried hard not to flinch. To take what he wanted to give. He got close punching my shoulders again all the time looking at me with laughing blue eyes. I started laughing. He smiled. “That’s it, that’s a better reaction.” My heart felt light, I was beginning to feel whole.

When the laughing stopped he put me back up on the cross. I was feeling well beaten. I grasped the cross by the waist and waited. The tails of the flogger ripped into my back. Searing, stinging, pain waking up my senses. I screamed, and the tails continued to fall across my back striking down to the depths of my soul, and I screamed with each blow. Just when I thought I wouldn’t be able to take anymore there was a pause. “You’ve got six more coming,” and he crossed to the other side. “Yes Sir” I responded surprised at how calm I felt.

The six final lashes came full force, and I counted each one. They must have been harder than the ones before, but I didn’t scream. At least I don’t remember screaming. I only remember counting. After the sixth blow Colin pressed his hand gently into my back. “Now come down and show some respect.”

He sat down in front of the cross and stretched out his left foot. I knelt down in front of him and I put my forehead on the toe of his boot, and then I kissed the leather softly. I felt whole, and I felt so grateful that this kind sadistic man knew how to heal an unhealing hurt. I bowed my head down again and placed my forehead on his boot again. He switched feet and I paid the same respect to his right foot. Taking his boots away he told me to place my head on the floor. He put both feet on my back pressing down. The boots disappeared. I stayed down waiting.

The girls came and got me up. They placed a blanket over my shoulders and asked me how I was doing. I was surprised at how good I felt. I was fully conscious and aware. My mind was clear and lucid, and my heart felt light. I felt no anger, no shame. I felt full of love and kindness. I felt blessed to have such good friends as these.

Philip
January 31, 2006