Totally Fucking Lazy BDSM (Is Love)

It’s easy to get burned out on BDSM, especially if your style is a high-intensity one, like mine is.   If what you’re really into is the flailing whipping flogging chains and wax followed immediately by ripping, ravishing, pounding, ecstatic, transcendent, weirdly religious and transporting scenes with laughing crying biting awe.

That takes a shitload of energy — mental, physical, emotional.

Some days, I tell you pervs — I just do not have the oomph for this.

But the problem with that — and it’s a problem I’m sure some of you have experienced — is that when that intense activity disappears for awhile,  when you guys aren’t *ahem* Doing It,  it can feel like your dynamic disappears as well.

Where did it go?  If nobody’s dominating and nobody’s submitting, are you vanilla now?  Is it over?  Are we through?

A big part of my job as a dominant is to actually connect to what I really truly want.   Not in general.  Not what I think I should want. Not what I think Holly wants.  But what I actually really truly want RIGHT NOW, today.

The problem with that is that I find some of the things I want embarrassing.

In particular, I find them embarrassing when the things I want are low intensity things.

Lazy things.

Totally fucking lazy things.

Tying her up and giving her a thorough beating and making her come until she begs me to stop and then not stopping until she cries?

That’s dominant, right?  Check.  You can see it from space, this dominance.  It’s big, loud, energetic.  Unambiguously dominant.

But what about…what about when I just want to lie in bed and look out the window and trail my fingertips over her skin?

Shit.  What if she gets bored?  How dominant is that, anyway?  It’s sappy! It’s embarrassing.

Sometimes I just get out the flogger anyway, disconnected from my real desire or perplexed by it or wishing it away, or it feels like  the simple things  are more trouble to get than the big complicated ones.

My job as a dominant is this: my job is TO WANT.

And to be bold enough to claim it.

I want.

I want her to strip completely naked.  I want to put a collar on her and clip a leash to it.  And I want to tie the leash to a chair and have her lie at my feet.

I want to sit in the chair and do…nothing.  Absolutely nothing — for as long as I want.

I sip a glass of wine and look out the window, the leash looped loosely around the leg of the chair.

“Bringing only one glass is a very nice touch,” she says wryly.

“What you have, you have from me,” I say, handing her the glass for a sip.

“Are you cold?” I ask.  She shakes her head no.  ”You’re the one without any clothes, so tell me if that changes.”

She hands the glass back and I set it on the windowsill.  I looked out over Kennedy Plaza, people coming and going from City Hall, the transit station, green trees, red bricks, gray granite, black asphalt, blue sky, white clouds.

I exhale and my shoulders sink, relaxing down and away from my ears.

I cross my legs, one over the other, and read for awhile.

I look down at Holly, who seems perfectly content lying naked on the bedspread on the floor, reading Jane Eyre.  I sit, glass in hand, and look down on her, her creamy skin.  The chrome links of the dog leash leading to the leather collar around her neck.  She stretches lazily and rolls over onto her stomach.

I tell you, before that moment I never really felt like I owned her.

Watching her, I suddenly realize that I don’t have to do anything or be anything or swing a flogger or tie a knot to earn her presence.  I don’t have to be menacing or sexy or hot.

I don’t have to do Fuck All.

Because I own her.  Not only will she lie at my feet for as long as I want — what I want IS what she wants.

She belongs.  To me.

[There’s a Part II coming here, pervs.  As you can imagine, getting what you really truly want is curiously invigorating.  In the meantime? Don’t just do something — sit there! Q: I’ve covered Totally Fucking Lazy Dominance here.  So what’s Totally Fucking Lazy Submission look like?

Also!  This post was inspired by Kitty’s post on dry spells, “A Time and Place.“]

 

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