My favorite way to end to a long and intense scene is to recline in bed with my lover in mutual admiration. I play for those times when we have both used all of our physical resources and we can share the intimacy that comes with that. It is in those moments when I appreciate the differences in our displays of strength. It is then that my palm can rest on his sweaty forehead and my fingers can slip into his hair, down the back of his neck, onto his shoulders, and then cascade across his arms. His exhaustion is part of a fundamental and animalistic communication. He has shown me the power of his body and his unrelenting focus on mine. When my hands grip at his muscles I am touching an expression of his masculinity.
But SM not an expression of submission for me because I feel that I have responded with incredible feminine strength. I don’t go through the pain, the intensity, and brutality of a scene for him. I do it because I have commanded it from myself. My femininity in that moment does not come from a nurturing maternal nature, it comes from my strength to sustain harsh blows and remain standing. I maintain strong eye contact so that I can playfully and seductively dare anyone to take my place. Don’t let my soft curves deceive you because although my senses may sting and my blood vessels may burst they can still support me and everything else thrown in my direction. How can I be sure that I am strong unless I am challenged? The world is less frightening because I am not afraid to find out what I can withstand.
I don’t experience subspace from an SM scene because I want to remain entirely present. I don’t want to control every sensation because I cannot control everything that exists outside of me. And when he runs a hand down the slope of my waist brushing against the welts and the bruises he can be certain that I can keep up with the rigors of the world and that I am as bold as my marks.
