Control. Isn't that a lovely word? I get all goose-bumpy just hearing it in my head. One of the most seductive things about BDSM for me is that it creates moments where I feel completely safe. Giving away control allows me to experience that safe place in lovely, intense, frozen moments and in the underlying hum that accompanies a power exchange relationship.
I think that the best way I can describe how control works for me is to tell you the story of the batons. There are two batons in the big silver toybag. One of them is a steel ASP baton and the other is an antique wooden nightstick. They are both without question, symbols of control, but my responses to them are astonishingly different. If the metal one is run over my body, I instinctively stiffen, pull away from it and my heart starts to pound. If the wooden one is run over my body, I relax, breathe deeply and if it stays in contact with my body long enough, I begin to cry.
Why the difference? Both responses are responses to control. The metal baton is designed to be used for no other purpose than control by force. That's kinda sexy, but it isn't the kind of control that I crave. The wooden nightstick on the other hand has an energy (yes, yes, I know, touchy-feely stuff) which comes from being carried for years and years by someone whose job it was to protect. What I feel when it touches me is that protection. When it presses against me, pushing me firmly against a cross or post or wall it is saying 'someone else is in control and you are safe'. When I feel that, it unleashes a floodgate of emotion, relief and release, hence the tears.
So, the batons are a microcosm of the larger scope of control in the relationship. What I really mean when I say 'take control' is 'make me safe'. What I feel is an enormous, unending exhale. The limits of the control are less important than the spirit of the control, his faith that I will give him enough control to keep me safe and my faith that he will do so.
abi