Backed Redux … Chapter 11

The longest drive I would ever know continued. By the end of the first night, we had made it to Denver. Rather than drive through the night again, Seth agreed to stop at a small hotel that looked like somewhere Norman Bates would have called home. I was aware of every sound that every insect made outside. I heard cars arrive and neighbors enter the room next to ours at 3 a.m.
 
By the time dawn approached, I was more than ready to leave though it took a constant flow of caffeine to keep me going. We continued to talk sporadically about this and that. Sometimes it was personal tidbits, sometimes it was songs on the radio that spurred an interesting memory, or we would talk about which ones were particular favorites. This time we actually agreed as often as not about what was good and what wasn’t.
 
We made fun of disc jockeys and local advertisements, and marveled at the scenery. The mountains during the day were a revelation. They looked like a movie set or matte painting, almost too breathtaking to be real. Unfortunately, they were gone too soon and we were back in Nebraska.
 
“It’s just as boring as a passenger,” I remarked.
 
“At least we can take it at 80 miles an hour,” Seth said. “Imagine trying to cover this much ground in covered wagons.”
 
“No thanks,” I said.
 
Just then, the station we had on took a request for a song from Depeche Mode. “I wish I would have caught on to them sooner,” I said. “But I was so sheltered I didn’t even hear Master and Servant until I was an adult.”
 
“Nobody in my neighborhood would have been caught dead listening to them,” Seth said. “It was either rap or heavy metal around me. They were considered …” he flapped his hand around, searching for the right word. “gay, though that wasn’t the word anyone would have used.”
 
“Of course not,” I said. “What about now? Do you still hate them?”
 
“I never hated them,” he said. “I just sort of ignored them.”
 
“I’d love to talk to their songwriter,” I said. “See how kinky he is and what he’s really into.”
 
“Other guys,” Seth said.
 
“What difference could that possibly make to you?” I asked. He shrugged silently. “Anyway, I’m also betting he’s a bottom. And I don’t mean any of that as an insult. I mean that as a woman who not-so-secretly wants to be topped by him.”
 
“When was the last time you were involved in that scene anyway?” Seth asked. I told him my toy bag had been sitting around untouched for about a year and he was visibly surprised. “I thought that scene was a bigger deal for you.”
 
“It’s tough being single and broke in that community,” I said.
 
Seth nodded. “I can see that,” he said, his voice trailing off. “New York’s got to be pretty active though, right? Seems like a shame to be so close to it and not be involved.”
 
I felt like he was trying to talk me into something but make whatever it was sound like my idea instead of his. Either his attempts at reverse psychology were getting less subtle or I was catching on faster. But I highly doubted he was genuinely curious about the New York City kink scene. “I don’t know,” I said. “I would still be single. And I’d be starting over without knowing anyone at all. I’m pretty sure I’d feel out of my league in a place that big.”
 
Seth nodded again. The wheels were definitely turning. I just couldn’t quite tell where they were going. “Do dominants and submissives have to be romantically involved?” he asked several minutes later.
 
“Not at all,” I said. “Lots of times, it’s about pure service or meeting each other’s needs or n… whatever.” My speech slowed as I realized exactly where he was going. “Everyone has their own reasons. What are you suggesting?”
 
“I’m suggesting a possible solution to our arguing. The way I see it, you need someone to tell you what to do, and I really like telling you what to do,” he said.
 
As his words sunk in and I searched for the proper response, he grinned and continued. “I told you to be careful calling me ‘Sir’ back there.”
 
It certainly wasn’t the worst thing I’d brought on myself this week. In fact, I warmed to the idea quickly. But the doubts appeared just as fast, as I thought about the theory that submissives need to have power in order to give it over to someone else. The high-power executive who is a submissive in other aspects of their lives was a stereotype for a reason. Only I didn’t feel like I had any power. I explained this to Seth.
 
“You’ve made choices, Dani. And you’ll be making more as we go,” he said and stopped. “I mean, what am I supposed to call you now? Lucy?” I nodded, still not used to the new name myself. “You’re here because of those choices and that has to count for something.” He had a point, but it still didn’t quite feel like the same thing to me.
 
Further, although part of me wanted to leap at this opportunity and dive right in, I was also hesitant. There had to be a flaw, and I was determined to find it. “There has to be something wrong with this,” I said. “Some reason it’s a horrible idea.”
 
“I don’t know what,” Seth said. “At the very least, won’t it mean less fighting?”
 
“I’m not sure that’s a good enough reason to enter this type of relationship,” I said. “It’s more complicated than it looks.”
 
“Oh, so we finally found the one thing you can take seriously,” he retorted.
 
“You know what – fuck you,” I said. “What we found is the one thing I can teach you about, and you want to use it to control me. No, thank you.”
 
“So much for less fighting,” he replied.
 
“You’re not even planning on sticking around very long – what would be the point anyway?” I asked.
 
“Does it have to be long-term?” he asked.
 
I knew far more about the theory of power exchange – or D/s – relationships than I did the reality of them. I’d been in exactly one for any amount of time, and that break up had led to my leaving the Cleveland community. “Ideally. For me,” I told him.
 
Seth glanced over at me to gauge my response. I had already started to calm down. “Tell me how this works then,” he said. His tone was gentler than his words.
 
“It depends on the people involved – their goals, what sort of structure they want, etc,” I explained.  
 
“We have a lot of Nebraska left,” he said, indicating the road in front of us. “And this is obviously important to you.”
 
Actually, it wasn’t. Not anymore. First and foremost, I was a masochist. I could eroticize certain types of pain – in the right context. What had first drawn me, however – eight years prior – had been fantasies of someone “forcing” me to do all the things I couldn’t bring myself to do on my own. Controlling how I dressed – if I was allowed to at all, when and what I ate, whether I orgasmed – 
 
In other words, things that only worked in porn.
 
The reality had proven to be far different. And while I had explored depths I hadn’t known existed, and discovered truths about myself I never would have otherwise, nothing had turned out the way I had expected it to. Ultimately, I had been left disappointed.
 
“Look, these relationships crash and burn far more often than they work out,” I said.
 
“Oooooh, now I understand,” he said.
 
“You don’t understand anything,” I insisted. “You have to agree on rules. Or whether you’re going to even have rules. Whether you’re going to include punishments. I mean, D/s sounds easy – one person gives over a certain amount of authority to someone else – but it’s way more complicated than that.”
 
“I’m sure it is,” he said. “But just because someone – or multiple someones hurt you – doesn’t mean you can take out their shortcomings on me.”
 
“Alright,” I sighed. “But this is one more big, new thing – one more potential new thing at any rate – that I’m not sure I’m ready for.”
 
Seth nodded. He looked like he might want to comfort me, reach out a hand. Something. But I might have been projecting. “Now that’s understandable,” he said.
“Having said that – ” I hesitated to admit my next thought. It would only lead to trouble, I was sure of it. “I’m curious what this might look like with you.”
 
With any luck, such a relationship with him would feel supportive, help me develop new, healthier habits. If we did it right.
 
“Well, I don’t know anything about it, and you clearly do,” he said, and indicated the vast nothingness in front of us again. “Why don’t you explain it – start with the basics. Like I said, we have time.”
 
I thought back to when I had been new and every introductory class I had ever attended. It all felt like common knowledge now. Explaining it to someone who had previously dismissed the entire community was going to be a challenge.
 
“Can I ask why you’re interested now?” I asked. “You never were before, so if this is just about controlling me, or keeping tabs on me, or whatever – ”
 
“It’s not. Obviously, there’s more to it than I realized. So, teach me,” Seth said. And then he winked. On someone else, in a different context, it would have been easy to dismiss the gesture as condescending. Here, however, his interest seemed genuine.
 
“Okay, well, you know about dominants and submissives, and that we sometimes call that a power exchange,” I said.
 
“Right,” he replied.
 
“Like I said, the specifics are going to depend on the people in the relationship,” I explained. “Actually, the answer to a lot of questions is going to be ‘it depends,’ unfortunately.”
 
I expected him to cut me off, ask more questions, comment in some way. He didn’t. “So, one couple might play around with roles only on date night or on weekends, or whatever. And there’s nothing wrong with that. Other couples will do what we call 24/7. In other words, one person is in charge of everything, all the time.”
 
“That sounds intense,” Seth said.
 
“Sort of?” I replied. “Because they don’t have to be in charge of every little thing, but they are in charge all the time.”
 
“What sort of things can they be in charge of? Can you be more specific?” he asked.
 
That there was no one way to do kink was both the most comforting and most frustrating aspect of it. It was completely individual, which made it completely unlike the religion I had been raised with. But too many possibilities could be daunting for anyone. It had been for me once, and now it was daunting to explain.
 
“Literally anything,” I said. “Whatever fits in with the lives of the people involved. For one couple, it might mean they don’t do a lot of noticeable stuff because they have kids, are involved with extended families, have busy jobs, etc. I mean, some people don’t even have rules – one person simply defers to the other. If you didn’t know what you were looking for, you might not even notice they were doing anything.”
 
Seth wagged his head. Clearly, none of those factors mattered. “Let’s narrow it to what might apply to us,” he said. “Because I feel like you’re being deliberately evasive.”
 
Couldn’t fool him, I thought. “Yes and no,” I said. “Like, sure, I don’t want to give you ideas I won’t like, but it really is super individual.”
 
“Fair enough,” he said. “So, who decides on rules? As the dominant, is it my way or the highway, or what?”
 
“I’d have to agree to them,” I said. “Theoretically, of course.”
 
“Doesn’t that put you in charge though?” he asked.
 
In an attempt to avoid using the phrase, ‘it depends’ yet again, I said, “There are people who see it that way, but I don’t. If I agree to you dictating, say, what I wear every day, I don’t feel like I can bitch when you choose something I don’t like. In my mind, if you’re in control of a thing, you’re in control of a thing, if that makes sense.”
 
Seth’s eyes widened in understanding. I could see the concepts start to click for him. “But I can’t unilaterally make a rule with no input from you, is that right?” he asked.
 
“Honestly, I’m sure there are people who do that, but I would hope they’ve been together longer, and know each other a lot better than we do,” I told him.
 
“Of course,” he nodded, speaking more to himself than to me. “I can work with that. But are there rules that are more common? I understand it’s not going to be the same across the board, but I need to start somewhere – provided you end up agreeing, that is.”
 
I proceeded to list a vast array of rules I had either lived by or seen imposed over the years. From speech restrictions, bathroom restrictions, orgasm control, to more off the wall and obscure ones. “You could literally decide you hate the color pink and forbid me from wearing it,” I told him. “That’s how broad the spectrum is.”
 
“What’s off limits then?” he asked.
 
“Nothing,” I said. “Literally nothing if I agree to it.”
 
From there, I dove into the concept that no act is inherently dominant or submissive. A submissive could top, for example, if ordered to. Or be in charge of other submissives. An act like driving could be viewed as the person being in control of the car, or they could be in service to the passenger.
 
All depending on the perspective.
 
“You thought I was kidding when I said this shit is complicated, didn’t you?” I asked.
 
Seth blew out a breath. “I was not expecting this,” he said.
 
I looked over and chewed my bottom lip. “Dare I ask – what did you think kink was?” I asked.
 
“I thought it was a bunch of people dressing up in leather and role-playing,” he replied. “With sex.”
 
“I think you have us confused with ren faires,” I told him.
 
“I don’t picture much sex going on at ren faires,” he said.
“Then you’ve never been to a ren faire,” I snapped back. “The crossover is huge.”
 
We drove in silence for a bit then – at least the discussion had gotten us most of the way through Nebraska – and I considered more carefully what it might be like to submit to Seth. Although I identified more as a bottom than a submissive, there had long been people who could bring out my submissive nature.
 
There had been the female dominant from out of town who ran a much stricter household than I wanted to be part of. And yet, all I’d wanted was to was sit at her feet and await bizarre orders. We’d chatted off and on for a while, but nothing had come of it. Others had come and gone as well, and there had always been a reason it wouldn’t work. 
 
Now, Seth was pushing those same buttons.
 
“Tell me about punishments,” he said finally. He’d let me take over driving for a bit, and I had assumed he’d want to sleep. I had assumed wrong.
 
“You would want to know about that,” I muttered.
 
 “Why wouldn’t I?” he snapped. “I have a feeling they’re going to come in handy with you. Or do you have to agree to that too?”
 
Another complicated explanation. This time, associated with bad memories. Hooray for me. “Mostly, they shouldn’t go past someone’s established limits,” I said. “If I had canes listed as a limit – like, a hard and fast, I will never do that limit – it would be bad form to use them as a punishment. But it should be something the other person doesn’t enjoy. So, you know, pain doesn’t really work on me.”
 
“What does, out of curiosity?” he asked.
 
“You know what, fuck this,” I said. “I’ve done nothing but cooperate with you. I’ve gone to the trouble of explaining all of this. And I don’t believe you’re really interested in any of it. You want to continue punishing me, fine. You haven’t needed my help with that yet.”
 
“Are you trying to tell me you’re never going to fuck up again?” he asked.
 
“I’m saying I deserve a little credit for trying, for even starting the work to move on,” I said. “If you can’t give me that, you’re as bad as my mother. Nothing has ever been good enough for her either.”
 
He let out a slow breath. “You have a point,” he said. “But it’s been less than a week. It’s going to take longer than that for me to get past this completely.”
 
“I can see that too,” I told him. Punishments for me had often been tedious and uncomfortable, I explained. My most recent ex, Robert, had made me sleep on the floor, or not let me on furniture at all while I was staying with him.
 
Or he’d ignored me.
 
“That was what ultimately broke us up though,” I concluded. “I wouldn’t use that.”
 
“Ignored you how?” Seth asked. “Not answered the phone or ignored you in person?”
 
“He wouldn’t answer texts, nothing. Said I wasn’t allowed to contact him for a set period of time,” I said.
 
“And that’s bad?” he asked.
 
“I had called him out for doing something, confronted him,” I went on. “Instead of talking about it, owning up to it, he decided to ignore me. We broke up soon after.”
 
“What did you confront him about?” Seth asked.
 
I hated this memory. Hated how things had ended, hated that I had allowed Robert to chase me out of the community I had once loved. Hated him. “He was playing with someone else,” I said. “I heard her use a safeword. Watched him keep playing. I tried to intervene, but he claimed he hadn’t heard her. Later, he would claim she hadn’t said anything, and I couldn’t get her to speak out against him or report him.”
 
If he needed an explanation on safewords, he didn’t mention it. He simply muttered, “asshole,” then crossed his arms and slept through most of Iowa.
----
While re-reading this book, I realized just how quickly Seth and Lucy's dominant/submissive relationship took hold. I was so eager to get them to that point, in such a hurry to get past all the bad times, that I barely let either of them process those bad times. 

As a result, much of the next few chapters are devoted to exactly that - allowing their relationship to emerge at a more realistic pace. Further, now that I know so much more of their story, I was able to weave in references to characters we won't fully get to know until much later. Lucy's ex, Robert, for example, won't fully arrive  until Ace in the Hole, though he gets some time in Riding It Out. 

This chapter also includes what may be my favorite lines from both Seth and Lucy. I used Seth's line, "You need someone to tell you what to do, and I really like telling you what to do" in every promotional material I could. It was perfect. 

But this edit allowed for what may be Lucy's greatest moment. While I preparing the final edit for this blog, I wanted to cheer when Seth tried to mock her for finally taking something seriously and being so knowledgeable about it, and she retorted, "If all you want is to use that to control me..." 

Proof she's been challenging him since day one and I love it.