Summary

The article recounts the author's journey through an attempted polyamorous relationship with a dominant Master figure, exploring themes of anal sex, power dynamics, and heartbreak.

Abstract

The narrative delves into the author's experiences with a man who became her Master in a consensual powerplay dynamic, which initially complemented her single status and explorations in polyamory. The relationship was marked by intense chemistry and a deep connection, particularly through the act of anal sex, which became symbolic of their emotional intimacy. However, as the relationship progressed, the Master's increasing possessiveness and imposition of restrictive rules led to the author feeling caged and ultimately choosing to leave despite the strong physical attraction. The story underscores the complexities of power dynamics in relationships and the profound impact that words, as much as physical actions, can have on one's emotional well-being.

Opinions

The author initially enjoyed the balance between their playful Master/slave roles and their real-life interactions, where mutual respect and care were present.
Anal sex is metaphorically linked to the process of opening up emotionally, highlighting the vulnerability and potential rewards of both experiences.
The author became adept at preparing for anal sex, which was a significant aspect of their power dynamic, with the Master asserting ownership over that part of the author's body.
The relationship's evolution from a non-monogamous arrangement to a more possessive and restrictive one was not in alignment with the author's needs and desires.
The author felt that the Master's rules were hypocritical and unfair, as they did not account for the partners' different sexual preferences and starting points within the relationship.
The decision to leave was difficult due to the intense physical and emotional connection, but the author ultimately prioritized personal fulfillment and fairness over the relationship.
The experience taught the author the significant impact of words in shaping reality and the importance of caution in relationships involving powerplay and BDSM.

An Ass-Master Stole My Heart

A story about anal sex, and my (attempted) polyamorous slave-Master relationship

Bart Scholliers via Unsplash (Picture has been cropped)

They say that the way to someone’s heart is through the stomach—which as a foodie I believe to be at last partially true—but I’ve recently come wonder if there may also be a way to our hearts through our… [ehemm] rear ends.

And doesn’t it make a great metaphor for opening our hearts? The process of getting emotionally close to someone has almost uncanny similarities to anal sex:

It can be somewhat of an uphill battle; a tense, deep and dark journey. It takes courage, care, and consideration, meticulous mental—and physical preparation. It can be painful, and you may have to dig your way through some crap. But when you finally get there, when you dare to lean in, let go and open up, it is (most of the time) soo rewarding!

This isn't really a story about butt sex, but rather one about (attempted) polyamory, powerplay, and heartbreak.

I met a man who became my Master, and I was his slave.

The titles were only for fun and were only used during play. In real life, he made me feel like a Goddess: He poured me wine and listened to all my stories. I cooked him his favorite meals and greeted him at the door in lingerie. He was ok with me exploring my newfound single-status and having other dates. I was fine with his live-in vanilla-girlfriend—and other hookups. None of those mattered, because when we were together only the two of us existed. We also never spoke about them—it seemed easier that way.

My perfect slave, he’d call me.

My handsome Master, I’d text back,

‘slave’ always in lowercase, ‘Master’ always capitalized. If anyone else had tried that on me, I’d most likely punch them in the face, but with him it was different.

We had the kind of chemistry that was tangible; the kind that made the molecules in the air around us change in a way that didn’t just draw the two of us closer, but that seemed to pull others in our direction as well. Needless to say, group-scenarios were thoroughly explored.

Pablo Heimplatz via Unsplash (Picture has been cropped)

When we met, I was no stranger, yet quite new to the world of anal. In ‘Fetlife* speak’, I went from curios about to into, and I became a butt-prepping-pro in no-time. That part of my body became his.

*FetLife is a social network for people interested in BDSM, fetishism, and kink.

Commands like, “Open up! Let go! Give me MY ass!” made me soft and supple under his hands. His to mold, my walls fell one by one and he had me at his knees— always—without having to ask.

It was a kind of love that was different than regular love. It existed on another plane. It was more intimate. It was (…) deeper.

Months passed, and while we remained non-monogamous, things changed. Slowly, almost unnoticeably, my rein got pulled tighter and tighter, one millimeter, then another.

Things that used to be fine for him, were not ok anymore. New rules were steadily introduced: No other dominant men! No one else touches MY ass!

He became increasingly possessive.

I suppose, when you allow someone to declare themselves your owner, the joke’s on you right?

Sonny Ravesteijn via Unsplash (Picture has been cropped and made black & white)

After a beautiful day of frolicking and fucking in the park, breaking off branches for improvised forest caning and ending up in my bedroom for a long session of working ourselves even closer to each other’s hearts (…), he told me that he wanted to give me a piece of jewelry to symbolize a day collar. It was then that reality hit me:

Our playful Master/slave game was no longer a game.

While I couldn’t feel further removed from the word slave in real life, I found myself backed into a cage and locked up by a set of deeply hypocritical and unfair demands, that left me unfulfilled, and him with a buffet at his feet.

It’s totally fair, he claimed, you can have exactly what I have. You can date vanilla, submissive and/or other women.

But, I argued, it’s the same, except it’s not. It’s not only disregarding our individual sexualities, but also the fact that we’re coming from completely different starting points!

I was enraged.

I realized that I was left with an ultimatum; to stay and be basically monogamous to someone who couldn’t reciprocate, or to unchain myself and let go of, not only the hottest fuck of my life but someone who had grown to mean a lot to me. As if a fog was lifted, I saw the situation, and him, with a newfound sense of clarity.

I broke out of that cage, and I ran!

Well… that’s not exactly how it went, it just sounded more badass in writing. Pulling away was painful and took hours over the course of weeks, of excruciating conversations and negotiations. Not to mention that it felt completely counterintuitive to break up with someone that I craved on such a primal level—someone that made me meek at the sound of their approaching footsteps and had me under their spell with the slightest whisper in my ear.

But at last, sense overthrew sensibility—and then I left, but not without looking over my shoulder—or without running back for a few desperate bonus-fucks months after the fact.

The lessons learned were, firstly, that the old rhyme about sticks and stones is a farse: throughout my experience with BDSM and powerplay, I’ve (consensually) tasted my fair share of ‘sticks and stones’, but nothing has had a deeper impact on me than words.

Words matter and words have power—even when used playfully. Words—not unlike magic spells—especially if repeated enough times, can alter reality.

So while there may very well be a connection between our butts and our hearts, the moral of this story is to always apply caution, or you might just find yourself stuck with an asshole.

This story was originally written as a response to the storytelling competition Smut Slam Berlin’s prompt ‘Opening Up’, and performed on stage in June 2018.