Lost and Found

21 Jun

i have almost no sense of direction, so i get lost, easily and often i have comfort zones, areas that i know and can travel confidently, but outside of them,  i actually have different ways of being lost.   These are:

1.  i don’t know where i am – i look around and don’t see anything familiar.  i don’t have a clue where i am or which way to go. 

2.  i don’t know where i’m going.  i have no clue where the address or business is, i’ve never been there, and i know i might get lost.  

3.   i know where i am, and i know where i’m going, but i don’t know how to get there. 

There are variations, but those are the three main ways. 

And i HATE getting lost.  i hate everything about it.  i feel scared and stupid.  i don’t want to ask for directions.  i don’t want anyone to know i’m lost, again.   i think i’ll be lost forever. 

i know i’m not stupid.  i know there’s nothing to be scared of.  It doesn’t matter.  Let me say it again.  When i get lost, i feel stupid and scared.  And i don’t want anyone to know.

But one day, Sir happened to call me right when i was so lost that i was sure i would never find the store i was looking for and there wasn’t even anywhere to stop and ask directions.  So when He called, i was so relieved that i just told Him i was lost, and he stayed on the phone with me and told me exactly where to turn until i got to where i was going. 

It was like a little miracle, and He didn’t laugh at me or act like it was ridiculous or bizarre that i could be lost.  In fact, He said i could call Him anytime i was lost – instead of mapquest, i’d have Sir-quest and He’d get me there. 

That kind of “being taken care of” touches me.  It pulls at my heart, and surprisingly, arouses me too.  Not as much or as immediately as the belt, for example, or cock worship, but there’s definitely a line running from my heart to between my legs. 

So it happened again a few weeks later – i was lost, and i shouldn’t have been, i should have known where i was going, but i didn’t.  So this time i called Him just before i got into panic mode.  And He did it again.  He didn’t act like i was imposing on Him or anything.  He just talked to me the whole way and told me exactly how to get where i was going.

So.  i had an early moring appointment this week and Sir invited me to breakfast afterwards at a restaurant He liked.  i knew exactly where the restaurant was.  i knew exactly where my appointment was.  i was sure i could get from point A to point B.  Even when He asked me about it, i said, “o, yes, i know how to get there.” 

Really.  It was only about 5 minutes away.

Only, you know.  When it came time, i had directions but they weren’t written down and i panicked and turned left too soon and had to go around the block and try to find the right place to turn – i mean the right place to turn left, and then i was supposed to turn right, but shouldn’t it be left if i’ve turned too soon?  And then the block curved instead of being square and i thought it was this way cause the street was familiar but then i’d gone a long way and didn’t see where i was supposed to turn right again so it was probably wrong and i turned around and – yeah, that’s how i end up lost.  That kind of thinking.  And while i’m driving around, He’s waiting for me at the restaurant. Which just makes it worse.

So i found my way back to where i’d started and i was going to try again but i kept running into one way streets that went the wrong way – so i called Him.  And by then i not only didn’t know how to get to the restaurant, i wasn’t quite sure where i was either. 

But we figured it out, what street i was on, and He started giving me directions, and He didn’t sound angry or impatient, so i was following the directions and feeling hopeful.  But then i knew i’d done something wrong because he was saying, now turn right, and i was back at this same stupid one way street where i could only turn left, and i was pretty sure i was in the Twilight Zone and would never get past that street and all the panic was there – – – – – –

And He says, really calmly, “Pull over and park somewhere.  I’m coming to get you.  Just pull over somewhere that you can tell me where you are.”  And He doesn’t sound pissed off or even annoyed – i mean, He might have been, but He didn’t sound like it.

So i pull over.  Just like that.  “I’m at First National Bank, in the parking lot,” i say.  Then i turn off my car and wait.  i think about all the times i’ve been lost.  i think about all the times my mother used to say, “If you get lost, just stay where you are and I’ll come find you.”  i used to tell my kids that too.  I think about how my mother would have  come and found me anywhere, and about how much i wanted my dad to want to find me instead.

i think about what it feels like to be sitting in my car waiting for Sir to come get me.  

It feels good.  Odd, but good.  This whole “being taken care of thing.”   Very seductive, and very dangerous.

Let me  be clear – I don’t need it.  I can take care of myself just fine.  I would have managed the panic and figured it out,  I always do. 

But to hand over the responsiblity and just wait…  feels like submission to me.  Some strange foreplay.  Like waiting bent over the arm of the couch, like waiting with my mouth hovering above His cock.   What is that about?  

i wonder, without worrying, how He feels about coming to rescue me.  Wonder if it feels the same as making sure the collar’s not too tight – just one more way He takes care of me.

And right when i see Him, just when He pulls into the parking lot, i have a moment of, “He’s going to be pissed, of course He will be, i told Him i could find it, He had to come all this way, …

And there He is, looking down at me from His van window – and His expression just says, “There you are.”  Like you would say if you just found the shirt you were looking for last week.   “There you are.”


So is it a Dom thing, this ability to take care of me in a matter-of-fact way that makes me feel so good?   Or is it just my Sir?   When i read posts on Fetlife, it sounds like it’s part of  being a good Dom.   And of course Sir’s a good Dom, there’s never been any doubt about that. 

But allowing myself to be rescued taps into the same part of me that allows Him to have power over me, that allows Him to spank me and fuck me at His whim.

It is not a trade-off.  Not “He takes care of me so i let Him spank me,” at all.  Getting rescued, letting Him press a battery to my clit, or offering my ass for His belt all tap into the same part of me.

It’s NOT the part of me that won’t ask for help, or directions, not the me that is always competent, capable, and in control.  It’s that other part, the me i used to always hide.  

 “What are you?” Sir says.  “Say it.”

And i whisper, “Submissive, Sir.  I”m submissive.” 

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