Choking on the lesson.

   The throat.

Such a beautiful area; so soft, sensitive, delicate.

This image was once my greatest fear.  Nothing, really nothing, touched my neck.

The reason was simple: Fear.

Once there was a man in my life (I use the term “man” loosely here), whose favorite thing to do while having sex with me was to choke me. I understand that some people get off on asphyxiation, and if that is your kink then more power to you! However, this was not the case with me. He would grab my throat and squeeze, and unfortunately I was not strong enough to get him to stop. There would always be a struggle, and I would wake later in my bed with giant bruises on my neck and thanking whatever Gods would listen that I was not dead.

There are a whole list of questions that this situation brings up for other people, and I am not going to get into them. I understand how it looks, how it sounds, the implications on my part. Believe me, I have taken responsibility for my actions, or lack thereof. I do not dwell on the past. That is not what this entry is about.

This is about growth.

The first time that Maestro touched my throat my reaction made it very clear to him that I was NOT okay with it. It was an overreaction really, as he was stroking it and not actually grabbing. But the fear was real, I grabbed his hand and pulled it away forcefully. I was shaking, frozen, and could feel the tears building. He laid beside me, very still, and had me go through the encounter with him and explain what happened. Looking back now, I can see that my reaction was probably confusing to him. Going from hot to cold so quickly for, seemingly, no reason at all. Luckily, as I have said before, I have a very loving and patient Maestro.

Thus began my throat training. It wasn’t something that he said “We are going to fix this behavior”. No, it began with a touch.

Maestro and I were in bed knotted up with each other, he was stroking my face, my jaw, his fingers slowly caressing me. As he began to graze the outline of my shoulder where it meets my neck,  I begin to tighten up.

“Look at me” he whispered. He had leaned up on his left elbow while his right hand was still gently stroking me. I opened my eyes and though he was smiling at me, I could see his eyes were serious. “I will only ever touch your neck with the back of my hand, ” he says, showing me his outstretched fingers, “I can’t grip that way, you have nothing to fear.”

At first he would only touch the side of my neck. He always touched me gently, always holding his hand still until he felt me relax.  Slowly, he began touching closer to the center of my throat.  This was more difficult for me, but he always paused and waited if he felt me tensing up.

Six months passed and I was beginning to enjoy the soft stroking of my neck and throat.

At eight months he began using his fingertips.  I was tense, but the time he had taken with me had allowed me to trust that he was not going to hurt me. There were no setbacks, no having to start over. I was discovering, again, how to relax to his touch and trust.

After a year, I had reached a point where I would guide his hand to my throat while we were having sex.  The first time I did that Maestro was really surprised, and while he didn’t say anything to me during, he made a point of telling me when we were cuddling afterwards.

Now, I am okay with Maestro touching my neck, I’m even okay when he gives it a little squeeze.

It took some time to get through the baggage that I was carrying, and the lesson was really as much about that as it was about trusting my Maestro. It was also a lesson in not judging all by the actions of one.