The 9 Service Languages | Intensive Session Wrap Up Thoughts

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On Sunday, I wrapped up my first small group FULL INTENSIVE workshop that spanned 6+ hours over the course of 2 days. Anyone who has sat through my Intro class knows, The 9 Service Languages is a fucking BIG IDEA! When I first launched my class, I naively believed it could be tackled in a typical 90-minute or 2-hour session. I quickly learned that was impossible and that few platforms (cons, orgs, mtgs) had the ability to hold space for me and attendees to get DEEP in the weeds of WIITWD as it relates to Service. I am PROFOUNDLY HONORED that @S-O-C—the Service Oriented Conference—reached out to me earlier this year to be a part of their inaugural Intensive Program. They were the perfect partner with the perfect target audience for an Intensive of The 9 Service Languages of Authority Transfer Relationships/Dynamics. The session allowed me to work with a small group as we got our hands dirty, dissecting where, when, how, and why we do Service and considered ways to adjust, tweak, evol...
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The Edge of His Darkness

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It’s 3am. I should be unconscious, earning another two or three face creases from sleeping soundly on His t-shirt, but in the shadows and silence and blessed fuckin stillness, I selfishly steal the time from my pile of obligations to travel back to our last night, our last morning, and just savor the memories.  Words, images, moments flicker through my mind.  Until I settle there.  That.  I hit replay and replay and replay.

Fuck. What He did to me….  
What I can’t even bring myself to fuckin type.  Even here.

No one has dared.  Except Him.  Except Him.  Except Him.

Looking back, I see clearly the presence I had felt.  It was there.  In the look carved on His face.  The edge of a Darkness that He holds tightly at bay had come to watch me.  Somehow... after so long... I had caught His interest again.  

I met His gaze without fear, and His vicious response was absolute.

There was no warning.  
No preparing me to take what was to come.  
He.
Gave.
Me.
No.
Choice.  

And in the quiet deep of tonight, where there's no distractions or hiding, I know my unapologetic truth... I didn't and do not want a fuckin choice.  I don't want to negotiate or enthusiastically fucking consent beforehand.  I crave His DEEPEST truths and the unquestionable demand of His taking.

Caught off guard, I'd flinched at His Beast's response to me.  I swear that only enticed Him more.  With deliberate care and what felt like a blend of sadistic amusement and controlled violent intent, He reached through the bars of His prison of self-control and snatched my ass up to take more.  

It was ruthless.
Savage.

It was nasty.
Twisted.
Cruel.

I didn’t just like it.
I didn’t just love it.
I fuckin reveled in it.
Wallowed in that shit.

I leaned in and basked in the rewards of His untamed Beast.

I tremble at the memory.  Not out of fear.  No...there was not even a flicker of fear.  Or shame.  Or disgust.  My cunt clenches at the memory, and I know with a certainty that the levels of depravity I’ll willingly embrace with Him—for Him—have barely been scratched.  He... rattles the door of some unnamed, unknown place in me.  Something I have yet to find let alone understand or set free.  Fuck, the possibilities......what we could find together.  Could do.  Could be.

I want His Darkness so much I can almost taste and smell it.  I want to feel the unrelenting arms of His Beast crush and remake my soul.  I want... Fuck...I can't even walk down this path intellectually.  This isn't something I can find in my mind.  It's buried somewhere in my soul and will only be found in the moment.  And I can't do that without Him.  I won't find my own way, like I have through so fucking much in my life.  

~growl~ 

What he did to me...the memory leaves me drunk and breathless even days later.  I can't explain it, no matter how much I roll it over in my mind.  I relish what is such a contradiction to how I move in the world.  

He does things to me I never knew I needed to feel, and I never fail to respond to Him like water responds to wind—effortlessly.

He did it once before…that first date. The act had stunned then too, but I accepted His gift without hesitation.  Instinctually embracing what He gave.  When I followed up days later to ask what His action meant…

“It means that you've earned a taste of me. It means you're filthy. It means you’re mine. It makes me feel surrendered to.”

Yes...please....fuck yes, please...all of that.  Every damn word and letter.

I fucking crave His Darkness, His Beast, His untamed desires.  They call to my every instinct, but...
Will He trust me enough to come out from behind the bars of His own prison?
What will He find in me?
Will He accept and embrace the unrestrained animal He may set free?  
~DominaKat  

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