Some can be put off by the use of the word "perfection" because nothing can ever really be perfect, but I understood what he meant. He wanted me to be balanced, he wanted me to understand how I placed in his life. Where I stood in the great scheme of things. The thing is, everything had to spelled out carefully and explained to me.
This was something that Alpha never gave me, a choice. Alpha made service seem like a dream. Once I became his I was never allowed to question anything. I couldn't ask him anything. This was so very wrong but I didn't know it, I was told to trust him and I did. When things started going wrong, or right depending on which side you look at it from it, I couldn't say to him anything. The first time I was whipped he would stop and ask me what I was. At first I didn't know what to say the pain was searing and I was sobbing uncontrolled. When I didn't respond he would start again. Then pause and ask what I was. Eventually I answered a slave.
Like that the whipping stopped. It wasn't an offer but nonetheless it stopped. Alpha took it as an offer, my acceptance of my station in his life. From that time I wasn't allowed to question him on anything, and was only told to trust him. If I did want to ask a question, obviously it was because I didn't trust him, and wasn't a good slave because good slaves always trust their masters without question. Right? Wrong! Only I didn't know that, I only knew about the lifestyle what he told me about it.
We have all heard the terms (or should have) of SSC (safe, sane, consensual) and RACK (risk aware consensual kink), but really he had that power to himself. How was I supposed to offer consent when I understood nothing of what I was consenting to?
Omega and I both prefer the principle of RACK to the SSC, only because some of the play he engages in some consider not very safe or sane...he believes in risk awareness. I know when he takes out the violet wand I might get burned, or electrocuted. That something might go wrong. But I am aware of this and choose to go ahead. I also know that Omega has studied and used the wand for a good many years; checks it out to make certain it is in good working order, etc., and does whatever possible to eliminate some of the risk. However all the risk cannot be eliminated and that's why we in lifestyle call it edge play.
Breath restriction, knives, electric, fire, piercing, are all forms of edge play (and I'm sure I'm leaving some out). Any time those are done Omega talks to me about it before hand. He makes certain that I am up to it. He goes to somewhat large extremes to insure my safety (not just my safety but the safety of any bottom he played with). He makes use of medical equipment like pulse oximeter, a lovely gadget that measures the amount of oxygen in the blood. When he does any type of constriction he always uses it and I'm not just talking about tight corsets, but we use it for breath play. He wants to be certain that he knows as much as possible about what is going on in my body during heavy play. When he sees the meter going below a certain number, 93, he stops and loosens the bind. He does not want me going into respiratory arrest, which is a common side effect of breath play.
Yes, Omega has placed his hands at my throat while he's fucked me, but he also watches me carefully for several days afterward, to make certain I suffer no adverse effects like swallowing difficulties, which again is a common kink related injury. The point is Omega takes care of me before and after play, and for that he has earned my trust.
But what about this perfection thing? Does that mean that I can't question him or I am just available for his every whim and sadistic need?
Nope, it means that I am his slave, his well-tended property. He loves me and I love him. It means that in his eyes, despite or because of my flaws I am perfect to him. When I look at him my eyes fill with love. I love serving him and pleasing him but that is not what makes me his perfection. It is when I ask him questions, and listen to answers even if I disagree with them. The things he does for me and the things he will not do to me.
When I collapse on the floor in a quivering, shaking mass of goo, sweaty, bruised and used I am perfect to him. I am what he needs; not a doormat, but also not someone to be bratty and challenge his every command.
I am becoming His perfection and I couldn't be happier in that role.