You cant put the rabbit back in the hat... well you could but, you know, it's a hat

The last few years of my life I’ve been in a wonderful commuted romantic relationship with Chaos. We've had varied fortunes in life, but I've felt the benefit of having someone wonderful to weather the storm with. When we began the relationship I was confused and in unfamiliar territory; they did not identify with being anything other than kink friendly enough to accept me for who I am. I felt all the warm fuzzy feelings, and this handsome beauty was impossible to ignore.

As one could tell from some of the more personal blog posts in the past, power exchange bloomed, along with and sometimes due to internal and external discovery. Without putting traditional labels on it, we have grown and explored concepts that suit us, where life has allowed. In the last few years, rapidly a more vanilla dynamic grew into a consensual communicated dynamic between the Boss and their boy.

I've had friends in the community talk to me in the last few months, commenting on the subtle visibility of our power exchange dynamic. For example, a few have been referring to Boss as my owner without my prompting or suggestion. That was a surprise to me, but at the same time it always fit in context, and felt pretty cool to hear. I remember being so proud when I shared the bits of anecdote and watching Chaos chuckle and nod.

Somehow that didn't prepare me to hit a new level mindset I've found myself in since the end of January, for lack of a better word a sense of “my place”. An incredibly powerful and completely surprising experience new to our relationship occurred, and since then, it's as though in every day, and every way, I'm consciously aware that I belong to my Boss. That's not to say I doubted or didn't know already, but it wasn’t a conscious presence in my thoughts the way say, that I love them immensely has been for longer than I can remember. But now its right up in that same tier of thinking.

For the sake of clarity, when i say “my place” I mean my own personal experience and dynamic position at this point in time. That is not to glorify any sexist or dehumanizing concept cliches that often go along with similar phrasing.

And it was the oddest moment to spur this new sense in our relationship. Oddly enough, this all came about through the first time we had ever encountered a situation of physical punishment in our relationship. Despite my being quite experienced with the concept in previous or outside dynamics, for Chaos, like many dominant top type folks, discipline and punishment is not an emotionally easy thing to deliver, and previously had been things like meal restrictions. We had and have continued discussions on what we are both consenting to and what is alright in preparation for surprise events, and for that I'm grateful.

The experience itself was mind blowing. After a mutually tiring day dealing with real life drama, the Boss and I sat quietly in our bedroom. I, feeling exhausted, and running on autopilot was playful. I took an action that essentially “poked the bear” mistaking a very “no touch” body language, for an appropriate body language to be somewhat bratty. I literally had a playful stick that I reached out and poked them with. It was hilarious in a sitcom sort of way, the realization of “WHAT DID I JUST DO”. Tired, and with no patience for bullshit and somehow blessed with super-speed, Boss grabbed me, grabbed the stick, and with some sort of unrehearsed natural grace gave me a canning with a stern warning not to do that again.

As I mentioned before this action was something in a category of personal power exchange long since consented to in our relationship, but one we weren't sure would have ever happen. I'm seriously glad that it did. It gave us both a big boost in our verbal communication skills since, as well as a real comfort with the positions we relate to each other in. In the weeks since, we've been facing some rougher time as far as life circumstance goes, and Its a real gift to be able to communicate our way through these muddy waters. The bits of service in our relationship are more fluid now, and necessary for the sort of symbiotic dynamic that forms.

What's in a name; The Origin and Meaning of Kadri

{Let it be noted that in this post I am talking about events that have taken place in my life. For the privacy of others I am giving them alias' here. For their own privacy}

It's a little odd, my fetlife name. Not many people can pronounce it the same way I do, and I don't mind. I honestly refer friends to call me by my given name for every day use, as a lot of the people using Kadri just use it from reading it on the internet. That's perfectly fine, to be known as a screen name by acquaintances, and my first name by friends and family. Now some few friends know that my chosen name is quite special to me, and when they discuss that with me I usually invite them to use it if they prefer, knowing that it is significant. And if I play with someone and they ask if there is anything I enjoy being called for play, I'll request to be called Kadri. It isn't something I bring up much, as the explanation of my name is a personal story, and many people I meet wouldn't quite understand it.

It started with a multiple choice question “Which of these do you like?” She asked me in relation to the list of Gorean styled slave names she thought were fitting. They weren't really my taste, but Kes my mistress at the time enjoyed that theme of BDSM and felt they were ideal choices for slave names. She defined a slave name as the ideal identity for someone who serves with the focus of dedication to be called slave, as it was a statement of who they were to their dominant.

It was four years ago, and for the previous several months I had been submitting to her in a relationship of D/s custodianship and training, and I was finally at the point where she had declared I was worthy of a “slave name.” I was dedicated to the training she had assured me would make me the best slave I could be, so this was very exciting. Even though the names themselves weren't that appealing to me, I trusted her wisdom and taste as she had drilled into me and chose a few names that were alright and i could see using. I also made sure to pick choices that I would be able to consistently pronounce. She took the time to deliberate over my suggestions and decided that I would be kadri. Of course I was also to never capitalize Kadri it in the social settings I used my new name, as she taught me the outlook that a slave should be humble and viewed humbly, where standard grammar would put me on an equal level of standing with her, or anyone else of higher power in their station or identity. As with all my then mistress' lessons, I absorbed her outlook, and obeyed the direction.

Kadri in the gorean role play setting or BDSM style is listed as meaning destiny. At the time that sounded good enough to me, but it wasn't all that important to me compared to being given a name in principle.

It was so exciting suddenly, having a special secret name that someone would call me. At that point it was only Kes and her far flung family from across the internet that would refer to me as “kadri”. It was delightful and embraced heavily. Consciously I was very focused on the training and the achievement. Deep down though, I was just thrilled someone I so blindly adored and trusted would recognize me with such approval. In just a few short months I had befriended and began playing with an intense young woman who professed great BDSM experience and passion, and had been offered her commitment and training, at least until a worthy permanent owner came along.

To add to this excitement, she gave me another name just a few weeks later, offering me a collar of ownership by her family as slave of the house. The relationship had gotten a lot more personal and she felt that it was time to make a more lasting connection. So with my gratitude and obedience she directed me to change my name on fetlife to “kadri_Ara_Sica” (the latter being her chosen house name for her family). For the better part of a year following, I proudly displayed her name on all applicable social networks.

Sadly it was not to last, as the relationship eventually degenerated and increasingly abusive as Kes lost interest in me and became obsessed with her new personal submissive, Lyric. I did my best to maintain my service and be worthy of all I had been given, but nothing was quite good enough. At that point I was more often being called “boy” or “you” by the dominants in Kes's far flung family, and it was very confusing to have earned a name left mostly unused. Adversely, Lyric thought I was good enough, and when she referred to me as Kadri she was speaking to me with kinship and respect. It was warm and so appreciated. As two inexperienced submissive people in the same house, we had a lot to connect over, especially when we eventually met in person.

After several months and some very good advice from concerned peers in the bdsm community, I began to see the truth. I had been lied to, used, and manipulated for months, and fed a name, a collar, orders, and relationships with several people who seemed less and less likely to exist. At the time I only saw some of it, but repressed doubt hidden behind the philosophy that a slave does not question could only stay repressed so long. Kes's behaviour had become erratic and dangerous to others and herself, driving both myself and Lyric to sever our relationships with her.

It did not end cleanly, with the discovery of tremendous and lasting deception. The emotional crash and fluctuating sense of identity lasted for a few months for me. I flipped my fetlife handle to kadri86, dropping the name of Kes's empty house. At that point, it was a temporary placeholder until I could come up with a more suitable identity. She did not want me associated with her, and that was perfectly mutual. At first I was not sure what I thought of this name I had been using for nearly a year, but as I realized she would not want me using it a spark of spite ignited a flame.

I decided to continue to use Kadri as my identity in the kink community, and I would make the name my own. I would make it mean something beyond some definition from a fantasy novel inspired kink theme I could never get into. I was confused if I could trust again, and doubted if I could even be that ideal slave, but I was proud to forge an identity for myself. I looked up Kadri, knowing that most of the names and concepts from the Gor books that the gorean kinksters used were borrowed from actual cultures. It turned out that Kadri was a variant of Kadir/Qadir based on Turkish and Arabic origins. It had a few interpretations; competent, capable, valuable. Being these things, they mattered to me. In the past few months I had been frequently made to feel without worth or potential, but I was determined I was going to be the best person I could be, alone, or in the service of someone else.

At the same time all of this happened, I went through my move to Victoria, and to new beginnings. In the course of a few years I experienced many new things, learning to trust, exploring different facets of my very complex sense of identity. Slowly, as wounds healed and my confidence returned I came to love those few special people calling me Kadri, even if they did not know the whole story. When I identified as Kadri, it was with people I had invited to use the name. I give it with power to a dominant in play, and with affection to a friend who cares for it. I champion it when I express myself creatively through my writing and creative endeavours. When I finally tired of people referring to the number at the end of the fetlife name out loud, I changed it to Kadri_ with a capital K. My name is mine, and I no longer felt comfortable consenting to the world putting me below others grammatically the way an abusive ex had wished me to.

Will it be my name forever? I am not sure. My identity is my collective experience and Kadri is a part of that. There was damage and abuse for “kadri” and in renewal, stubbornness, and growth I turned that scar into my badge of honour. I plan on wearing it until it falls off.

You’ll never know just how much I want you

The following is a special note to a very special man.

I don’t think you realize the affect you have on me, not fully. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to fully tell you in a way that can be conceived through the medium of words, but I’m willing to try.

Your day to day cares, your every routine, and the way you take the time when you get the chance to share your warmth with me, it warms my heart and inspires me. Just looking at you as you share your thoughts reminds me just how delightful you are. It makes the room more comfortable to be in because you are there.

My brain turns to jelly when you give me that look, the one you give when I’ve pleased you. When you tell me I’m good, I feel as a dog being pet. And when you are so kind as to mess with my head, or surprise me the way you do, the whole world spins.

 

And without even meaning to, damn near everything you do has the potential to turn me on sexually, because you're just so damned attractive, emotionally, physically, intellectually. You Sir are hot. I usually consciously need to try not to let just how desirable you are affect me. It’s on that scale where even bacon makes the world feel exciting.

I’ve been holding this in for months and have finally found what I think are the right words.