The Polish Elephant
And The Master Of Service Topping
I was standing in the lounge of an undeniably beautiful stately home in a disappointingly urban area of town.
Well, I was standing in the lounge of a one-bedroom apartment within a converted stately home, that would have been beautiful before it was bastardised for rent.
That's what my first and last service Topping looked like.
"...and you’ll call me Master."
Sorry, what?
This is the problem I’ve always had with ‘negotiation’. It’s never really a negotiation, is it? It’s one person making their demands, and another person backpedalling, acquiescing, or countering. Bold words for a man who chose such a title himself. I certainly never gave it to him. I’ve only given that title to one man. And that didn’t require a negotiation.
“You’re not my Master.”
He sneered at me. "Oh, you’ll call me Master," his breath reached me before his words did, "and you’ll like it."
Poor, misguided Master, I smiled blankly.
You see, I'm no good at following orders.
I am the Polish elephant.
If you've never seen the film Water for Elephants, you wouldn't understand the reference, but the titular circus elephant, Rosie, refuses to do tricks for her new owners. They grow frustrated trying to force her into compliance. She’s stubborn, and therefore useless, and must be disposed of. Until someone speaks Polish and, whaddya know, she complies. She’s not stubborn, she just only understands Polish!
When I think about the elephant, I think about the commands placed on pets and such. A stray dog won’t sit just because you tell it to, because maybe it's never been taught what "sit" means, or maybe it only comprehends a different language.
That's me. The (English) Polish Elephant.
No matter how much someone might try to push me into a dynamic, it’s not necessarily stubbornness that makes me rebel, it’s merely instinctive incompatibility.
I'm not some douchebag's pet. I certainly wasn't his anything. I went there for a service. He was there to provide that service.
"Tell me my fucking name, slut!"
That's when the shapeshifter label made sense; the reason I'm nicknamed after one. Diaval, Maleficent's raven servant that is whatever his Mistress needs. I just have to believe in their ownership to understand how to give it.
The reason I want someone, fiercely, for all that they are, is the strength I see in them and my response to/longing for/desire of it, and therefore, them. It isn’t what I’ve been trying to call it all these years. It’s not that word I struggle with: “submission". It’s acceptance. Of my place, of theirs, of their needs and desires and how I can fulfil them, of my own desires and how they can fulfil them, of my fate.
It’s acceptance of who I am, who they are, and what we become, Just... our true selves. Nothing more, but never accepting of anything less.
That's what the label Pet best describes. They're an owner, I'm a pet they own. A dog doesn’t care what car you drive, what clothes you wear, what salary you bring home. It only cares that you are there. The alpha, the fellow companion, the accompaniment to their emotional state. It’s not about what you bring to the table, only that you come to the table at all.
You might have a dog for company or household protection or hunting, or a ferret for hunting, or a chicken for fresh eggs, or a hive for fresh honey, they don’t need you to be anything but present in order to give you what you need from them.
So the Master can do whatever he wants with me, so long as it's him doing it.
I didn't belong in that house. I never did. I never would.
What my Master, my owner, needs from me is what I give because that’s why I’m there. That’s my fate. It isn’t that I’m wilfully submitting and therefore relinquishing anything, and that’s why I’m there. I’m accepting the reminder of my place and thus reminding them of theirs in those moments.
Like a slave, but with increased agency.
But not like a submissive, because it's not about being less powerful.
It's the need for the pet to be as present as the companion.
Owner and pet.
Not M/s.
Not D/s.
That's why "Pet" has always rung truest of all the names I respond to.
But only for the right person.
I seek the intimacy and connection of being owned. But unlike a slave or submissive, I crave agency, if not total autonomy.
Oh, sure, I have some submissive desires rolled up in the things I see in someone's strength and dominant aspects. But my sense of identity is rooted not in being a slave or submissive who is paired with a happenstance D-type; it's rooted in compatibility. The ways we match in many other aspects of life and love, of "vanilla" love and romance.
Just because someone is a possessive owner doesn't mean I want to be owned by them. If I'm a Polish elephant, I need a Polack.
"I command your respect!"
They say sex is power. Power dynamics have elements I love, yet it's all so very far down the list. I need to match on values and beliefs and attitudes and behaviours and the rest. Not just on the power dynamic. I need to be owned by someone I respect, value, appreciate, understand, care for, respond to, love, and am devoted to. And when that's the case, I'll do just about anything for them.
But this guy?
This guy wasn't my Master, and I didn't owe him shit.
"You might call yourself a Master, but you're not my Master, and you get to command fuck all out of me."
About the Author: DiavalDiablo is a mental auralist with a love of sharp things, including wit, and is considered an "antisocial butterfly".
