Last week, we’d planned dinner at an Ethiopian restaurant, where you’re invited to eat Ethiopian style, using their bread, called injera, to scoop up the food with your fingers.
- The food’s served like this – you tear off bits of the injera and make a taco-like thing. It can be messy – and fun.
Midway through the week, i get a text message. It says
“Shall I make you feed me?”
The message makes me giggle – Sarah, the friend i’m visiting at the time, looks at me curiously, but doesn’t ask. i can picture Sir, laying back on cushions while i kneel in front of Him, carefully feeding Him.
“If you like” i respond, tickled by the idea.
“I might” He says and all i can reply is “giggles, blushing…” cause i am giggling and blushing, so much so that i have to say to Sarah, “texting, you know, a friend of mine,” kind of vaguely in explanation.
i think about that as the week goes by, wonder if He’ll really make me feed Him, kind of turned on by the whole idea. i think i’m quite prepared for it if He does.
But when it happens, when we are in the crowded restaurant, talking, sipping a glass of wine, and He suddenly says, “Feed me,” – O. There is a moment of heart-stopping, “o, my,” as if everyone will instantly know that i’m submissive. They’ll know this simple act signals my acceptance of His dominance.
And then that fades and i know – more importantly – that feeding Him reminds me that i submit to Him, that i choose to obey Him.
i become acutely aware of my body, and of His mouth.
Preparing a bite for Him...
It’s not just my hand i’m aware of, my breasts become sensitive, and my pussy throbs. Carefully, i lift the bite, carrying it to His mouth, offering it…
…and a moment’s relief as He accepts it, His mouth closing, not quite touching my fingers, ahhhh, yes, nice.
And for a moment, i’m overwhelmed with desire. i want to go home and undress Him, undoing buttons and zippers, slipping arms out of sleeves, tugging gently on pants… i want to lie on the bed and caress Him. i want to kneel and lick and suck and…
i’m in a crowded restaurant.
Sigh.
Funny, we were just talking with the kids about Haile Salase. (Sp?)
They know him from the Bob Marley lore.
I remember him standing near Jackie at JFK’s funeral.
Generational differences.
But no one mentioned eating with fingers.
I’m with you on the generational differences… but eating with fingers should have been mentioned – it’s so much fun! 🙂
aisha
another great post. how we come to full awareness of *our* bodies, while serving them…
nilla
@nilla – Thanks! It is amazing how that works, isn’t it?
aisha