Archive | August, 2010

Just One More Day…

21 Aug

When i see that’s He’s online – not even by His picture, just the little yellowish-orange circle filled in – it turns me on.  My pussy sits up and pays attention, so to speak.  Just a little throb, a little warmth, as if to say, “Get ready… here He comes.” 

And that’s just for IM’s.  Whew.

Not today, but tomorrow, He’ll be here.  So of course, i’m half turned on all the time at this point.   And not allowed to make myself cum.   Sir is clear about that – no orgasms two days before.  Which is not unreasonable, it keeps me nicely on edge.  But you already know it makes me squirm too.

And it spirals, the more i write about it, think about it, the worse it gets.  And then there’s the yardstick thing, which is today, and…  STOP!  i need to stop this now.

Ok.  Maybe  a fantasy will help get my mind off it.

He said He would have me kneel. 

He said He would make me beg.  

i don’t think i’ve ever really begged.  i don’t even much like to ask.  i’m pretty sure asking for anything means i’m weak.  Which is way too scary.   i want to give, not to need.  

O, that’s not a fantasy.  Let me back up and try again.

i am kneeling.  He is in front of me, His cock in His hand, watching me.   i watch His hand, watch Him grow harder.   Lick my lips just the teeniest bit.  i don’t want to look impatient; i will wait.   

“What do you want?”  He says.  “Tell me.”

i hesitate, it’s hard to say the words.  He waits.

“i want to taste You, Sir,” i finally say.  He waits.  i shift a little, rocking back on my knees, lick my lips.

“Open your legs,” He says, “Wider.” 

i adjust my posture, spread my knees wider so He can see my pussy, freshly shaven, glistening wet.   It throbs, responding to His command.  i pull my shoulders back a little, the black lace half-bra lifts my breasts, offers them, exposes the nipples.  My nipples are hard.  Longing to be touched.

i wait.

“You want to ‘taste me?'” He says, as if considering. 

“Yes, Sir.  Please.”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” He says.  “Explain that a little more clearly, please.”

i shiver, a wave of heat rushes through me, i am ashamed and thrilled and aching – i need his touch, need to touch Him.  He watches me.

“i want – i want…” i want the words to come easily, like they do sometimes when i’m writing.  i want them to flow.  Instead, they stick at the edge of my lips.  i bite my lower lip, as if that will loosen them, set them free. 

He waits.

Finally, “i want to take You in my mouth,”  i say, and then, all in a rush, “i want to lick You, and suck You, and feel You grow hard in my mouth, Sir, i want You to cum in my mouth.  Please. Sir.”  And then i’ve run out of words.  i wait.  Pussy hot and  throbbing.  Nipples tingling.

He’s smiling.  “Me?” He says, teasing now.  “you want to take ‘me’ in your mouth – what do you mean?”

i force the words out – why is this so hard?  “Your cock, Sir.”  And feel better now that i’ve said it.  “i want to take Your cock in my mouth, Sir,” and gaining confidence, “And kiss it.  And lick it.  And suck it.”  He is still stroking His cock, but i think it gets harder as i’m talking.  It – He – the cock – can hear me.  i’m talking to Him now, watching Him, i say:

“i want to gently slide my teeth along You, not to hurt You, just so You can feel it – i want to lick You all the way from the base, up to the top, up to that tiny space, You know, right there…  i want to take the head in my mouth and lick around it, right under the rim.  i want to feel your vein throbbing, kiss and lick my way up and down it.  i want to take you all the way in my mouth…”

And the cock has gotten very hard –   now He is paying attention.   My pussy is throbbing, dripping, i can smell sex throughout the room, mine, his, the scents mingling.  There is a drop of precum on the cock, i lick my lips with purpose now, with promise.   And look up at Sir.

i smile, just a half smile.  “i’d like to taste Your cock, Sir.  Please.  If i may.” 

His cock is talking to Him now, i know it is.  “Come on,” it says, “Let her do it.  You’ve made her wait long enough.”  

**************************************************

And i’ll leave us there.  Whew.  i feel much better.  Ok, more turned on.  Dreadfully wet.  Would really, really like to touch myself til i cum. 

But at least i’m not obsessed with the yardstick anymore.  <smiles.> 

And tomorrow, He’ll be here.

 

Tags: , , , , , ,

Two To Go

20 Aug

Two more days til Sir D’s visit.  One more day til the big trip to The Fair, where i’ll acquire a yardstick.  For Him.  To use, um, on me.  O, my. 

 i wonder how and where.  On the bed, lying on my stomach?  Over the arm of the couch?  Over his knee would, i think, be awkward with a yardstick.   But not impossible, i suppose.  And if it sounds like i’m thinking about it quite emotionlessly – O, think again.

But i have other things to think about today, about the yardstick.  You see, i did a preview visit to The Fair today.   But let me start at the beginning.

You remember P, the man i was involved with before Sir D?  And you remember that we parted on friendly terms, and still talk from time to time?   Ok.  Because he knows that i love The Fair, and because he has connections through his work, he was able to get me a book of extremely discounted tickets for admission and parking at The Fair.  So, in addition to getting my family in free, there were enough tickets for me to go a couple of extra times.

Today was the opening day of The Fair, and i was off work all afternoon.  What better way to spend it than at The Fair? 

It was a lovely afternoon.  Weather wasn’t too hot, and i spent time doing all the things my family isn’t interested in.   Listening to bands.  Wandering aimlessly.   Visiting a whole wing that we never bother to go to.  It was lovely.

Just one problem.  About every third person i saw was carrying a yardstick.  Seriously.  i’ve never seen so darn many yardsticks in my life.  What are they all going to do with them?  They can’t all be into spanking, can they?   

Sigh.

It really made me realize that i was actually going to have to find the booth where they give them away, get one, and carry it around with me too.  And i was tempted to do it today and get it over with.  BUT-

– i know that’s not how Sir wanted me to do it.  He specifically talked about me doing it when i was with my family, and carrying it around with me all day.   And really, it’s not about getting a yardstick, even if it is for Him to use, um, on me.   (I keep saying that because it turns me on, you know.  Makes my pussy tingle, all hot and wet.  Gives me little rushes…)

But anyhow,  He could just buy a yardstick if that were the whole point, right?

i know the point is that i’ll have to come up with a rationale for getting a yardstick.  i’ve been practicing in my head.  Casual.  To my sister, “O, you know what?  i want to make sure and get a yardstick this year.  Yes, a yardstick.  i just thought it’d be a good idea.  They come in handy, you know.  When?  Ummmm, when Sir wants to use it on me?”

O, dear.  That won’t work will it?   Fortunately, in my family i’m allowed to have whims and be vague about why.  As long as they don’t figure out i’m trying to hide something.  If they do, i’ll need a back-up confession of some sort.   

Which is another part of the point of the assignment, right?  Look how much energy i’m putting into thinking about this.   Squirming the whole time.

Good grief, if you could have read my mind at The Fair today!  All those couples with yardsticks – i’d look at them and think, “Really?  That’s just for measuring stuff?  You don’t have a fancy tape measure at home?”  And then i’d flash on me, and Sir, and the yardstick and…

And it makes me nervous and excited and... i don't even know what else. O, and hot, yes, it makes me incredibly hot.

So that’s the point of the assignment, i think, and when i’m carrying the darn yardstick around with me, feeling the wood in my hand, having to remember it – well.  You know what i’ll be thinking about. 

And as i write that, i shiver, my pussy clenches…  how easy i am…  It makes me feel

– it makes me feel submissive.  You know, kicks in that whole “just want to please Him” thing.  That’s why i didn’t just run grab a yardstick today.

i want to be a good girl.

Just two more days.

Tags: , , , ,

Three and still counting…

19 Aug

Three more days!  Til Sir D’s visit, that is, and i have no idea what to expect.   Yikes.  Well, something might happen with the yardstick…  (shiver)  but maybe not.  Ropes, whips, nipple clamps, violet wands – who knows?   Ok, not whips, probably not whips.  We’re not even close to whip territory.  i don’t think.  Really.

Ok, i’m going to stop thinking about whips right now.  Now.

Hitachis, that’s what i’m gonna think about.  <smiles>

Besides, that’s not even what’s on my mind today.  

Sir and i were talking last night about the blog, which He likes (thank goodness.  Can you imagine if He didn’t?)  He said He wished there was someone He could show it to, but there wasn’t anyone.  So – give me a problem and i’ll look for a solution – i say, “What about S?”

S is a friend of His – a “like family” kind of friend.  i haven’t met her.  Saw a picture of her, and, of course, she’s gorgeous.  Which is nice.  Really.  i rarely do ‘jealous,’ and i’m certainly not going to with someone who matters to Him, and who was in His life long before i came along.   So that’s all good.

And really, it’s perfectly logical that if He wants to share the blog with someone, she’s a reasonable choice.   But –

It occurs to me after we get through chatting – omigod – what was i thinking????   i’ve never met this woman, and i’m encouraging Him to suggest she read my blog?  When i’m probably, maybe, actually going to meet her someday.  O.  My.  And her first impresson of me will already have been formed.  Based on my blog.  Yikes.

Ok.  Breathe. 

i’m breathing.   

This is not a big deal.  Right? 

O.  Except of course, um, she could be reading this too.   Um, will be reading this, probably.

Hi, S.  (waves… smiles…)

Yes, nice to meet you too.  i’ve heard a lot about you – all good, of course.   Just a little nervous, cause, you know, what if you really hate me?  Or just don’t like me at all?  Or – i don’t know.   It just didn’t occur to me, when I suggested to Sir that He show you the blog – it just didn’t occur to me that you would know me, but i wouldn’t know you.  i was just thinking it would be nice for Him to have someone to show it to.

But it’s ok.  i’m not really worried about it –  it was just a momentary ‘omigod.’ 

So,  welcome to this part of my world, S.     Feel free to leave comments – i love comments.  Or e-mail me or friend me on FB or something.  You know, if you want to.  If Sir D really does show you my blog.  If you don’t decide you hate me…  <smiles>

Tags: , ,

Countdown

18 Aug

Four (4) more days til Sir D’s visit!  

Yes, i am counting, and wanting and waiting, with maybe a fantasy or two on top of it all.  It’s easier when the end’s in sight.   And i haven’t been complaining either, at least i don’t think i have. 

(Let me go ahead and apologize now to all of you who have truly LONG distance relationships.  i KNOW i don’t have anything to complain about.  i don’t know how you do it…)

But i can be excited now, and that’s soooo nice.  Not only that, He’s given me something to think about. 

We were chatting last night about the State Fair, IM’ing actually.  i love The Fair; Sir D apparently doesn’t so much.  Which is hard for me to understand, but that’s a topic for a different blog, right?   However, He does know The Fair, which is cool.  So He was laughing and asking me what my favorite part of The Fair was – the cows, the mirror defogging stuff you can buy, and so on.  And i was laughing too, assuring Him that nooooo, that wasn’t my favorite part. 

And then.  Then He mentions yardsticks.  You know, the ones they give away.  “At least they’d be handy for spanking,” He says.

“I’d like you to bring me a yardstick,” He says.

And this rush of heat runs through my body.  And my pussy throbs.  O, my.  Is He serious?   Really? 

i pause, unsure what to say.   Pause long enough that he types:

“waiting”

and i think, o, my, feel myself getting wet, as i slowly and carefully type,  Yes,  Sir.”  

Because it sends a rush through me.  I’m flooded with images – searching for the yardstick booth, carrying it around with me, knowing what He has in mind for it… 

Ok, it's just a yardstick. But not in His hands - it becomes much more...

And He knew that – He totally knew what it would do to me.  And He knows that carrying it around with me will keep Him in my mind all day.

And having written it, i’m aroused again. 

Tags: ,

Wanting

16 Aug

And now it is just wanting – wanting to be touched.  Wanting to feel His hand in my hair, wrapping my hair in His fist, tugging gently, firmly, making me whimper.  Wanting to touch Him, stroke him gently.  To caress with my mouth; kissing, licking, sucking.  Wanting to be filled,  to feel His cock deep inside me.

Sigh.

It’s wanting to feel all the intensity He offers.  Rope against my skin.  The flogger.  His cock in my mouth.   That rising – higher, higher – over the top and down… ahhhhh, yes. 

Sigh.

It’s not that i can’t do without.  Of course i can.  And even now, still, i feel those twinges of shame at wanting. 

“Slut.”  Well, yes.  That’s right. 

Although, not quite, cause the definition of slut is just “a person, especially a woman, who’s considered promiscuous.”   And it’s not about lots of men, neither the longing nor the twinges of shame,  they’re about the desire.  “Slut” doesn’t say anything about the pleasure and the passion.  Liking it.  Loving it.  Is there a word for that?   

If there is, i don’t know it.  Don’t know the word  for a woman who feels this longing, wanting ache.  Of course it doesn’t help that i keep  reading other people’s blogs – nilla’s and sin’s and mick’s especially, o, and brooke’s – that keep me stirred up… like just thinking about it right now does, leaves me squirming here at my computer, all alone, before the crack of dawn. 

Well.  Time to get ready for work.  Push all this out of my mind.  It seems like a long time since i’ve blogged, even though it really hasn’t been, and really hasn’t been so long since i’ve seen Him.  i know that.  But there’s a time warp in the lifestyle that can turn a few days into forever…  or maybe it’s not about time at all. 

i could shut it down, you know.  Slam the door on all of it – spankings and nipple clamps, cock worship and Yes, Sir.   Go back to mundane.  Not vanilla sex – no, thanks.  But the day-to-day without D/s.  In some ways, it would be easier, without this stupid vulnerability, without the wanting more, without the need for Him.

Sigh.

But there is value in “sitting with it” too.  Like a form of mindfulness meditation, being able to hold the wanting without acting on it has power.  Choosing not to solve it, as if it were a math problem, but to appreciate the beauty of it.  Like a sunset, it just is.

So i hold it all inside me.  Still kneeling, palms up, smiling slightly…   

Tags: ,

The Source of My Submission

12 Aug

My friend, J, wanted to know when i knew, how i knew, that i was submissive.  It seems like always.  i always knew.    It took me a long time to learn not to talk about it in my vanilla relationships – which was all my relationships, for most of my life. 

Telling a vanilla man that you want to please him  more than anything, to give yourself to him, to belong to him – o, not such a good idea.   Sometimes, they just don’t get it, and think you’re weird.  Sometimes, they think it means it’s ok to ignore your needs and wants altogether.   Either way, not so much fun for the submissive woman. 

Not so much fun for me.

So i learned pretty quickly that it was best to keep those thoughts to myself.  And mostly i did, but every once in a while, i’d fill up with love and longing, and the feeling would spill over into words.  i just couldn’t help it. 

Occasionally, it even seemed like it was going to be ok.  Like maybe i could express my sense of self that way and he would respond with control and demands, and acceptance and care and support.  But being controlling and making demands don’t  make a man a dominant.  So it rarely ended well. 

i’d end up taking back all those things i said.  i’d assure him that hell, no, i didn’t mean that crap, and he’d better quit… whatever it was he’d decided was his right to do.  Then i’d lock all those feelings back up, way deep inside, and promise myself i’d leave them there forever. 

And that was ok – this is not about feeling sorry for me at all.

But i’d feel stupid then, like i should have already known better – and i did, i’d remind myself.   i knew better; it was just a momentary slip.  A mistake.  Not to be repeated. 

So when i was talking to my friend today about how i’d always known i was submissive, he asked me if i had a mental image that had always been with me.  An image that expressed my submission.

i had to stop and think.  Look inside myself for a minute or two.  And there it was. 

A feeling more than a visual image, but so strong.  Open.  Receptive.  Giving.  Reaching out. Wanting to please.

i can feel it. 

Of course the visual is me kneeling.  Face uplifted.  My arms may be bent, close to my body, palms up, or resting on my thighs.  Or clasped behind my back.    

i am waiting – waiting to be directed, told how to please.  It turns me on, the feeling, and it scares me still.  It is still such a vulnerable place to be.

Well.  i think about it now, look back at those times i made the mistake of talking about how i felt.  i think, maybe it wasn’t so much a mistake.  Maybe it was an opportunity and he, whoever it was that i loved that much, just didn’t know what to do with me at all.  Maybe i wasn’t wrong for taking the chance, even though it didn’t work out the way i would have liked.

Back then, i didn’t even understand it.  Now, i read other people’s blogs, or discussions on Fetlife and it’s all explained.  It’s not unusual, being submissive.  Not uncommon.   That’s a wonderful feeling.  Such a relief.

It makes me think that maybe there is Someone who will truly want what i have to offer.  Someone who’ll understand what i need.  Whew.  There’s a scary thought.  You have no idea how scary.

And the thing is, it’s not like it’s going to be all kneeling and cock worship.  There is actually more to me than what’s in this blog.  (I know – who’dda thought it???)   And i need someone who wants the whole frigging package.  Maybe Sir D.  i don’t know.  We haven’t known each other long enough to know.  

So i’ve been thinking about all this, and talking about it, and just needed to write it down.  i know this isn’t a “sexy” post.  No pictures.  No moans or cries.  Not an orgasm or a spanking to be found.   But this – the feeling, the posture – is at the heart of all the rest.  It’s the source of my submission. 

Tags: , ,

Sensual treats

10 Aug
 It’s not just the orgasms that hold my attention, you know, although they do for sure.  It’s the mind fuck too.  Never knowing what’s going to happen next.  What He’ll actually make me do, and when He’s just teasing.

 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.

Tags: , , ,

The Ride Begins

8 Aug

As another rush of pleasure runs through my body i cry out again – ahhhhh – ohhhhhh – ohhhhmigod… 

Sir D keeps leading me into new experiences of orgasm – i would have thought at this point i would know them all, but no.  Last night He started with a nipple, twisting and pulling til i whimper.   And whimper some more.  Then both nipples, and i’m gasping and trembling, and hot – o, sooooo hot – and He just keeps doing it til:

“Can you cum like this?” He asks.  Conversationally.

He’s taken my breath away, i can’t quite answer.  i think i shake my head.   But i’m not sure.  Maybe i could, but maybe not.   

“Not right now, anyhow?” He says, and i nod in agreement.  He’s still doing it, a nipple between each thumb and forefinger, squeezing casually – while i moan.    O, i don’t think i can take it, and i don’t want Him to stop. 

Then He does stop, and, “Here, open your legs,” He says and His hand is between my legs, on my pussy, which is so hot and wet, i know i’m lying in puddles.  And for a minute His fingers are inside me and i’m pushing against his hand, rubbing on Him, trying to satisfy this burning urge – O, yes – and He pulls them out again.  Mmmphf.  O, no, but i don’t say it.

And the hand that had been pleasuring me – it smacks me, He smacks me, between the legs, on my sensitive, already swollen pussy, smacking me right there over and over.  O – more O’s – Ohhhhhhh.

And once, i almost start to pull my legs together, as if to protect my poor exposed pussy, but He lays a hand on my inner thigh, just a hand but i get the message. i open my legs wider for Him.  

Then He stops.  And my poor exposed pussy, my hot, dripping wet cunt feels bereft.  The aching space between my thighs wants His touch back.  But –

“I think I have something here,” He says, turning His back on me.  His travel bag of toys is nearby, but i can’t see it, can’t see what He’s taking out.  It could be anything, and i wait, with my legs spread wide, nipples still hard and swollen, pussy wet and dripping, it could be anything and i’m ok with that.

“I think you’ve seen this before,” He says.

It looked a lot like this - i don't think it was this, but i don't know what it was exactly, and this picture is the closest i could find.

And the next thing i know, my legs are open wider, He’s holding that, the litte black vibrator, right there – o, right there on that spot.  And i squirm and push my hips up, i moan and feel myself climbing higher, legs tingling from deep inside.  i think i might die of pleasure and then O – O, yes, over the top, o, yes and starting to tumble down….

…but not so far.  Cause then i’m climbing up again – O, o, my, climbing right up – mmmmm – and He’s still pressing it on me, only He’s playing with my nipples with His other hand and – ahhhhhh – o, yes, again – ahhhhh – tumbling, tumbling….

….still not so far down.  O My God.  O, again?  Really?  And i am – i’m going up again, my hips pushing, rising off the bed, legs all tingly, feeling it build from somewhere deep in my core – and this time He catches my wrists in one hand, pins them above my head.  O, His hand with the vibrator pinning me down, His other hand holding me firmly, holding me caught riding a building wave, i’m captured by the sensations – and then, feeling it begin to surge –  – O – here i go again – up and up, and over the top, and this time, o, yes, i come tumbling and shaking down and down, waves of pleasure spending themselves through my body…

O.  O.  and ahhhhhhhh.  Whew.  O, Sir.  Mmmmmmm.  Purring now…  O, Sir.

Namaste.

Tags: , , , , ,

Getting ready…

7 Aug

Sir D will be here today.  It’s like standing in line for the roller coaster.

The prepping is part of the fun – not the laundry, although that has to be done too, but the bathing, and shaving, deciding what to wear…  

i want to e-mail Him, ask Him what time He thinks He’ll get here.   i want to call Him just to hear His voice.  And get angry at myself for being silly.  It’s 6:17 a.m. on Saturday morning.  There’s no hurry, i have some restraint.  Have i mentioned that i hate feeling needy?

And yet – typing those words sends a shiver down my spine.  A shiver that connects with my pussy, i feel myself getting wet, feel myself opening, as if just saying the words helps prepare me for His touch.

Squirming now.

How can it take so little to make me so hot?  He hasn’t told me not to touch myself this time, and i’m tempted, but – once again – i’m going to show some restraint.  i’ll stay on simmer for now.

So now that my body’s tingling, nipples halfway hard, now that i can feel my pussy throbbing and my breathing quicken – it’s time to go find clean towels and wash the kitchen sink.  And wonder.  Wonder what toys He’ll bring, what we’ll talk about.  What we’ll do. 

Memories dance in my mind…  Fantasies slip in and out…  mouths and cocks, spankings and nipple clamps, orgasms and moans…

Ok – towels, sink, laundry, shave… 

 <smiles>  Later.  

Tags: , ,

Submission

5 Aug

Discerning Dom wrote another wonderful post, this one on practices that maintain the D/s dynamic when other things – like regular life – get in the way.  http://discerningdom.blogspot.com/2010/07/question-no-3.html

i love his blog because he writes either very erotic pieces that turn me on, or very thought provoking pieces.   These also  turn me on because he often seems to have read my mind.  There are few thing more seductive than feeling understood.   

Feeling understood has an element of  being exposed, and that’s arousing too.  A theme that runs through the lifestyle is “being seen,” an implied nakedness of both body and mind that’s intimate and intense.  Ultimately, it may be what we submissive people most crave – to be exposed and accepted, right?

So Discenrning Dom’s post got me thinking about how D/s relationships take the shame out of so many aspects of self.   He says:

“Submissive girls need maintenance. You can’t just park them in a corner and expect them to be in full working order whenever you decide you need them again. A submissive girl, like any girl but more so, needs constant encouragement and reassurance. She is prey to doubts and loss of confidence. Does he like me enough? If I haven’t heard from him, does that mean he’s not thinking of me?” 

and suddenly i don’t feel ashamed of all the times i feel that way.  Magical. 

When i was involved with Mike Moore, at the very beginning, he’d call me at least half a dozen times every day at work.  We rarely talked during the  work day; he’d leave messages on my voice mail.  Sometimes he told me how beautiful he thought i was.  Or what pleasures we’d be enjoying after i got off work.  Often, he sang to me:  “I love yoooou, Ba-a-by, and if it’s quite all right, I need you, Baby…” 

He couldn’t sing.  i knew it was insane.  And i loved it.  i began to crave it – if I left my office for a meeting, i couldn’t wait to get back and check my voice mail.   It was intoxicating, swimming in a sea of approval and attention.   With the multitude of orgasms he gave me on top of that – omigod,  just hearing his voice made me wet. 

Sigh.  Well, that was a long time ago, and of course that level of attention doesn’t last.  If you’ve read my previous post on Mike, Memories and Orgasms  http://beingaisha.blog/2010/06/10/memories-and-orgasms/ , you know that he died several years ago.  i’d quit being involved with him before that, and it was like ripping a piece of myself off to give him up.  Of course, i would have lost pieces of myself if i’d stayed too.

i remind myself sometimes that abusive relationships often start with that intense level of attention.  She feels like he’s interested in, cares about, every aspect of her.  “He even wants me to tell him what I’m wearing every morning,” she may tell me.   “He wants to spend all his time with me.”  “He thinks about me all the time.” 

Bathed in the limelight of his approval,  she’s unprepared for it to suddenly flip to disapproval.  And rage.  And that’s where the path separates from BDSM, right?  The consensual part, the negotiations, the clear agreement about how things will be, is missing. 

It makes me wonder sometimes if men and women in abusive relationships would benefit from learning about the lifestyle.   I wonder if they’re really just Doms and subs without a clue on how to express themselves and their sexuality in a safe and sane way.

And maybe not.  But it’s something I think about, the similarities and differences between BDSM and abusive relationship.  Sometimes,  it starts to feel too complex and convoluted.  i don’t always want to analyze it to death.  Then i re-anchor myself with a memory or  a fantasy.  Like this one:

i’m lying on the bed, on my back,  just a sheet covering me from the waist down.  Sir D is beside me, resting too.   Only His right hand touches me, it reaches across His own body and grasps my right nipple between the thumb and forefinger.  Almost idly, He toys with my nipple.  Pinching.  Pulling.  Twisting a little.

Mmmpf.  O.

There is a direct line from my nipple to my pussy.  As He continues tugging, my pussy clenches.  i am already wet, now my hips begin to move.  i barely notice, i’m focused on the nipple that he’s continuing to tweak.   My pussy throbs.

Without thought, my right hand moves toward the space between my legs.  He notices, His left hand grasps my forearm.  Without a word, He stops my progress, presses my arm, palm down, on the bed as if to say, “Stay.”  So i do, with a mental sigh. 

My nipple is still in His grasp.  My hips still moving.   i’m acutely aware of my hand resting on the bed, the hand not touching myself.

“Your nipples are really sensitive,” He says.  He sounds a little surprised.

“Mmmm.  Yes.  They are,” i say.  Growing hotter, doing little hip circles, lying there on my back, while He toys with me.  Not moving my hand any closer to my increasingly wet pussy.  All my senses focused on the moment. Waiting.

i guess i would have laid there forever if He wanted.  It makes me shiver now, knowing that i would have.  In that moment, i was more connected to sensation than thought, more connected to His will than to my own.   Utterly  submissive. 

Mmmmm.   Just thinking about it makes me want to purr. 

Tags: , , , ,

← Older Entries
Newer Entries →