Sometimes it is easy being submissive.
Somedays it is even easy being Richard’s submissive. 😉
There really are two sides to it all. There is the floaty feeling of being nurtured and cared for, cherished and protected. That is the feeling that lingers for so long afterwards. It is the softer side of submission. I like this. I like knowing that I am giving Richard something noone else ever has..that noone else ever could. I thrive in his admiration of me, his love for me…his awe of what I can so unabashedly offer him. The softer side often comes after the pain, almost like the reward for taking it. Though for a masochist like me most of the time the pain is reward enough.
On the other hand there are times that submission means just taking pain. Just taking it, not questioning the whys of it all..just remembering my self designed role and why I am in his life. It is not questioning from where the pain comes from or what is the driving force behind it… it is allowing submission to take me someplace else. Where I am less of a sweet toy or a cherished pet and become more of a receptacle or an outlet for his own pain. It is hard to explain that. There have been times in my relationship with Richard where he just needed me to take pain for him. In many ways it seems as if he has had years of frustration inside of him. Sure he had the same submissive for 12 years before me but in my mind I have a theory that because he always describes his wife as so emotionally manipulative he must have a lot of frustration. Ex. pretends to be hurt or sick..or lost. Strange stuff like that- he doesn’t criticize her as much as tells me stories.
It is too simple to say he just needed to hurt me. The other afternoon was like that…it was the type of afternoon that prompted him whispering to me that he didn’t want a broken toy as I lay there trembling in his arms. It’s a paradox that I have talked about before. Sometimes he seems content to hold me and just kiss me…deep intimate kisses.
Today I felt something off- We were talking. He was holding me. I had about decided that he wasn’t planning on doing much besides that. I took his quiet demeanor for just being somewhat relaxed. He had just returned to the country and some personal business of his had been completed. In some ways his life had just been simplified…in others things were just just started to turn.
My head was on his chest and his hand was stroking my back. I was still fully clothed as he was- see why I thought my owner was feeling somewhat relaxed? “I need you to get up and take off your skirt- only your skirt. Walk over there and get the paddle. Come back and lay exactly where you are right now.”
His orders were crisp and direct and I obeyed them immediately. I removed my skirt down to a pale pair of yellow panties…retrieved the paddle and walked back to the bed. I curled back up against his side and rested my head back on his chest. His heartbeat was faster, the only evidence of his interest in what he was doing. He seemed a little detached to me, and I am not accustomed to that from him. His dark eyes weren’t smiling…his expression was not soft or loving or any of the other little anchors I need as I enter in this sometimes dark ocean of being owned by a man as complex as Richard.
He started by rubbing the paddle against my panty clad bottom. This wasn’t just any paddle. It is large, round and thin, the kind children play with at the beach bouncing a ball back and forth. It is a stinging piece of wood that I regret introducing into our toy box. He started to hit me with the paddle…usually I would say spank me with the paddle, but this felt different somehow. He was hitting me hard with a stinging series of blows on each cheek.
I buried my head against his chest and breathed through the pain of the paddle. It was a pain that would have been impossible to take if I had been in any other position. Laying across his chest somehow helped. He was all around me. The beating of his heart blended with the smack of the paddle in my ears…his familiar scent in my nose and a bit of his shirt in my mouth as I tried to bite down on something to not cry out too much.
There was a feeling in the air around us. Like he was just pouring something into me and in my head I was awash in confusion and pain. I went back and forth. There were seconds of feeling resentful…like he was taking something out on me. Have you ever felt like that…like you just couldn’t touch what it was that made something a bitt off but you could feel it nonetheless? It felt different. And knowing his life right now I knew what it was…I didn’t like that. Yet I know better than to question what it is I give to him on any given day. The fact I am privy to his emotions and sorrows, his joys and dreams is nothing less than a privilege for me and one that I know he can take away at anytime. He has let me inside him so I know, I can sense where he is when he hurts me.
Today he was lost somewhere inside himself and he used me to feel better. I could feel the pain of the paddle lessen his own. It is something that it so hard to capture, so impossible difficult and almost pointless to try and write about. I felt honored.
As a submissive, as Richard’s submissive, what right do I have to question from where the pain he gives me comes from? What gives me the right to think that our interaction always has to revolve around mutual pleasure? In fact, haven’t I been lucky that for the most part he has given me so much pleasure, so much of the good side of submission? Not that he hasn’t consistently provided me with pain… we all know he has….but it was always with love, with the end goal being mutual satisfaction.
Like I said, this day was different. As the paddle continued to land on my bottom I whimpered into his chest…I whispered that it was enough, that I didn’t think I could continue. He tightened his grip on my and slipped my panties down to my knees. I threw my hands behind me and in the same detached voice he told me to move them…unless I wanted them hurt I needed to move them. I moved them of course…pulling them beneath me hoping I didn’t feel the need to cover myself. He rubbed his hands across my bottom telling me it was hot…and red and that he wasn’t finished with me yet. He told me to ask for more. I asked for more and clutched at him….tensing knowing it was going to be hard. It was. I imagined blisters and broken skin…forgetting the paddle rarely does that. At one point I begged him to please put the paddle away, to use the strap or the cane…just no more of the paddle. “Three more on each cheek” he said “They are going to be hard and fast. Ask me for them.”I took a deep breath swallowing a cry…..not wanting to beg him to stop when I knew what I was taking was what he needed from me on that day. Just like on some days when he sees me he needs to fuck me….or he needs me to suck his cock….today he needed to hurt me, really hurt me and I didn’t like how I was caught up in my head on the reason behind his mood. The reason shouldn’t matter to me. Meeting his needs…even his darker needs should be what matters. I asked him for more….not recognizing my voice.The final strokes were rocking. They bit into me like the cane never could. The paddle has such coverage. It is a deep and stinging pain all at once.
I thought that would be enough as I lay trembling beside him. Somehow he got up. Somehow he came back with the strap and he was bringing it down across my red bottom before I fully realized he was gone. I felt like he held nothing back, like he was intent on breaking something…if not me then something in himself. As he beat me his hand stroked my dripping cunt….he said I was soaking his pants and he told me to cum against his finger. I was already cumming…needing to release some of the energy that he had poured into me. The strap continued and he pressed into my back hard getting me into the perfect arched back position that he loves. I struggled, my knees trembled, I wanted to collapse but did not.
Finally…finally he dropped the strap. He laid his head on my back….and just breathed. He breathed. His face felt hot…damp against my skin and I stilled. We were like that for what seemed like a long,long time…he at last pulled me close to him whispering a million things into my hair that I couldn’t hear…that I couldn’t understand. He had what looked like tears on his face and his eyes held an expression that I had really ever seen before. He kissed me on the lips. He put his forehead against my forehead and told me he loved me. “I love you, it’s more than loving you, it’s bigger than love.” he whispered. We were both recovering and I am not sure who needed it most. His fingers again went down between my legs…pulling a hard orgasm out of me. “Please…” I whispered. “Please what pixie?” he asked.
I didn’t know what I wanted. He said not to worry.. That I just needed to know he would take from me what he needed. That was the joy in being submissive…that I didn’t need to worry about what he needed or that I would somehow leave him unsatisfied…that he would take what he needed.
As if I hadn’t just learned that lesson.