Sometimes I wonder what it is that is so deep inside me that makes me want to do some of the things that I want to do. I also wonder sometimes what it is inside of Richard that makes him want to do to me what he wants to do to me. A few months ago an email from a reader speculated that Richard must have some deep seated hatred of women. I laugh at that. Actually he adores women….me especially.
I try not to wonder so much. It plagues me every so often though especially when I find I can’t shake a thought. I don’t think Richard thinks too much about the ‘whys’ anymore.
Not that there isn’t a conflict there for him. He has said to me before that he never believed he could hurt someone he loved. The conflict for him regarding me is obvious in my mind. He is fiercely protective of me yet he hurts me. There is no line there like one might expect. I suppose it is hard to explain.
We talk sometimes about how far we would go. How far he would go…and the line turns scary dark when we talk about it. Yet it is a flowing line…erotic and compelling and it lures me to cross over it just as he does. There was a time when the idea of someone putting a knife against my skin would have been a hard limit of mine. Needles….well, they would have been out of the question. I was a bit naïve I suppose. I never even thought of needles or knife play. It wasn’t even anything that Mark and I discussed and he and I certainly experimented a lot. Looking back I think he may be the only other person that I would have trusted to do something like that to me. He was always careful with me, like Richard. I wonder sometimes if there was more to him than what I saw…
Like with Richard. He has this incredibly dark side that scares me. I guess it isn’t him that scares me as much as it is the idea of what he thinks about sometimes. I mentioned before the nails and razor blade fantasy he has. And yes I know he commented that some things are best left as fantasy but is that really true? I imagine there was a time where he thought needle play was just something to be fantasized about…where having me tied beneath him as he slowly scores my skin with his knife was only a dream. I wonder what crossed him over. I wonder what it would take to lure him a bit further over the line. Is it simply me being willing? Is it me offering myself to him….like I do every time he touches me? I wonder when I am not in Richard’s life anymore where will he put all of this?
And what do I think about that? What would I say or think or feel if he left my side and returned to me carrying a razor blade. What would I do if he placed it at my throat…or against my cunt. Could I speak if he asked me to beg him to cut me? I don’t know. Would it be so very different than my knife? What would it feel like….these are my thoughts as I quietly contemplate his fantasies. I don’t have any limits with Richard. He has proven that time and time again and I willingly embrace whatever he gives me.
I am held in a scary yet comforting place…I trust him. I want him to hurt me..to grow me and help me learn and experience everything that I know I want to taste. There is so much.
I wonder, especially now, how much time we have? I worry something will be left undone, or unsaid. I guess I don’t want him to look back at my time with him and wish he had done this or that…I want to complete that series in his head. Maybe so there are no more fantasies….only memories and a sense of fulfillment that we lived it together. After all he has given to me….can’t I in fact leave him with that?