S/M

slipping

There wasn’t a lot for them to say to each other. When the day came for them to meet they wondered what it would be like. See, some things had changed between them; a little time, a little space, a lot of circumstances. Some things of course never change and it was those things that drew them back together. She carried more than a little trepidation into the apartment with her that night. Time is a funny thing. It isn’t so much the amount of time that passes as it is what transpires during that said amount of time. It is the conversations that happen or do not happen, it is the ‘life’ that happens, all the things that continue to fly past. All of the ‘stuff’ you can’t stop that changes everything. Or changes nothing.

 

She worried what it would be like when he touched her. Would he look at her differently? Would the need still be there, had it been replaced with something else? And how would she feel when he touched her? Would the enormity of other things in her life make her submission and his Ownership of her seem trivial, would it seem not so front and center? She worried about those things, so did he.

 

They shouldn’t have worried. What you don’t know about them is what they are still figuring out on their own. For all of the angst and pain and craziness that comes with needing what they need and sharing what they share. It is worth it. It has to be worth it because it isn’t some game they play, it isn’t some role they adopt every once and a while..it is their true selves that finally comes out of the shadows. Is it any wonder when they stand together they feel as if the entire world is shut out, as if no one else matters and the only thing that truly exists is each other?

He knew she was vulnerable that night. He knew she may crumble under his dominance and he also knew that she needed him more than she ever had. She came to him without expectations, with a plan to let it all take care of itself. She needed to feel strong and alive and full of everything that is good about surrender and love and pain. He could do that for her. He could do that because she had let him inside. There was a place in her soul where he sat, and really had sat since the day she met him and it tugged at her. It made her think and forget  at the same time and it made her stronger and weaker at the same time, dependent and self sufficient at the same time…and gave her more confidence and self respect and worth than she had ever been able to give to herself. So when he pulled her down beside him that night she felt that feeling of coming home…the feeling of goodness and of everything in the world being right. She was able to close out everything else and be his.

He asked her to stand up in front of him and he helped her rise off her knees so he could undress her. He slipped thin straps off of her shoulder and allowed her summer dress to hang at her waist. His hands knew her. They knew her skin and her softness and they knew what she needed. His words whispered to her that he loved her and that he found her beautiful. He said she amazed him and that he loved looking at her, touching her and all the feeling she pulled from him. He tried to explain to her the conflict in his mind and in his heart. The fierce desire in his blood to hurt her, really hurt her and the protective side, the side of him that wants to cradle her and sing her songs so she will sleep. He tried to explain the ache that causes him, the confusion that even strong sadistic men feel when the needs of their submissive are complicated and multi layered.

What happened next was what they both knew would happen. The real people within surfaced and they were their true selves for only the other sees that. And only the two of them can be in that room when the need that must be satiated surrounds them. It is one of those feelings that just lingers in the air as though stranded. It is hot and deep and it smells carnal between them. How else can pain and desire and surrender smell?

 

She described it later as being devoured. He described it as being just what he needed.

They both need more of the other yet are grateful for what they have. Today, she feels his hands on her, sees the mark of his strap, feels the bruises his mouth and hands left on her…and he feels what few men ever truly feel. He knows what it is like to truly Own another person. He knows what it feels like to hold the blade of a knife at her throat and have her beg him to not cut her and at the same time knowing he will and that she wants it.

 

How lucky they both are to have found the other….how many still search for that perfect person? The person that will never ever judge you or think what you need or want is wrong or bad or disturbing. So many of us never find that or if we do we are foolish enough to let it slip through our fingers. There is no slipping going on here, not today.

 

Right now, for all the other stuff going on day to day there is still no slipping. It is only good.

 

So much good.

 

 

S/M

hope

with me today you are
thinner than a thought
help me salvage clumps of hope
as if pulled from some stuffy drawer
tucked away behind shirts
or maybe socks
unmatched and unnoticed
like the sneering sun mocking me
as it convulses and spits
large sallow sunflower petals
damp across blue
and white
you linger here still
with me today
grabbing at anything
smelling of hope
even as it flies past
like silver slivers
dripping from an overturned jar
melting

bdsm · bondage · caning · D/s · restraints · S/M · spanking

interactive post. :)

He led her to the stool in the center of the room. It was the kind that sits at the foot of a bed, an ottoman really. It was plush enough so that when he guided her down her knees sank into the softness of the velvety fabric. Her hands were tied tightly behind her back. She was blindfolded and the ends of the blindfold tickled the skin on her back. It distracted her like a fly buzzing or a dripping faucet. She didn’t like that sensation. She shook her head slightly to try and shake the annoyance away but silk only caressed her skin causing her to shiver. There was no need to attempt to speak. He gagged her the minute she entered the room. The taste of rubber was strong in her mouth and already her jaw ached. She knew better than to complain, didn’t really want to. She liked the ache just as she liked the sting that still lingered across each of her cheeks from where he had smacked her face as he attached the ball gag.

She felt a little off balance. Her need to sense and receive sensory input was strong so whenever he took that away from her it shook her somehow. She didn’t like the darkness behind the blindfold and she wished she could use her hands to move the fabric kissing her back or better yet to reach out and touch her Owner’s skin.

He slid a hand between her thighs and forced her legs open slightly. She felt his breath on her shoulder and his hand rested gently around her neck. He buckled the soft leather cuffs around her ankles and joined them together attaching her wrists to her ankles by a rope. She was unable to move off of the ottoman unless she lurched to the side and that would only cause an ungraceful fall to the hard floor beneath her. She didn’t try to struggle, didn’t want to. He placed her collar around her neck.

His hands were now on each of her shoulders steadying her slightly. He pulled her back into him slightly allowing her to rest against his body. She felt the rise and fall of his body as he breathed. And then he was gone.

He left her there. Or maybe he didn’t. She didn’t sense him behind her anymore. Couldn’t smell him or hear his breathing. She couldn’t tell if the lights were on in the room or if she was encased in darkness. She didn’t know that she was in fact in a darkened room. The lights were off but she was not alone. He wouldn’t have left her although he liked the fact she thought he had. He watched her squirm a little on the stool, she was trying so hard to be brave.

He fought the urge to hold her, he fought the urge to hurt her too. She needed it, he needed it and she was his to do with as he pleased. Part of him valued the restraint he could show. He liked controlling himself as much as he liked controlling her. He watched as she curled her small toes and her fist clenched and unclenched. He wondered if he would like binding her hands so that she couldn’t even have that release.

He liked the sound of her breathing behind the gag. It was deeper as if she couldn’t take a full breath. He heard her moan softly and it caused him to close his eyes and take a deep breath of his own. The need in the air was shared, the need to hurt her was strong and it was all around him. He knew he could not wait a second longer.

I’m in an inteactive mood today. 😉 What happens next…you tell me lol!!

S/M

thoughts for ‘this’ today of mine

“Everyone wants to live on top of the mountain, but all the happiness and growth occurs while you’re climbing it.”

He whispered into my skin; his breath adding to the dampness on the back of my neck…he whispered that he loved me, he whispered that I was his, that he needed me, and that he would take from me what he needed. His hand flowed down my back, a finger against my spine making me desperate for something more. A bite on my shoulder caused me to moan and another on my neck carried me over into that place of longing where my body is literally aching to be touched, to be used, to be hurt by him.

I was tied to the cross, my calves aching from being up on my toes, my arms trembling from being tied above my head. He stood behind me and teased my body, played with me as if I was just a toy and perhaps at that moment I truly was…as I often am, that is what I was. Toys are usually quiet and still unless they are touched and played with. I was being played with. He had the cane in his hand and he ran the point of it along the back of my legs. I shivered. I felt it again along my sides…a teasing touch along my rib cage causing me to suck in my breath. His gentleness startles me sometimes as much as his cruelty. Both are carnal and natural and real. Both are uniquely him and I get lost in it. I respond to both and they play into each other to the point of one being unable to exist without the other. When he is gentle it never wanders too far from my mind that it can turn hard in a heartbeat. A touch can become a hard pinch, a kiss can grow teeth. It is a consuming experience every time he touches me.

I am a fortunate submissive. I think of people who would question my lifestyle and I realize they have their own ideas of what is erotic, of what is consuming to them and their ideas do not have to match my own. I know that some people look forever to find the physical connection with someone that I have experienced with Richard. I remember thinking to myself a long time ago…lost perhaps in an adolescent fantasy of finding the man who could do all the wicked things to my body that my mind had somehow conjured up. In my mind I was the only one thinking such things…and wasn’t I a horrible person to have this dark longing to be beaten, to be collared, to perhaps even be a slave? Such thoughts crept into my mind as far back as I can remember. I teetered on feeling ashamed of what my mind produced and being titillatingly intrigued that my mind had this darker side.

Then came Mark. A dark knight of a man who taught me all I was feeling was alright. It was good….and he taught me to submit and to respect what my body yearned to give. The surrender of pain and the desire of belonging to someone and trusting so completely you would do anything for him. He taught me to love my submission and he taught me that even when he wasn’t going to be the man who took it from me it would still be good. He showed me what it meant o be loved and cherished for what I hid from everyone else. I have carried that feeling with me…I can pull it out and use it even now when I need to just as I imagine one day when Richard is just an archive to my readers I can pull lessons learned from him and apply them to my life.

Like I said, I am a fortunate submissive. I have known the love and the dark desire of two men who I will be forever grateful for the gifts they provided me. I spent a lot of time this morning reading my archives and the comments that followed. I was surprised at how melancholy I ended up feeling. It made me think of Mark and how we messed that up…but more than that it made me miss who I was when I first started seeing him again, back when I had no negative feelings associated with my submission. Innocent in a way…and part of me mourns that. It also made me realize that something Mark had told me was right. When he and I decided to end it he said it was important for him to know that one day when I looked back at our times together I would smile. I would only smile and not feel sad for the loss of what it is that was so undeniable between us but just smile that we had it….that we touched it and loved it for as long as we possibly could. I’m there. I realized today that the only sadness I feel regarding him now is knowing I disappointed him by some of my choices, I let him down. I have forgiven myself for that now even if he never will. And that’s ok too…because I’ve forgiven him. For everything.

It is a good feeling, freeing and light. I like that. I like knowing that is possible. It helps me as I prepare to move forward into my life, it will help me when it is time for me to look back on the time I shared with Richard and smile. I know that time is coming one day, hopefully later rather than sooner but we never know. There is a great big plan out there for my life somewhere….that is exciting to me. There is a man out there that I haven’t even met whose life will one day be so intertwined with my own there is no clear path between them. It is a powerful feeling that loving and losing love can make one stronger. It isn’t really just a cliché after all, is it? I am a stronger person, a better person for having loved Mark. I am a better person, a stronger person for having loved Richard. It is circular I hope. I learn daily from Richard and the biggest lesson he has taught me is that it is love, not time, that heals all wounds.

I don’t know who wrote this but it is a quote I look to often….”Happiness lies for those who cry, those who hurt, those who have searched, and those who have tried for only they can appreciate the importance of people who have touched their lives.”

Mark told me once in my first few days with Richard that he would be cheering me on the sidelines as I walk down this new path into my submission….I thought of that sentence often over this past year and used it when things got hard. I know that Mark and Richard are a lot alike. One day it will be Richard letting me go and cheering me on. That makes me feel safe and loved and how can any of that be bad?