There was an instant aching arousal that consumed me almost the minute I entered the room. I am driving to meet him and my body feels tight with arousal. My breasts ache in such a way I know that if he touches them I will stop breathing. I wonder as I pull in and slow my car if I am breathing. I sit quietly in my car and take a deep breath my heart beats faster, my excitement and my nervousness grows. Separately I can handle these feelings, together they overwhelm me.
Moments later I am naked with Richard. Richard undressed me. He has this way of undressing me that makes me feel more than naked, almost as if along with my clothing his fingers remove layers of confusion, insecurities and ambiguity. All of what collects and settled on me he can strip away with a touch. I know there will never be a time when a man undresses me and I do not think of Richard. This feeling is not making me sad today. If I lost him tomorrow for whatever reason I know that if I spread it all out in front of me what I’ve gained is so much more than what I’ve lost. His influence and thoughts of him will walk with me for the rest of my life. There are so few people in my life who have made such an impact on me. This is a feeling that can overwhelm me too. I sit here and I write and I think to myself that I wish everyone could know him. That way you could see who he is and how he handles me and why I, the girl who never trusts, can trust him with everything.
Now I am kneeling, soft carpet beneath my knees. He’s allowed me to leave my panties and bra on for the moment. I am by his chair. His legs are open and my head is resting against the inside of his leg. Richard is fully dressed. Today he is in black and it is my favorite color when he has it on. It was as if he knew how the evening would play out and dressed the part of the darkened soul. His hands in my hair quieted me, settled me and I knew I was prepared to do whatever he asked of me. His hand tightened just a bit on the back of my neck but the message to lift my head was obvious. I looked at him. “Did you come to submit to me?” I looked away, I looked down or around. I looked anywhere except at the tender darkness in his face. “Look at me. Did you come to submit to me?”
The room was dim but not dark and I could see him gazing down at me. His emotions live in his eyes and they warmed my naked skin as much as his fingers grazing my back did. He pressed my head back against his leg and I breathed in the familiar scent of him.
I sometimes forget when I write in my blog that my readers don’t all know the broad spectrum of emotions I balance on when I submit to Richard. I assume sometimes that it is easy to understand what I write about then I realize how incredible the true power exchange he and I share really is. I know that years ago when I first accepted this side of myself a blog like this would have been helpful. It would have been helpful because I really try to keep this real.
When I kneel there in front of him the feelings that consume me are almost something that I wonder if I have a right to feel…there is this peace around me. It is startling. There could be missiles outside the window, 15 inches of snow piling up outside or any other catastrophe threatening the gentleness of the moment and I know if he had me kneel in front of him, if he allowed my head to rest against his leg that everything else would simply melt away. On my knees in front of him feels more natural to me than standing by his side. It is a part of who we are to each other that quiets everything else for me. Maybe for him too….I forget that sometimes; I forget that having me do that may pull him deeper into what we are together and further away from where he was an hour before. I want to be someone he can lose himself in…where we can hide beneath that blanket feeling of being separate from the rest of the world. I also forget that he needs to prepare his own mind for what he is about to do to me. Imagine this all American looking sophisticated man who to the rest of the world looks as normal and gentle yet I see him and look through all of that. I know all of that is as much a part of him as what he gives to me so I value it as much yet I know there is the darker side of him that is intense. That part of him is mine. He gives it to me because I can take it. Because I want it.
On this day after he undressed me, after he had me kneel at his knee after he spoke gently to me… he told me to stand up in front of him. Of course I obeyed him and he glided his hands across my skin in such a way there was no doubt in my mind or his that I was his. He told me to step up on the ottoman and turn towards him. The fabric was soft beneath my feet and he held my hand until I found my balance. I loved how his hands moved along my skin and I loved how he told me to turn around so he could see me from behind. His hands touched me everywhere, they slipped beneath the fabric of my bra to twist nipples, they cupped my bottom and pressed against my cunt. And when he allowed me to step down my panties were already soaked. It is that raw possessiveness that he wraps around me. It steadies me and prepares me to spend the next few hours with a sadist.
Something entered the room with us on this night. I felt something there and it was all around us. As if the core of what we are to each other had some how been compromised…..as if there was acknowledged doubt regarding where we were and where we were headed. Richard and I have it easy right now—moments are easy between us. I am in a great place in my head, I feel fully submissive to him and less distracted than I have been in the past year. Severing ties with L was the best thing I ever did if I look at it in terms of Richard and I in a box. I do not have to see the two of them together, but more importantly I never have to be ANYONE or ANYTHING to Richard than who and what I am. I can just be his submissive, his pet…or his pixie-pet like he called me in a recent text message. Until it was gone I didn’t realize how horrifically distracting maintaining a relationship with her…and that separate relationship with the man he became when he was with both of us was. Now that I no longer have to deal with that I only have my submission to him and his dominance of me to consider. On the other hand outside of our dynamic Richard does not have it easy right now. I think L liked being involved in the dynamic between the two of us, not that she ever joined us on our nights together but when she and I were building a relationship and even more after we had established that odd sort of friendship between the two of us she was able to control it more, even control me more. My interactions with Richard were often based and even planned on whatever mood L was in at that time. Now I don’t ask….I can’t see and he doesn’t tell. I only need to walk into that room with him and obey him- I only need to offer myself as his submissive and not wonder, or care or focus on her or on that three part relationship we had built. All of a sudden I have the luxury of keeping the part of him that he gives me all to myself. It’s enough. It is working for me because I know Richard is committed to making this work, he is committed to both of us. And when I give myself to him I never feel anyone else in the room. Like I said…I have the luxury of focusing on him and not thinking about the two of them. Since I have not spent time with her or with them as a couple he and I have had two nights together and those two nights have been incredible. They have easily surpassed the nights we shared during the time when the three of us were trying to establish a balance.
So right now what I am getting from R is good. In me he is finding obedience, and the perfect submission that he has taught me.
Yet back on the ranch…. L is asking him to end it with me. Some of what she is saying sounds like ultimatums and of course that throws conflicts around in all directions. So things are not good in paradise right now and I won’t say anything else about that right now except that Richard is somehow still able to make me a priority. I think he acknowledges where my head is, that I am secure in my submission to him and I know what that means to him. It makes his world easier, it also gives him a sure outlet. I’m okay with that. I know he doesn’t want to let me go…not now after all we have overcome. I need him and he needs what I give him…so of course I want to make keeping me easier for him. I am doing a good job here in my own little world. I am going to soak up every second I have with him. So on one hand my heart goes out to L because I know how hard this is however I can also say I know more about her than I ever want to know and that tempers my pity. I think my compassion is with Richard because I think he has the hardest job of all.
But enough about all that….
Last week my interaction with him was scary. It was amazing and scary. It had something to do with what entered the room with us that night I am sure. A lot of it is still jumbled up in my head. I know that when he helped me step down from the ottoman he again had me kneel. He pressed my head into his leg and soon his cock filled my mouth. He told me not to suck but to just let it sit in my mouth. I felt a warm humiliation creeping up my back. I was balancing between all of the confusing feelings that I press backwards time and time again and the hot rawness of that wanton side of me that craves him making me do things like that. I am what I am to him…that’s another way of saying it is what it is. When he has me sit with his cock in my mouth when I just need him to kiss me is as confusing to me as when he makes me cum again and again and I just want him to hurt me.
I know this night was such a blend of tenderness and pain. What he gives me and what I need are somehow communicated without words. I don’t know how I ended up on the bed but was soon there on my knees. I remember him telling me to get on my hands and knees and then not being pleased with how I did it. That isn’t how I want you…I remember him saying something like that. I heard him open the cylinder that transports his collection of canes and I heard him dump them on the bed beside me. This sound has the same effect on me as his belt slipping out of his pants does. I tense and then relax and then tense again. I know what is coming. I feel the urgent need to hurt me coming from him and it feeds my desire to give it to him.
He caned me as hard as he ever has. He may have caned me harder than he ever has. There were moments of broken white pain that made me cry…tears I tried to hide. tears he found and kissed off of my face…tears he encouraged me to cry. There were moments when my need to have him hurt me scared me. When I was so lost in him, in his need, in his dominance of me that I forgot he has the ability to really hurt me; that there is risk there every time we interact.
I feel him balancing on that edge of being fully in control of both of us and then barely in control of himself. He told me scary Richard was there…and I said I didn’t want him, that I didn’t want scary Richard. Only it was too late and even said that. The slight possibility that he had somehow lost a little control of himself only made me want him more, only made me want to give him more, take more. I was consumed by a need stronger than common sense to let him hurt me.
The cane just kept coming…and one second I was begging him to stop and the next I was asking for more. He caned my back, my breasts….everywhere it seemed. He was on top of me and inside of me and I felt him everywhere. Again moments of tenderness snuck in…but there was always the pain he created and gave me. It was such a sensory experience. I wanted to feel everything everywhere….he has this long paint stick and he was using it on me. He had me flipped around and had my knees open…the paint stick was slapping my thighs, it was stinging my cunt. God it hurt so bad but I wanted it…..I was arching towards it, needing it, needing him to give it to me. I remember holding my hands out to him…in a moment of reckless need and holding them flat knowing he would know what I needed. He brought the paint stick down again and again on my hands…the noise loud in the room.
I know I could say more, I know I could track the night step by step and I am tempted to do so. It’s hard to not allow myself to go back. It’s hard to not tell you how he made me cum again and again until I was so consumed with pleasure my body would not stop trembling or there was a time when he was so deep inside of me I could feel his every shift throughout my body.
It seems we are getting back on track…we are in that place right now where he does not need to be so careful with me. My remission is strong, I am feeling more like myself and we have learned a lesson. Life is short and it can be taken away in a second. My health can slip away with a breath and we both know it. I have a new appreciation for every moment I am allowed to spend with the ones I love. I focus less on the petty and more on the person. It is a good place to be. I feel like I am growing again.