Two sides of the same coin

There is two sides of our lives but sides doesn’t best describe how it is as sides implies you are looking at one, or the other. It is not like that and yet I cannot find a good analogy.

Much of the time we are an “ordinary” couple with a low level of service, nothing more than an attentive boyfriend shows to his new lover. He holds the door for me, runs my feet when I present them, makes me coffee when I ask, all the things I have come to think of as routine, ordinary, day to day. I know others would see them and think them special, and yet some would see them and think I have cast adrift my independence by not opening the door for myself, still have arms after all.

At the other extreme he is bound, tied at my direction or by my hand, often blindfolded, always at my mercy. He has nothing to do then other than be my boy. Seeing him stood waiting for me with ankle and wrist cuffs in place makes my heart quicken, catches my breath. I am filled with a rush of desire.

Most of the time we live in the pink mixed overlap of the white ordinary day to day life and the red heat of a scene. In that pink the act of opening the door for me never gets old for him & for me acts as a reminder to him of who I am & what place I have in this union. Often questions are posed in such a way as to necessitate that he call me Miss, again a reminder of who I am.

We live in a place where I think nothing of reaching for his crotch while he is making dinner just so that I can hear the protesting noises he makes & feel the rush of knowing he won’t stop me.

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The Everyday Practicalities of Life

We are living together. We have been for 2 months now. Before this when we saw each other it was finite. I spent much of our time together knowing it was going to end, knowing when it was going to end, trying to fit in as much as possible into the time we had. I always had a sense of living on borrowed time and it took away from my enjoyment of now. If we had 3 days I wanted 4, if we had an evening I wanted the whole night. Nothing was ever enough.

Now we are apart when we are working and 1 – 2 nights a week when one of us is out without the other. We share a bed at least 6 nights out of 7. I am no longer living on borrowed time.

Instead I am dealing with the every day practicalities. Laundry has to be done, it can’t be left until he has gone home. Grocery shopping is essential, no longer a case of stock up on food before he arrives and do the same again after he leaves.

There is no longer the nervous anticipation of his arrival but on the flip side there is also no longer the edgy wondering whether he will arrive at all. Instead there is the peace of knowing he will be there when I get home.

I am hot for him all the time. He makes my heart quicken. The touch of his skin sends sparks through me. I want to inhale him, to take him into my body and make him part of me. I own him sexually and there are sexual undertones to so much of what we do. Our sex and sexuality is pervasive in our lives.

The day to day practicalities of living together will take time to iron out but in the interim we are doing just fine.

Per

I told him to memorise a word from a book.

He did.

I told him to choose two rewards.

He chose:

1. Orgasm
2. Massage

I told him to take off his clothes & stand at the wall.

He did.

I told him to pick a number between 30 & 45.

He chose 40.

I set the timer for 40 minutes & told him that if he could keep his word to himself until the timer went off I would decide on a reward for him.

I had him stand spreadeagled against the wall.
I hit him with the crop.
I spanked him.
I played with his hard cock.
I hit him with the crop and played with his hard cock at the same time.
I used my wand on his cock, balls and nipples.
I teased him.
I kissed him and refused to kiss him.

I asked him if he wanted to stop.

Each time he said no. He wanted to wait for his reward.

I pointed out that he may not like his reward.

He still chose to wait.

With 45 seconds to go I took his nipples between my finger and thumb nails and I pinched.

He lasted til the buzzer.

His word was per

I kissed him. Took him to bed. Held him. Loved him.

He was a good boy & he was rewarded.

I feel like a puppy

Puppies love cuddles and walks and being rubbed and generally being loved. They are all their favourite things.

After a scene yesterday, our first for too long, I felt like that puppy. It was my favourite thing. I was giddy in that puppy way, wanting to know that he had a good time, not because it affected whether I had a good time of not but because I wanted it to be his favourite thing too. I wanted him to get to feel the way I was feeling.

His enjoyment of our sex does not influence whether I enjoy sex. I will probably die not knowing what he gets out of it, wondering how he can possibly get anything out of it but I am coming to accept the fact that he enjoys it. Accept that it is the best sex of his life. None of which actually influences that it is the best sex of my life.

But like a puppy I am made happy by him being happy.

he is happy.

The Beauty of his Love

his nails scour the skin on my back, giving all the feedback I need to feel, to know, to savour his contact with me. The feint marks create a roadmap of his desire to connect with me, more than he already is.

The fingers of his other hand seek & find the spot that makes my hips buck, my back arch, my breath catch – over and over.

His mouth sends sparks through me as he kisses the small of my back, gently nibbling my skin, again increasing the intensity of his proximity to me.

I cannot see him, cannot see that blissful look on his face or the excitement in his eyes but I can feel it as he uses himself to increase my pleasure.

I may die not know what pleasure he derives from giving me pleasure but in those moments I am enveloped in the beauty of his love for me, held safe in the knowledge that this special connection that we share ties us together in a way nothing else can.

He is my kink

I didn’t know kink before him. I lived the way I lived and it was both personally and sexually unsatisfied.

I was expected to be in charge and responsible for everything but without the benefits of having someone actually defer to me. It was a case of ‘I want you to make all the decisions but I reserve the right to ignore what you have done/contradict you at any time’ except with regards to sex. That was always on someone else’s terms and to be honest had little or nothing in it for me.

I knew things weren’t right but I didn’t know what was wrong. I didn’t know what was missing until he showed me. He showed me the joy of being dominant to someone who wants to be submissive. He told me he needs me to be dominant because he can’t be submissive to himself, similarly I can’t dominate myself. Together we work well, as long as both of us are not off form at the same time which doesn’t happen often.

When I think of kinky things I think of them in relation to him and how he is in my life. New toys are considered for how they can be used on/with him.

I desire no more than I have with him & when I do want more I want it with him.

It is because I love him

I can easily talk to friends about the nice and romantic things that my boy and I do together.  Dinner, listening to music, seeing a comedy show.  They are mainstream things that mainstream people understand.

He says he loves her.
He takes her out to dinner.
The action proves the expression of the emotion.

I cannot easily talk to friend about my expression of love for my boy in BDSM terms.  I am not overly gone on the acronym BDSM because we really only “do” the B, and even then it is only “done” by me.

How can I put into words, that my vanilla friends will understand, that it is because I love him that I tie him up. Not because I want power or control over him (both of which I already have), not because I want to hurt him (something I actively want to avoid) or prevent him from doing things, just simply because I love him and want to share this experience with him.

I tie him up so that he can no longer be shy about his body, so that he cannot inadvertently move away from my touch. I do it so that he knows that when I touch him I am doing it to the very basic parts of him. That I accept every part of him, just as he is. No clothes protecting him, no ego to hide behind.  Just me and my boy.

Some of that I could probably vanillaise and explain it as kinky sex but how to I explain that it is because I want the best from him that I bring him to the brink of orgasm over and over but each time I tell him to wait a little bit longer, to wait for me and each time he does.  That this exchange between us is the ongoing reassurance of his acceptance of our relationship.

This weekend I tied his hands above his head, attached a 30″ spreader bar to his ankles and attached him to the doorframe.  As I watched him move, blindfolded and naked as the day he was born, I was blown away by how beautiful his body was, how fortunate I am to own all of him, how thankful I am that he has given all of himself to me.  I couldn’t help but touch him, hold him, molest him, kiss him, taste him. I wanted to be attached to him as he struggled to stay upright in his bondage, so close to him that I could feel him breathe.

It is because I love him that I did not allow him to touch me, or even to see me.  It is because I love him that in that moment, as he hung naked from the doorframe I aroused and excited him but did not allow him to orgasm. It is because I love him that at the end I released him, guided him to bed, made sure he was warm and then crawled into bed beside him.  It was in that moment that he was assured, yet again, of my love for him.

Patience is a virtue

that today I do not possess. I was going to blog this but as you said, my blog should not be a means of communication for us.

I felt more connected to you in the 1 minute FaceTime call last night than I have all week. I ache for the peace of having you near me. The ability to reach out and touch you, to see your face when you tell me that you want to spend the rest of your life with me. Words on a screen can only give me limited peace.

I long to touch your head while you seek comfort at my breast, to hold you in my arms and know that you are mine, that we will settle into a new groove that is good for both of us. I want you to touch me and tell me that you are not pulling away, that there is not something more interesting than me.

But patience I will have to find. Peace I will have to wait for.

Anticipation

I can’t wait.

I can’t wait to kiss him.

I can’t wait to hold him.

I can’t wait to squeeze the soft skin of his cheek & tell him what a sweet boy he is.

I can’t wait to whisper in his ear & remind him he is mine.

I can’t wait to lock his collar in place & reconfirm my ownership of him.

I can’t wait to hear him say ‘Yes Miss’

Can you feel my heart beating faster?

Can you see my pupils dilated?

Can you hear my bated breath?

I will wait, but only 8 more hours.

When there is love & kink

Sometimes the presence of love along side kink throws up emotional issues for Miss as well as the boy. I agree that link is not a substitute for therapy but the framework of a D/s relationship provides a base of honesty & communication that allows for present & past issue resolution.

I worry that he will think less of me when the past rears it’s ugly head. Most of the time I remember that this is not a ProDomme/customer situation, that I don’t have to know all the answers. This is a loving relationship in which I am the head of the house hold, in which my decision (once it is logical, rational & well thought out) is the end of the matter.

Some of the time though I see my own faults & failings and worry that he will see them, tally them, find them intolerable. I forget the 90% of things that make him breath takingly happy, content in the knowledge that I am his Miss & he is my boy & together we can deal with everything.

It’s time to forget the 10% and get on with being happy.