5 Aug

Discerning Dom wrote another wonderful post, this one on practices that maintain the D/s dynamic when other things – like regular life – get in the way.

i love his blog because he writes either very erotic pieces that turn me on, or very thought provoking pieces.   These also  turn me on because he often seems to have read my mind.  There are few thing more seductive than feeling understood.   

Feeling understood has an element of  being exposed, and that’s arousing too.  A theme that runs through the lifestyle is “being seen,” an implied nakedness of both body and mind that’s intimate and intense.  Ultimately, it may be what we submissive people most crave – to be exposed and accepted, right?

So Discenrning Dom’s post got me thinking about how D/s relationships take the shame out of so many aspects of self.   He says:

“Submissive girls need maintenance. You can’t just park them in a corner and expect them to be in full working order whenever you decide you need them again. A submissive girl, like any girl but more so, needs constant encouragement and reassurance. She is prey to doubts and loss of confidence. Does he like me enough? If I haven’t heard from him, does that mean he’s not thinking of me?” 

and suddenly i don’t feel ashamed of all the times i feel that way.  Magical. 

When i was involved with Mike Moore, at the very beginning, he’d call me at least half a dozen times every day at work.  We rarely talked during the  work day; he’d leave messages on my voice mail.  Sometimes he told me how beautiful he thought i was.  Or what pleasures we’d be enjoying after i got off work.  Often, he sang to me:  “I love yoooou, Ba-a-by, and if it’s quite all right, I need you, Baby…” 

He couldn’t sing.  i knew it was insane.  And i loved it.  i began to crave it – if I left my office for a meeting, i couldn’t wait to get back and check my voice mail.   It was intoxicating, swimming in a sea of approval and attention.   With the multitude of orgasms he gave me on top of that – omigod,  just hearing his voice made me wet. 

Sigh.  Well, that was a long time ago, and of course that level of attention doesn’t last.  If you’ve read my previous post on Mike, Memories and Orgasms , you know that he died several years ago.  i’d quit being involved with him before that, and it was like ripping a piece of myself off to give him up.  Of course, i would have lost pieces of myself if i’d stayed too.

i remind myself sometimes that abusive relationships often start with that intense level of attention.  She feels like he’s interested in, cares about, every aspect of her.  “He even wants me to tell him what I’m wearing every morning,” she may tell me.   “He wants to spend all his time with me.”  “He thinks about me all the time.” 

Bathed in the limelight of his approval,  she’s unprepared for it to suddenly flip to disapproval.  And rage.  And that’s where the path separates from BDSM, right?  The consensual part, the negotiations, the clear agreement about how things will be, is missing. 

It makes me wonder sometimes if men and women in abusive relationships would benefit from learning about the lifestyle.   I wonder if they’re really just Doms and subs without a clue on how to express themselves and their sexuality in a safe and sane way.

And maybe not.  But it’s something I think about, the similarities and differences between BDSM and abusive relationship.  Sometimes,  it starts to feel too complex and convoluted.  i don’t always want to analyze it to death.  Then i re-anchor myself with a memory or  a fantasy.  Like this one:

i’m lying on the bed, on my back,  just a sheet covering me from the waist down.  Sir D is beside me, resting too.   Only His right hand touches me, it reaches across His own body and grasps my right nipple between the thumb and forefinger.  Almost idly, He toys with my nipple.  Pinching.  Pulling.  Twisting a little.

Mmmpf.  O.

There is a direct line from my nipple to my pussy.  As He continues tugging, my pussy clenches.  i am already wet, now my hips begin to move.  i barely notice, i’m focused on the nipple that he’s continuing to tweak.   My pussy throbs.

Without thought, my right hand moves toward the space between my legs.  He notices, His left hand grasps my forearm.  Without a word, He stops my progress, presses my arm, palm down, on the bed as if to say, “Stay.”  So i do, with a mental sigh. 

My nipple is still in His grasp.  My hips still moving.   i’m acutely aware of my hand resting on the bed, the hand not touching myself.

“Your nipples are really sensitive,” He says.  He sounds a little surprised.

“Mmmm.  Yes.  They are,” i say.  Growing hotter, doing little hip circles, lying there on my back, while He toys with me.  Not moving my hand any closer to my increasingly wet pussy.  All my senses focused on the moment. Waiting.

i guess i would have laid there forever if He wanted.  It makes me shiver now, knowing that i would have.  In that moment, i was more connected to sensation than thought, more connected to His will than to my own.   Utterly  submissive. 

Mmmmm.   Just thinking about it makes me want to purr. 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: