i’ve been working my way through the “languages of love” in my last few posts – gifts, spending time, service, physical touch, and verbal touch – and building a fantasy to hold me over til my Sir gets back. (Three more days…)
Today, i’m on service, a favorite topic for many of us submissive types. i love ‘serving,’ if that means doing things that please, things that are helpful.
In my vanilla life, my job is a kind of serving – as a psychotherapist, i help people find their way. Some therapist assume a dom-ly role, conceptualizing the client’s problems in a way that lends itself to giving advice and “fixing.”
My stance tends to be that life’s a journey and we may walk together for a while. On the way, i expect my client to share her experience, and i’ll point out the things i see. And teach her some of the things i know. Whether or not they’re helpful, whether or not she uses them, is completely her call. I’m there to help, and if she wants me to lead the way, i can do that. But it’s really about serving her goals.
In my personal life, i’ve learned to set some boundaries for myself and others. You know, i have some experience with relationships in which i could never do enough to please – where what i brought to the table was never quite adequate.
That’s probably warped me out a little bit, in the way that we all get warped by life. It can keep me poised on the brink of taking my toys and going home. i own that – {laughing} – really, i think i’m kind of entitled to it!
But i do love to serve, and to please. i’ll go a long way for a “good girl.” The deep fear for me is that i’ll go a long way, and then be told that He didn’t want that anyhow. That it was a pointless trip.
The nice thing – well, one of the nice things – about BDSM is that the exchange is explicit. At least some of the time, i know what He wants. And He knows that i want to give it to Him. Whether “it” is the orange juice He likes, or cock worship.
Sometimes, it’s remarkably easy. Like (yes, here we go) – like where i left myself yesterday…
…on my knees, bent over, with my back to Him. Filled by Him – He has penetrated me in both places, with..
{it still makes me blush and squirm to say it – even to think it}
um, His fingers are in my pussy, probing, pressing against me… and His other hand, um
He has two fingers – two whole fingers – in – well, in the rear entrance –
which is usually not an entrance at all for me – and if you had told me He would be here, i might have said, “o, probably not.” But here i am, on my knees, doing my best to rock back into His fingers, moaning with pleasure and really – omigosh – really wanting more. And then…
much to my dismay, i feel Him pulling His fingers back, not from my pussy, those are still there, but from – my ass. As He does it, i feel this – emptiness – O, i want His fingers back!
“Sir, please Sir, don’t stop – o, please…”
“I thought you might have had enough,” He says, and i notice, as if from far away, that there’s laughter in His voice. He’s teasing me. i can’t believe He’s teasing me. Now.
“Sir, no, please Sir,” i’m begging. i’m actually begging Him to put His fingers in my ass. And then…
He does. But there are more fingers this time, three maybe. His fingers are not dreadfully thick, He has elegant hands, but this is clearly more. It stretches me –
– which scares me, just a little, i can feel it stretching me as He presses them – they’re in a little bit, i’m a little tense, i’m thinking it might be too much – and then –
He pulls them out again – Omigosh – no, plesase… i’m begging again, “O, no, Sir, please,” and i laugh, but it’s almost a sob – “Please come back,” cause suddenly i feel so empty.
“Come back?” He says lightly. “Whataya mean, ‘come back?’ Tell me what you want.”
And then i realize He’s going to make me say it. And i don’t know if i can.
“i want – You, Sir, i want – i want You to do what You were doing, please, Sir…”
“Like this?” He says – and His fingers slide inside me again, filling me, o, yes, omigod, yes, sliding further in this time, o, o yes – moving deeper – and then –
“Like that?” He says, as He pulls them back out.
And i think i will die, die from the emptiness, the need , the longing. “Sir!” and i’m almost indignant – “Sir, please, please, please don’t stop! Please???”
i’m trying to rub myself on His other hand, the hand that is still in my pussy, the hand that is carefully avoiding taking me over the edge.
“What do you want?” He asks again. “Tell me what you want.”
“Your fingers,” i say. “i want Your fingers” and i don’t care anymore if i’m embarrassed, i just don’t care – “i want Your fingers in my ass. Please.”
“Well, they weren’t exactly in your ass,” He says, stroking a butt cheek, slapping it lightly. “This is your ass,” He says. “Where did you want My fingers?” and i can tell He’s amused, but omigod, i’m not – i’m desparate.
“In. My. Ass. Hole,” i say. And then –
– no point in being coy i say it again, “In my asshole, please, Sir, i want your fingers in my asshole. Please,” and my body’s clenching again, shivers running through me, and all of me is focused there, yes on my asshole, longing for Him to fill me again.
And i notice, just notice, that i don’t care if it hurts, i might even want it to hurt. It might be ok if it stretches me beyond comfortable.
And then…
aisha 