Getting It In

I left you hanging there, didn’t I? It’s hard to write about all the hot stuff we’ve done when I feel like my ovaries are going to burst any second. That’s actually something the doctor warned me about, so now I’m lying on the couch and trying not to strain myself. I have 8 large follicles developing in my left ovary, so hooray for us! They’ll take them out and fertilize them on Friday, so wish us luck.

It’s funny, that though I’m hurting a bit and quite a bit more irritable and tired that usually, I’m also more horny. Figures, when you think that the hormones I inject kind of make for a super ovulation. I actually badgered Wonderboy to fuck me without foreplay so that after I’d had an orgasm or two, he still couldn’t. Finally he gave up, hugged me and said that we had just started too quickly. Situations like this always remind me of how the world has screwed us up. I would’ve never imagined that a guy would require foreplay and a sense of being loved in order to have sex when I started out this thing called sex. I thought that was something that was reserved for girls – boys just wanted to get it in.

There was also that time that I really wanted sex, but was too angry to have it. We tried to start but everything went sort of wrong when I freaked after giving him head. I just didn’t want to do it, and because I somehow couldn’t say it (because normally I do want to, even enjoy it, and I was baffled, and also just wanted to get to the sex, dammit!), I got angry and stopped everything and said that this is it, I’m done.

Wonderboy tried to figure out what was wrong and tried to cuddle me with his hard cock starting to droop, and we didn’t know where to go from there. And then he said,

I don’t really feel that the physical stuff is enough. I need to feel the love too.

I tried to explain, still pretty angrily, how I felt – what the hormones made me feel and how weird it was. How angry I was, but tried not to be or express it, because I knew I wouldn’t normally feel that way.

So you feel abnormal? Wonderboy asked emphatetically.

No, I feel normal. I just know that I wouldn’t feel this way, if it wasn’t for the hormones.

And no wonder! They are shooting me up with a doze that would work on a horse (because I’m a poor responder).

Even the leaflet on the medicine we inject said that maximum amount injecting a human is X. My dosage was more than X and also I’m being injected with another hormone to do basically the same thing at the same time. It’s perfectly understandable that I’d have side-effects. It’s just that when Wonderboy got used to the injections and treatments, he also forgot that being more relaxed about it doesn’t change anything the hormones do to me. He does remember now, and promised to go to the grocery store today, because I’m not allowed to carry anything heavy now. My left ovary are so full it could twist and burst, if I do something too strenuous. Also, it hurts just about all the time, so I’m not tempted to try anything. Walking’s enough.

After the discussion, Wonderboy started to caress me from head to toe, just sweeping his hands all over me. And it melted me. All the anger was gone. I caressed him too, much in the same way, and he said later how he felt that he was filled with my love – unlike when we started out and I was too angry.

There was sex. There has actually been so much sex during this treatment that Wonderboy’s required celibacy (for 4 days) is something we both notice. It’s been a long time since 4 days was something to remark on. I hope this is something that we’ll get to keep. But of course I start on the progesterone on Monday, and no one knows what they’ll do to me this time.

I don’t seem to get to the hot and juicy d/s games. I have too much on my mind right now. I’ll just leave these ramblings here and try again later.

Tomorrow is the big day!

A Suggestion For a Third Player

I’ve been reading a lot about polyamory and monogamish relationships – and watching the series Married and dating, sometimes with Wonderboy even. He doesn’t usually want to watch the shows I watch for fun so it was a surprise when he actually suggested we watch the show together on Christmas morning. Well, I don’t know if these two things are intertwined or not, but I can’t help but feel they are.

We are about to spend New Year’s Eve at a friend’s place, the Champagne lady’s parents house. There will probably only be the three of us, because she lives abroads nowadays and doesn’t have that many friends here. She’s had her dalliance with the Force so to speak. She’s a lot more experienced with play parties, which she has described in pretty non-alluring way, but a lot less experienced in some ways – as in d/s relationships. She’s been open with me about her inclinations and that’s why Wonderboy knows about them too. At a point in my life when I could barely accept my submissive desires just knowing that she had them too made them feel less threatening.

She’s a wonderful woman, but a bit on the reserved side. She has never even drunkedly play touched me or anything, the thing that happens with almost all of my friends. I get the feeling that she is in fact super straight and pretty keen on keeping her sexuality in the confines of a relationship. She’s not in a relationship now, though. She also keeps Wonderboy and me on a pedestal and feels our relationship is like the Holy Grail of relationships. She’s not alone in that either, my friend Kitten (earlier just K) also feels that way and has been pretty shocked when I’ve told her about Mr M and the difficult stuff we’ve have to wade through.

So, Wondeboy brought this up as a joke. We should take a whip with us when we go!

We went for a walk yesterday in the snow that was up to our knees and waddled trough it talking about it. I asked a bunch of questions, because I felt that it was not a joke and I should address it. Were we really going to play with her or even suggest a thing like that to her? Keep in mind that the Champagne Lady is my friend and is not interested in Wonderboy, nor does she seem monogamish. Just like I am not.

Wonderboy had thought the whole thing out to an extent and it really, really bothers me in retrospect. I just don’t understand what in the world would make him bring a thing like this up now when we’re headed for another IVF in a week or so. I feel cornered and hurt. I feel I can’t even begin to hold my feelings together.

But now I thought about this Wonderboy’s suggestion in the light of my own desire for the first time. I have no desire to do this thing whatsoever. It gives me no pleasure, it only feels really threatening. I want my submission to be a gift to him. It’s sacred to me. I do not want it to be handled like a cheesy scene or a game of Twister. I also see no enhancment in the fact that the Champagne Lady would be there too. I don’t like the idea.

I do not want to do it and I hate that he had to bring it up. It makes me second-guess myself and the things we share and do. Why would he assume that my friend would want to do a thing like that with him? Because essentially he would be doing things to us, it wouldn’t be between us women and it certainly couldn’t be between me and Wonderboy, that would be just rude.

It bothers me that he brought it up. It bothers me that he thinks he can suggest it and that he supposes a friend of mine would just want to do this thing with him. It bothers me great deal. Especially since we’re just trying to hold on to the shreds of our sanity here with the IVF treatments starting and with the Big News about the reasons behind it.

Incidently, this is not the only “joke” Wonderboy’s made during Christmas holidays that’s bothering me. He also tried to find something out of my bag (with my permission) and said:

Whoops, I found your condoms!

I had to ask him then, if he was afraid of me cheating him because the infertility thing wearing on me that much – a thing we just discussed I think a week or two earlier. And he said yes. I kissed him, looked him sternly in the eyes and said that I wouldn’t cheat and that I love him and only want to be with him. The same thing he did yesterday, when he saw I was in shock because of what he had suggested.

But it isn’t enough. He’s afraid I’ll cheat and that we’ll break up. I am not. But it’s not helping that he’s so scared. I suggested therapy to him, like I did last year this time, when he had to resort to mood elevators. And he said he’d think about it, just like he did last year.

I do think the situation has changed for the better. We’re at a better place for sure. But for Wonderboy to be so scared. Are these suggestions also coming from that place and how should I take them if they are? How can I express how hurt I am without insinuating that what he suggested would somehow fundamentally be bad? I cried a little when I tried to express this to him. I said that I feel trapped and overwhelmed with the infertility and IVF looming and that I just can’t handle this right now. He said that he hears me and honors my decision (which made me secretly angry too, like he was about to get something that I now stopped. C was very likely to say no anyway!) and we’ll get back to this after 10 years.

He’s plans for the Thing were pretty reasonable by the way. He sais he’d spank us a little. He’d be dressed, we’d be half dressed. (Even this made me ghrinch. How much so? I don’t want him seeing my friend half dressed!) And then we’d talk about it afterwars. How did it feel etc.

I tried to get him to understand how threatening it might feel by way of comparing to a situation where I’d be suggesting a similar thing with us and Joe. But Wonderboy just grinned and said he has never thought about it that way (!) and it might be fun. It might. But I don’t know, if I want it enought to gamble like that. I don’t know, if we should even be in a place where you can suggest things like this. But I guess it’s better they’re out in the open. It’s just… not so long ago when he hurt me more than I can say saying he wants to fuck someone else too. In the summer. He really broke my heart there, and I’m yet to recover. Maybe I’m just not cut out for monogamishness. And maybe he is?

A moment of harmony

I don’t feel much like writing nowadays. I’m trying to make the most of my life. Winter is coming, after all, and it’ll be long, dark, cold and hard. We can’t even make any plans to get away like everybody else since we have to wait for the treatments to start and see where we’ll be at the end of this year.

Things have settled down a bit from where we started at. I don’t want to go to the spesifics, but Wonderboy deemed it okay to punish me for my attitude not my behaviour and he did it too hard. I cracked. I realized later I should have safeworded out, but I didn’t realize I couldn’t take it before I was uncontrollably crying. It took us several days to get to the bottom of that with me losing some of my trust in him and him in himself as well. And although it sprouted a most wonderful and adult conversation about his coping skills (retreat, retreat in to silence!) and has made our sex life tons more active and happy, it has diminished the TPE d/s thing a little.

I feel more confident nowadays that I’ll get through whatever the treatments have in store for us, and that we’ll get through whatever will come with it working or failing. We have worked so hard and come so far. I’m really happy in my new job, and I think it makes a world of difference. I just have so much else to think about. We moved back to where I’m from and I have all my friends here. I just belong here. And I think I need to work hard. That I need to feel useful and competent on a daily basis, as I do in my job now.

I’ve also been a very good girl, or so my husband tells me, and so I’ve been working out and eating as per our Contract. Two healthy meals a day, no snacking and no unhealthy choices for breakfast or drinks either. It makes me happy. I’ve changed from coffee to different kinds of teas, and it makes my body feel more at ease and healthy. My stomach obviously couldn’t handle some of the processed grains and milk products or coffee I used to eat. Now that I’ve given those up, I’m much healthier, feel better and… Yeah. I am thinner too.

I don’t mind it so much, and sometimes it even makes me happy to see my face find a shape it used to have or my waist curve in again. But I’m not doing this to lose weight. I’m doing this because of the Contract and…

oddly enough…

this serves a double service of finding myself.

I’ve never run before. Out in the open, in the parks where there are lots of people who stare. They don’t really so much, but I used to be afraid that they would. And what would they think. I just didn’t want to be judged. I also couldn’t go into any of the much needed yoga or stretching classes because I would’ve felt so alien, so fat and such a misfit.

Now I run in the sun, watch the trees lose their leafs and change their color. I watch the dogs run and the people sit on the benches enjoying their day off or the evening sun. I’m finding out what my body is capable of. I’m finding out that I enjoy running. I enjoy to be outdoors.

Why couldn’t I for so long? What was I so afraid of?

I can also communicate my needs. I can lose myself again. I’ve astonished myself by asking for things in the heat of the moment I never thought I’d ask for and Wonderboy has also asked for things that aren’t so clearly in the big catalogue of sexual acts. We both are more honest and more daring, and it turns out we actually enjoy a wild variety of ordinary things, light touches, kisses, caresses of hair.

We have been kissing like when we met. Just kissing, caressing, fondling each other. Not going any further. I didn’t reach orgasm last time we made love, and I didn’t want to try because of the menstrual pain getting worse by the minute. Later we were kissing passionately, so juicyly, and I asked if he’d go down on me then. He thought for a moment and then caressed me and kissed me a little more.

I don’t think I feel like licking you right now. I feel more like kissing, he said.

Let’s kiss then! I said and we continued and it was wonderful and we were both happy.

And I remember thinking that I’d take him so completely losing himself on kissing me over licking me any day. It was also on of the few times he has ever said no to me. He’s trusting me more. He’s trusting us. He doesn’t feel that he always owes me the pleasure anymore. It makes me very happy he feels this way. That he can be honest and that he can find pleasure with me the way he enjoys it too.

D/s doesn’t have to be about a cold command or a hard hand. It can as well be about a gentle hand and loving words… and still be as commanding.

So much is self evident now. I’m hurting because running made my menstrual cramps go from bad to worse. Wonderboy came to ask, if I needed anything and said in a gentle and caring voice, You don’t have to go to the gym today, if you’re hurting really bad. Because it’s his decision, not mine. Because we both want it to be so.

The Story of The Contract, first part

So the story begins.

I was reading 50 shades of Grey. It was sweltering hot at the place we were staying at and we were lying on a bed under a fan. The purr of the fan weighed more than words most of the time.

Look, I said. I showed Wonderboy the contract they made in the book.

What do you think?

He laughed and said something to dismiss the subject. But I didn’t give up that easily.

You want to do something like that?

A contract?

Yeah. We used to do a lot of stuff like that. You sometimes even ruled out outfits. Once you made me take off your socks and shoes when you came home. I liked that.

But we haven’t been doing it anymore. And I know it’s been too hard with the infertility and everything. Maybe a contract would help.

Would you like that?

Would you like that?

I might. I have to think about it.

We danced around it. We came back to it on many instances. We were both obviously drawn to the idea, but neither of us had the guts to go for it, to really suggest it. We had so many uncertainties. What would it entail? How would we keep it up? Does s/he even want it?

*

We were having drinks in a trendy hotel terrace bar. The tall and colourful coctail glasses sweated as we did on the plastic couch. We could hear the sound of the waves or maybe it was just the cars passing by. We could see the sea glistening in the night.

Before I would’ve never agreed to a contract like that, I start. I couldn’t have accepted that physical part… about doing workout just because you say so.

He got more vigilant, straightened himself up.

I’m listening, he said and encouraged me to keep on going with his waving hand.

I don’t think so anymore. I mean. I want to be pretty for you. And I have already been doing the butt workout because of you. It could even help for me to keep in shape. And I don’t see it as such a power imbalance anymore.

Why? he asked.

Well, for once, I’m not an example of feminist agenda, I said and laughed. I’ve just been so tangled up with the idea that I can’t jump into this, I can’t even like it, because I’ve been granted the freedom to choose. I don’t have to follow the man’s lead. I’ve known that I can, but I’ve just felt too… threatened by it.

So, what’s changed?

Well. This is what I want. I guess I was uncertain of that for long. This is what I’ve been trying to get you to agree to for the longest time. So if this is what I want, why couldn’t I give it to myself?

He smiles.

Things are really gonna change, he says in a sinister voice, pressing his mouth to my ear.

Days later I have to make sure, I need to know, becauuse it gnaws my innards not to know.

Do you only like it because I will get thinner or do you like the control? I ask in a small voice.

I feel like I’m fat and ugly in his eyes, if he needs to change me. I need to know this to be able to go on on the contract.

Well, both, he says. But mostly the control, he adds and takes my hand as we walk.

Me too, I say.

*

We sit facing each other in a restaurant cellar. The stone walls are brusque and grey, but the table cloth is linen and every dish more delicious than the one before.

What do you want? he asks when he slices down his cheesecake in a small cup.

There are men sitting across from our table, the only other people down at the dim lit cellar, but they have their own conversation in a different language and can probably neither hear or understand us.

I want… you to tie me up. I want you to tease me more. I want you to focus on me, touch me more. Don’t just touch my places, touch me everywhere. Tie me to the ceiling and keep me standing there for your pleasure. And it doesn’t have to always lead to sex. I think we would do well to give that thought up. Just play and see.

His face lights up. He sips his white wine with his lips twisted in a smile.

That sounds good, he muses and I’m happy.

But then I begin to wonder.

What about you? What do you want?

First he doesn’t answer and I’m afraid he’ll say what he always does. I don’t know. But he doesn’t. He says:

I want to get you handcuffs.

I shriek just a little shriek of joy.

*

We start with an empty page. We write all the things I am expected to do.

45 minutes of exercise 3 times a week. 3 butt workouts a week at home with the ankle weights he’ll buy me.

No snacking with the exception of fruit. Healthy meals. I can’t buy any kind of sweets, not even diet coke, without his permission.

He will decide when we have sex and what we do… but I can always ask.

I have to ask his permission to change my hair or makeup style and at home I have to wear what he chooses for me.

I have to obey his direct orders, but he has to take my wellbeing into consideration.

And if I disobey… Well. He already spanked my once because I did something he didn’t approve of, I can’t even remember what it was. And it wasn’t fun. It hurt. It just hurt. But it felt right.

And now. Now we have a flogger! It’s purple and it’s pretty and it stings. We also have pink suede restraints for me (because why should they not be pretty as well?), false eyelashes with sparkle, different kinds of stockings… and a pink jelly dildo. He didn’t tell it to me before hand, but he plans on using it on my ass when he fucks me from behind.

But how it came to pass that we even got to talking about this?

To be continued…

Ps. Sorry for the delay. I was suffering from a stomach flu and got a fever to boost.  I’m fine now, though.

The new order

I’m back and there’s a new order in town! Grueling relationship discussion (hysterical crying and running around the house to escape the discussion) can sometimes really turn things around. I didn’t think anything good would come from the notorious and talked Fifty shades of Gray, but something did for us. We have a binding contract now… I itch to tell you all about it, but I gotta go to work!

Cliffhanger!

Not really what I was looking for

I wrote this a month ago. But I couldn’t publish it then.

I wish…

Never mind. Just read it. Then you’ll know.

Happy submissive orgasms for everyone!

It was thursday, the day I stopped taking the hormones. Well, guess how long it took for me to start dragging heavy breaths in near Wonderboy? Guess how long it took that I started to desire his touch, smell him, taste him, feel desire in my body as it came alive just because I was close to him?

Two days.

I can’t even begin to explain (but I still will!) how it feels to be out of the deathly grip of estrogen tampering. I feel so much alive. I’d forgotten how it feels to be sensual. Well, almost, because if I really had, I wouldn’t have been depressed about being deprived of it. But you know, sensuality is so much more than the word sounds like. With the hormones I felt that my senses were dulled or even nulled totally. Kissing didn’t really give me pleasure at all. Neither did smelling Wonderboy or giving him pleasure or gentle touch on me. Or playing with power dynamics.

We went at it first on saturday, because friday Wonderboy was too tired. Or teasing me, because he’s such a tease and he hasn’t been able to express it, because my sex drive has been nullified. It was incredible just to kiss him. I felt so much more. I had forgotten, how it felt to become alive all around while kissing, just kissing him!

There was a moment where we had to pause. I confessed that I felt a little scared and he held me – and then we kept going. There was also a moment in which I was on top of him and it just didn’t feel that good. Maybe because I was scared, maybe because of other things. So I said that I didn’t feel that good and we stopped for a minute. This is a phenomenal accomplishment of me. Communicating about negative feelings and things that don’t work in a sexual situation. And I did it even after the long dry spell!

He started to lick me, because honestly, that’s been the only thing working for me with the estrogel hell. Well, it didn’t work no mo’. For a while I endured (yeah, really) and then I asked him to come up and cuddle with me a bit. And after we talked about it, and I started to feel less afraid, we kept going and it was wonderful.

I writhed on top of him out of my mind and as I fell into the black oblivion, drooling all over him, convulsing, it flashed in my mind. This is the way it has been before. It was just so far away from what I’d felt with the hormones. And after the orgasm on his cock, on him, with my drooling manic act, I truly realized why Wonderboy had been ambivalent about my orgasms and even suggested that I wasn’t really having any. The difference was so phenomenal, how could he not notice. How could he not feel something was missing, when I was missing!

And today… He fucked me, which still feels kind of violent, because of the things the hormones did to my physics. But then he stopped, when he saw that I was missing something and asked, if he’d go down on me. And my answer was immediate.

No, but could you dominate me a bit.

I had asked him to order me around when we were getting warmed up, but he had confessed that he felt scared to do it out of the cold like that, when I’d been so dull to it for so long. He did order me around a bit, though, and it made me happy. And after I asked for more…

He spit on my face. He slapped my face, over and over again. He suffocated me a bit. Hit my tits. Held my face by the jaw, the way I like – like I’m a dog of his and he’s teaching me who’s the boss. He told me he likes to hurt me. And he fucked me so hard it hurt.

When all this sunk in. When I felt it, the sweet oblivion building up from inside me, swallowing me, tears welled in my eyes, because of the catharsis, of the love, of being owned and hurt like that. But I could feel his boner getting a bit droopier inside me. He lowered himself to kiss me and asked, are you getting scared?

I was so happy he asked.

No, I’m just scared enough, I answered. I like it when you hurt me, I added in a voice he could barely hear.

It all ended in a mutual orgasm and sweaty bodies. But somehow I know we could’ve handled any other outcome too.

Now Wonderboy’s in the other room playing by himself, as I did earlier today too. He came up to me to tell me and to get an empathetic answer and reassurence I wouldn’t blow up about it later on. I hugged him and told him it would be wonderful, if he’d play a little and that I’m here for reassurence and sexual exploit, if he needs any.

I think I just want reassurence, he said.

Then he hugged me and happily closed himself in the other room.

It’s just so incredible. This in exhange for what I had less than a week ago. No wonder I felt my life was empty. This makes me think really hard on the fact that I was on hormonal birth control for over 10 years, which is not entirely unlike what I was on now. I just wonder, if I’d discovered my sexual submissiveness earlier without any hormones what so ever…

Butt biting and some convincing regarding (non)sexual activities in (non)sexual situations

We were just lying around watching some cartoons from the computer yesterday, when I suddenly asked Wonderboy to bite my ass. This, like the finger in the butt thing, seems also very mundane – for kinksters that is. I’m almost surprised I’d never asked for it before. But then again I’m not surprised, because it is doubly difficult for a woman to ask for sexual things, when those things aren’t what’s perceived as belonging to our script of a normal sex act. And Wonderboy’s reaction kind of reflected that.

Wonderboy was caressing my back, my waist and my butt as I was lying in front of him facing the computer and he was leaning on the wall behind me. When I felt his hands mold my butt quite sharply, I suddenly knew that I wanted him to bite me.

Bite me, I asked him. He bit my ass through the fabric and I felt a tasty pressure building in my body.

Bite me again, I said and he did, but then he stopped, laughing and we continued to watch the cartoon.

After the cartoon had finished I rolled over cheerfully and asked, if he’d bite my butt a little more. There was this undercurrent of me not orgasming, when we had sex earlier, which made me quite frisky and also made me feel quite entitled to some fun only for me. I usually don’t make the suggestions here, as you know, so it was pretty unusual, and maybe that scared Wonderboy off.

Because his answer was quite frankly pretty shocking. It was a very reluctant I don’t know, and he kept on saying it, laughing and shaking his head, when I asked again. I had to bug him about it to the point, where I felt completely rejected and ashamed of what I wanted, and he felt cornered to do it. I did say to him, that if he felt uncomfortable with it, I didn’t want him to do it.

It could just be nice, just try it a little, I said.

It just seems so odd, Wonderboy said.

What’s odd about it? You lick my pussy – and I lick your butt! You bite my neck and, well, you bite me everywhere else. Why would this be so odd?

He couldn’t really answer the last one. My persistence also had an impact on him. He realized this was something I really wanted, so once again he flipped me over and bit my butt. After some bites I lowered my sweats so he could get his teeth on my skin. And he bit me. He bit me real hard, then he bit it gently and then he teased me with his teeth only and then he used his tongue and lips and then he bit me again real hard… I raised my butt from the mattress and howled out of pleasure. It was so intense. He quickly got the hang of it, and soon, real soon, I felt something wet and warm make it’s way from my pussy to the mattress. I felt the overpowering but weirdly dry pulsating of an orgasm that’s brought about without touching my lady parts.

I laughed and, really, just shoved my face into the mattress. I felt exposed, but happy, too. It was just so weird to have an orgasm just because he bit my butt. I felt super self conscious, especially since he’d given me such a hard time before he admitted to do it in the first place.

I expressed this all to him soon enough. I also said it had felt bad that he’d first declined to do it, and that that had made me feel ashamed of what I wanted. He hugged me and assured me that was not his intention and that he had just been a little thrown, because it felt so weird and unrelated to sex, for him. If I had an euro every time that’s the case with something I enjoy sexually… I’d have some money, that’s for sure.

Since the biting ended so well last night, and since we knew we had a fate to fill tonight, I knew exactly what I wanted today. It was like I was a different person. I laid it all out, everything I needed for it to work for me not that I’m on these damnable pills that make my vagina dry and unreceptive. But hey, just gives me an excuse to practice communicating and recognising what I need!

Today, I said cheerfully, I’m going to want you to lick me. And bite my butt. And I want to lick you, I took a pause. Wow, you have it all worked out, don’t you, he laughed a little flabberghasted. I really never do this, but I kept going, because why stop there? Aaand then I want you to be rough to me, strangle me and push my head, especially. I think that’s it.

We both laughed and then we started, just like I’d said. The biting was wonderful, although not as intoxicating as yesterday. It hurt a lot more.Ans you know what that sadist bastard did after he’d ravaged my ass cheeks with his sharp teeth? He hit me! Yeah, he spanked me like there was no tomorrow… Well, more like spanked me moderately a couple of times. But do you know what that feels like after the skin’s been trough some serious munching? OUCH. And at the same time… Yeah baby.

He licked me to an orgasm and hurt my nipples all the while working my pussy with his tongue. I was pretty dry and the intercourse (sorry for that word) was not amazingly passionate, although I was quite happy with it, but I could see he wasn’t so into it. But we finally added enough lube and he got his rocks off fucking me from behind. After which we both stumbled on the bed breathless and happy, because I’d already come twice and was kind of extatic at that point.

I’m lying on the couch writing this, but when I change my position, even a little bit, I can feel the bitemarks aching. I tried to sneak a peak in the mirror, but there are no real marks I can see. Yet, anyway. But for me there are.

Here

(I’m on a roll here! Must be the sun.)

When I met the women, who are also suffering from infertility, the subject of sex came up. Everyone noted, how they hated doing it, didn’t feel like it, how their husbands or boyfriends had commented, how they’d like their spouses back. And while I nodded and agreed, because honestly, it hasn’t really been a piece of cake for us either, I realized something. When one of the women said that her husband had thrown in the towel, when she just lay there and said do something, I recogniced the situation. But with us it ended up in negotiation. We established that we’d need to fuck – he’d need to come that is – and that I was perhaps not in the best place to play. So, we deciced to make that into the play.

Why won’t you just rape me? Just use me.

This is exactly what I did this Thursday too. When Wonderboy put his cock in me, it just hurt. I couldn’t make the pain into anything, I couldn’t use it to feel used or his slave. It was just too pure, the discomfort. He wasn’t actually hurting me, but my insides were so different, dry and unreceptive, that I didn’t enjoy at all.

He stopped after a while, after flipping me over and fucking me from behind, which didn’t help either.

Something’s not right. This doesn’t feel right somehow, he said.

I cuddled with him and it took a little while for me to be able to just say the words. But I did.

I wanted to be up for it, I really did. I just didn’t. It just felt uncomfortable, and it hurt a bit. There were nice bits too. Just. Not as much as normally. I think it’s the hormones. 

I think that maybe you should be more rough. Hurt me more. I think that would help, since I can’t feel that much down there right now.

Wonderboy looked serious. He didn’t say anything, but I could see he was processing. Maybe he didn’t want to hurt me today? Maybe he didn’t want to be rough with me being so fragile all of a sudden.

But you don’t have to. I just might help, I kept mumbling, when he seemed to make up his own.

Okay. Why don’t you go on down and lick me a little, he asked, but it wasn’t a question.

I did and I don’t know. Something happened when I was down there. I…

Does it happen to you that sometimes, when you’re obeying your master’s or top’s orders you just go limp? Like, I was still there, in my mind I was questioning what was happening. I had a thousand analyzes and a thousand hypothesisis about it even while feeling it. But. My head just lulled. My hand just stopped moving. Wonderboy took me by the scruff of the neck and held my head, pushed it against his cock. My eyes fluttered, it was almost impossible to keep them open. I did actively keep my mouth open for his cock, not to hurt it, but it seemed like all other control over my body had disappeared.

He pushed my head deep down and kept it there, kept me by the hair, so strong he was. And then I’d choke and cough slime over him and on the mattress and my head would fall down on the mattress and he’d let me breath in a little, cough a little slime out and then pick me back up and push me back in. I could feel his cock growing, his sense of owning me, totally, my vulnerable state penetrating him with responsibility and opportunity to do as he will. I would start gagging, but not move, not breath, not make a sound. Just gag and gag until he’d let my head go, let me cough and throw up the precum and saliva that had clogged my throat.

It was… It was perfect.

This might sound weird, but I was so let alone. I was let to have my own experience, my private fantasy experience. I’ve never had that. Not together. Not like this. There was nothing I was actually able to do for him. I was in no way trying or even able to take him into consideration. I was just pure need. I wanted for him to suffocate me with his cock. When I’d gagged many times, he did what any considerate lover would do. He wouldn’t push my head so deep anymore. He’d let me breath more. But I didn’t want to breath. I didn’ want to be treated nicely, gently. I wanted to be suffocated, used, completely at his mercy, at the mercy of his hands and his perceptiveness. I pushed my face down a little, of my own will, and he’d steel up, he’d change with me, become my owner and my master. Because I was so far gone. I couldn’t control my body, hold me head high or move my hands. But I was his fucktoy. I was all he needed. And he was all I needed.

He soon flipped me over, but it was harded than usual, because I didn’t help. My body was at his mercy and he had to work to get it flip over nicely, the way he wanted. He fucked me, then, and told things to me and held my head. He’d hold my hands by the wrists so tight it hurt and he’d fuck me so hard it hurt. He wouldn’t let me… not even a little. He was there.

Don’t whine.

Don’t you whine, whore.

And I was so out of my mind. I faught him a little, seriously, I tried, I really tried. I never do. And I couldn’t get out from under him. He just looked at me, spit on my face.

You’re nothing. I’m just gonna use you. I can do anything I want to you. You’re mine.

I answered some things, I think. And then I came. And then he fucked me harder. And then he slapped me and hurt me and twisted me by the hair. And he came so hard and I came with him, again.

After it was over, I whimpered. He pulled me against him and I just whimpered and shivered, kept gasping for air. It wouldn’t die down. I tried to caress his back a little, look up to him and smile to tell him what I was feeling. But he knew. I could hear his gentle and loving aaaaw baby, when I trembled again and let out a whine. He finally pulled me up to him, put my head on a pillow next to his and hugged me. And then he said, I’m just going to go to sleep.

And I said, won’t you brush your teeth first? but you almost couldn’t hear the words, they came from a different mouth, hoarse and carried by the wind.

I’m too tired for that, he said.

A sudden fear grabbed my heart. Was he falling asleep already, leaving me alone like this?

I’m not ready yet, I said and he hugged my tighter to show me he was there. He held me until I felt I could move, and then I rose to my feet, brushed my teeth… and spent the next 4 hours trying to sleep, but being too… something to do so.

I thought about this today, when I thought about how the other ladies talked about sex. And I realized, how hard it would be, if there was nothing new to discover. No catharsis to experience. No negotiation skills long ago learned and honed. Because there was a pause here, one that would’ve ended differently before. Something’s not right. But I could tell him what I needed this time. I could ask for it, but not expect it. I could say it without blaming him or taking blame myself that there needed to be a pause. And he could hear it and do it his way. Mold it into what he wanted to do.

They don’t have that. They only have the infertility, the seriousness, the treatments and the calender. The have no play in which to fall.

My therapist asked me: Where do you get your power?

And I think. Here.

Happiness and feeling equal and not ashamed of what you want can do this to people

Being really sick has been eye opening as hell. In a good way. First Wonderboy had a really bad influenza for a whole week and stayed at home because of that. Then I got the same damn thing and I’m still in recovery.

With Wonderboy home we got time to mend our relationship. We’d spent the weeks leading to the sickness discussing our infertility and other personal issues in depth. It had been really important to me, but Wonderboy thought it was just wallowing.

You could probably see that I was pretty frustrated with our relationship and it culminated in me complaining about how Wonderboy takes part in housework? I believe that this is because of my therapy. I’ve begun to see, how I step over myself almost instinctively, which is stupid, because then the people I do stuff for don’t even realize I’m doing stuff for them.

I have a small but significant example from yesterday. Wonderboy had ordered us pizzas. This happens like once every three months. We were lying on the bed with his laptop ready to bust some myths (you know what show I’m talking about) and pizza boxes on our laps. Suddenly Wonderboy realized he wanted to add this chili ketchup on his (also seen in the Big Bang theory episodes!). Since he was holding the laptop he just assumed that when he’d say he wanted it, I’d jump up and get it. These kind of situations just open my eyes so much, because now I have no trouble drawing the line. I didn’t want the kethcup. There was really no reason that I should get it. Except the fact that I’ve been completely and utterly too nice my entire life and done things like that, because I’ve put other people’s situations, emotions and whatnot before my own. I didn’t have that trouble now!

Great idea, I said.

He gestured to the laptop in his lap.

Why don’t you get it? he said.

No! I laughed out. It was so clear. There was no doubt in my mind or my voice. It’s such a small but important thing. Why would I compromise my comfortability to get him something while he did nothing? It boggles the mind that I used to do this. What is also important, this being a d/s blog and partnership in some respects, is that I would totally do this, if it was a d/s thang. But it’s not as evidenced by his behaviour. I feel this attitude of his – and mine of course, I am also to blame for carrying the weight – impaires our d/s dynamic. What effectively changes, when he orders me, if I’d do it anyway?

I’ve actually been using this in a way to lure him to order me around. When he would ask me to give him the milk from the fridge, I’d just say no. He would ask nicely again and I would still say no. Then I’d add smiling, There’s one way you haven’t tried yet. He’d get it and command me to get the milk, smiling, and we’d both be a little happier for it. The small things. They just make the umph.

This can’t happen in the setting we’re set out for ourselves. For his dominance to be meaningful in our relationship – because I’m not trying to say that people can’t do these things differently – we need to be equal and feel equally responsible and cared for.

It all comes back to our sex life that has been through a shredder recently. This inequality and my eyes opening about it has had some serious consequences on our sex life. How could it not, when everything we love has so much to do with power play? I even uttered the words I thought I’d never hear from my cock loving lips: I don’t want to give you blowjobs for a while. Wonderboy tried to make fun of what I said by saying: Okay. So you will never, ever again give me a blowjob. Get used to it, he added mimicing my stern voice.

No, I just don’t want to give them right now.

And then we discussed what had happened, when I’d asked him to lick me and he didn’t. I said I felt that there was no way for me to communicate my needs, because while we were having sex, he just wouldn’t oblige because of the d/s. And when I brought the things I wanted and needed up later on, he would chastise me for not asking for them while we were sexy. Now I had the opportunity to show him, how I actually did ask for things I needed, but he wouldn’t oblige. And how that had actively harmed our sex life in the past, because I’d just given up on trying to get what I needed, if he wasn’t magically doing it right all along.

Then I politely asked him to think of ways I could communicate that I really mean what I say and really need those things, because there wasn’t one in my opinnion. This lead to him realizing the same thing and seeing my situation for the first time as it is. It’s not just my fault, it’s a problem with communication. So, effectively, also his problem. He suggested that I’d try the way of appealing to him.

Maybe if you’d say “if I’m good enough, will you do this thing for me? I am a really good girl, aren’t I?”

So, by incorporating it to our play, I could tell him that I really wanted something. This seemed like a good idea. Instinctively I used it yesterday, a couple weeks after the conversation.

He had lifted me on top of him and demanded that I grind myself against him in just the right way. He enjoys playing with my tits and especially licking and sucking on my nipples while we fuck with me on the top. I can’t actually feel much in the way of his tongue’s magic touch in the heat of the moment, and yesterday was the first time ever, I could utter the words: Bite them. Please? Pretty please. I could see him hesitate for a nanosecond before I added the very girly and innocent please. That was just what had happened before. How his brain works. He almost didn’t, because he’s in charge. But then when he did, he bit me like he wanted to. Viciously. I came instantly. It was ridicilous really, but also pretty nice to prove the point of d/s being a two way street. He could see straight away how hearing me affected me.

Sometimes even a submissive knows exactly what they want and it can be imperative to fulfill those needs. I am not a machine and even though I enjoy the submissive role thoroughly, there’s also the very real, corporeal (heh) responses and needs that just can’t be walked over.

So, anyway. Baby steps maybe, but things are improving how ever slightly or slowly. Wonderboy’s been washing the laundry like there’s no tomorrow and doing chores he never used to. (And I never realized!) He’s also begun to talk about his anxieties in a lot more open way, and so have I!

Wonderboy just called to let me know that he’s heading back home from work. He’s still sick. Funnily enough this is almost good news. We get a little vacation with us both home sick. There’s been a lot more sex now that he’s home all the time. A lot more honest talk about wanting it too. And I? Well, my engine’s been running like crazy and I’ve been having orgasms alone and with him many a time every day. I just don’t feel guilty about it anymore. As I don’t feel guilty about not fantasizing about him, if he’s going down on me or while masturbating.I don’t feel guilty for wanting him to do things for me that might be uncomfortable for him or that he might actually not enjoy doing. I’m not worried about that anymore.

This, my new un-worrisome attitude, realized in me having three or was it four orgasms last night while we fucked. One was for him biting my nipples while I was riding him. One was from him dominating me with his eyes and overpowering me with his hand in my hair, hard, unforgivable. I just felt hot waves and shivers run through my scalp, back and ass, when I fell and fell in to the submission, in his rough hands. He spanked my ass and unlike recently I was able to fully take the hits, enjoy the pain that went through me like a wave of electricity. I made a small whining noise that wouldn’t stop. I was his little pet, waiting for it, not wanting it, craving for it. One, I think, was from him fucking me really fucking hard and explaining how he really didn’t give a fuck if I enjoyed or not. His eyes. His eyes locked on mine. His lips. Parted so enticingly. My submission was so overwhelming that after the sex was over and we were done, laughing and hugging and tangling on the bed, he took me by my hair, pushed me against his chest and shook me from my hair. I came once more.

Happiness and feeling equal and not ashamed of what you want and enjoy can do that to people.

Also. I have found Rocco Siffredi. ❤ This guy moans and boy do I love the way he dominates those chics. I just wish the chics could be a little less noisy.