BDSM, Learning to negotiate, Love, Male Lead Relationship stuff, Wonderboy

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.

BDSM, Coming out, embracing pain, Love, Sex stories, Volatile bodies, Wonderboy

Hunger For Pain

Do you like to hurt me? I asked looking for something. I wanted him to admit. I needed it to focus on his tongue and the pleasure he was trying to give me. I desperately wanted him to want it. But I didn’t believe he would. I thought it’s just a game we play within this dynamic. I believed he’d play this game with me, to get me more aroused, to toy with my stupid desires. To toy with me.

His yes was muffled by my cunt, but still audible. He never lies when we shift into our roles. He always tells the naked, unpretentious truth. It’s hotter than anything he could fabricate. My whole body answered to him as I let out an animal groan. The warmth of what he confessed went through me and pinned me to the bed.

I enjoy hurting you, he added between quick licks. I could feel my cunt swelling and opening. The orgasm was building like a tidal wave. So close.

I felt happiness beyond words, beyond sex, beyond the love we share and beyond the commitment we made when we married. He enjoys hurting me. He enjoys it. It makes him growl like a wolf, nasty, primal, violent and powerful. It’s in the core of who he is, underneath this civilized behaviour, underneath emotion. There it is. Pulsing in his veins. Hunger.

This is something in my blood. It’s a miracle, that’s what it is, that he should want to make me suffer. That he should get satisfaction and happiness out of hurting me. Because it is my secret want to be hurt. It’s written in my every cell. Suddenly I can barely believe my luck. It’s only now that it hits me no matter what I’ve done with him and without. There is a chain of pain between us, and when he gives it a tug, I answer. There is a need in me that only he can answer, and the same goes for him. He can put his hands on me and be happy about it. Finally he can make me suffer and love it. Finally he can love himself for hungering for it. He knows this through his flicking tongue on my quivering flesh. He knows now.

When I think about it now, my ears start to hum and my cunt starts pulsing. It goes into my head. We are counterparts for each other. Our blood is entwined.

My hands were tied together with rope and I’d extended them over my head to see him working his way to my mound and then the wet lips. He had left me there on the bed after securing me and gone to search the cubboards.

After saying: Now that you are completely under my control and can’t run away, I can do things to you. Things that will hurt.

When he came back he had a clothespin on both hands, the old wooden ones, and he smiled. They looked serious.

You don’t have to be afraid, he said to me consolingly. I had just admitted to being afraid. I’ll just put them on and hit you. Nothing more.

He put them on my nipples. First he had to pinch my nipples a bit. He rubbed them between his thumb and forefinger to get them erect again. When he’d attached the clothespins he licked my nipples around them. They didn’t hurt as much as I anticipated. But when he left my breasts alone, when I started to trash from his pleasuring, the air, the moving skin hurt. The pain was like a light fire burning my nipples. The air felt cooler, because he’d licked my nipples, and made the pain even more pronounced.

Say I want you to hurt me, he whispered to my wet cunt, his lips brushing against it as he spoke.

I want you to hurt me, I answered humbly.

Say I enjoy you hurting me.

I enjoy you hurting me, I obliged again tearing away the defences I’d build. There was no need for them anymore. I was hungry for the pain he was eager to give. With the pain he branded me. It was simple, I was his. There was no body without the mind, no soul without the heart, and there was no food to meet my hunger but from his hands. He would graciously give me what I deserved.

Say I deserve this, he said still like he was reading my mind. I couldn’t hear him and he had to repeat himself until he only said I deserve this, and it hit me in my gut.

I deserve this, I hastily let out a hoarse whisper.

The sentence was two-fold for me. If I was being punished, the punishment was his to give and I recognised his right to do so. But I was also deserving of his hands, of the gift of pain.

I felt a pure and simple catharsis. He had made me confess. I had finally seen what I’d always known in my blood to be true. He would take me in his hands. He would give me the gift of pain and take away all pain. He would make me disappear and burst into flames. For this he is a good man for me. He is the only one for me.