Scared

I find it somewhat humorous that the button to write a post in blogger is labed "create".
Right. On to the real news.

I was tired, last night. It was the end of a long day at the end of a string of long days, and so when my partner was coming to play I put my collar on, so he would know that for tonight, he was to be the dom.
And he asked me what I wanted, and I told him I wanted to be controlled, to be owned and taken care of.
He controlled. For the first time since we've been playing, he gave me a safeword.

A note on safewords: for many people, I am sure that they are very useful things. Last night we were going by the stoplight system, wherein 'yellow' means slow down and 'red' means stop. I don't know if 'green' means keep going, or faster, or nothing at all. As far as I'm concerned, though, 'slow down, please, master' should mean slow down, and 'stop!' can mean stop. The point of this all is open and honest communication, and I sort of feel like implementing a code takes away from that. But that is probably just me.
And, I should mention, that in a different sort of scene -- a rape fantasy, for instance, it would be worthwhile to have one. In any scene were 'stop, stop!' makes sense but 'kumquat!' does not, then 'kumquat' is clearly the way to go, safetywise.
On yet another note, hum. Rape scenes. Before I understood the nature of sexual assault, the carelessness, brutality, and power that lay behind it, I used to think that was sort of a neat idea. There was a time I thought men only raped women that they wanted so desperately they couldn't live without, and to a girl like me, a girl with occasionally very low self-esteem, that seemed somewhat wonderful. Flattering. There are occasions when I feel nobody can muster enough wanting of me to condescent to a snog, let alone fuel the fires in their loins so much that they are forced to disrespect personal saftey, societal norms, moral values and the law.
Then I learned what rape really is, and it suddenly seemed alot less appealing.

So. The scene. I asked him to take control, and he took it. Gave me a safeword and buckled my hands in the wrist restraints to the collar at my throat. He tried to show me in the mirror that I was beautiful, but all I wanted to do was look away. My master, when he is my master, is lovely. Simply lovely. He looks unnatural -- his face is very gaunt, his eyes sunken, his cheekbones and clavicals sharply pronounced. His hair is long and sort of honey colored. He's beautiful.
And standing in front of him in the mirro with my wrists clasped to my throat, I felt terrible. A mess, with bad skin and an unfortunate body.
He asked me if I could see how beautiful I was, and I said no.
And kindly he turned me away from the mirror.

It felt like a very long scene. I can't remember properly, but I think it's been a while since I've been so subjucated. It revolved around me. He touched me but would not let me touch him. He whipped me when I made mistakes, hard enough that I knew I was being punished. He tied me to a chair and blindfolded me, and in the dark I realized I had no clue what would happen to me that night. I trust him. I know he would not harm me, but I didn't know how far my limits would be pushed, and I knew I wasn't going to use that safeword. I was scared. And that was wonderful.
And then, when I was tied to the chair, legs apart, he teased me. And teased me. And teased me. I can't recall how many times he brought me to the point of orgasm. I was in no state to even try and count.
And then he untied my wrists and had me touch myself. And then I felt better. The mirror can't show me that I'm beautiful, and 22 hours of the day neither does he, but when we are in scene, when his voice catches and he can't look away -- that I believe.
He told me I had no idea how hot I looked, touching myself like that.

And then we used our new toy. A ballgag, huzzah! Not very effective at actually keeping me quiet, probably because the knowledge that I had a gag led me to be less careful about controlling how loud I was. But it was fun.
Oh yes, it was alot of fun. After almost an hour of being kept at the point of orgasm, I came quickly. And then, pointing and looking, I am sure, piteous, because I couldn't make myself all that well understood with a rubber ball in my mouth, I begged him to get off himself.
And he complied.
Flipped me so I was on the bottom and rammed into me, talking.
I should mention that I love talking. I'm maybe the most verbal person I've ever met. Words are the sexiest things I can imagine, I just love them. I'm obsessed with the English Language.
I love talking.
And he talked to me. Told me that I had no choice, that I was gagged and bound and he was having his way with me and there was nothing I could do about it and I loved it.
Twice I came that night.

You can't kiss through a ball gag. My partner always kisses me once he's finished, sweetly and softly for the first time since he entered the room, ussually. That just doesn't work with an inch-and-a-half diameter rubber ball between you.

I was curled up twitching. I had never been scared, before. When he first tied me to the bed, I wasn't scared. I was never scared, I just felt this overwhelming sense of trust. This tested that, and it was good. In someways it felt more honest to be a little bit afraid. I still trusted him, I still know that he won't hurt me, but I realized suddenly that when I gave up controll I gave up all control, and that was that.
Quite a sensation.

We switched again for a few minutes at the end. Two well lubed fingers in him and my lips locked around his cock, and he'd matched me for orgasms that night.

And I just realized he looked somewhat... different. Confused or surprised, when I pointed at him so desperately once I'd first gotten off. 'You want me to get off?' he said. Well, of course! Maybe he really was planning on making the night all about me. Hmm.

A few more general notes: the slave thing hasn't happened yet. It's a tempting little idea, but not one I think that I could implement in my own, very comfortable room. It just feels all wrong -- if we ever get to a different space, perhaps then I can really take control and stop being Ms. Nice-Mistress, but until then this works out ok. Though it's been a bit since I've been Ms. Anything-At-All-Mistress, and I should definitely rectify that.
Also, my partner and I recently discussed the idea of keeping roles for a slightly longer period of time. It's an interesting question. I brought it up, and I honestly expected him to demure, to explain why it would be a bad idea and I would say yeah, I know, and we'd leave it at that. Part of our relationship has always been complete freedom. We can leave whenever we want to, and generally come back, though not always. We can go snog other people, and we do. We are not tied to eachother outside of being close friends, and anything like this, even if only instituted foro a few days, would change that. A Sub cannot leave, and a Dom should not. I don't know how restraining such a thing would be on him, and I figured he'd say no hands down. He seemed interested, though. If we decide to try it, it would take alot of negotiation before hand, because we can't simply drop it while other people are around, but we also do not want to be obvious about it, at all. It will probably express itself as just a shift in power. Once in roles, only Dom can ask Sub for favors, and Sub must comply, etc. Dom, in their turn, should do all in their power to keep Sub out of the hands of others, and to make take care of them should any harm come to them.

Dunno if it can feasibly happen, but it would be an interesting thing to try.

So. I bottomed, I subbed, I was tied down and teased. I'm glad he remembered to turn out the lights when he left, because after that I would have slept with them on rather than make any attempt at getting up again.