Taken (care of)

There is an old adage that everyone knows; you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. You also get your house all sticky and probably it's more of an "attract a lot of flies" than a "catch them so you can get rid of them" sort of thing.

But as an analogy to my submission, it's still a pretty useful turn of phrase.

If you are nice to me, I will let you be very, very mean to me. I will love you for being mean to me, so long as you are nice to me.

Yesterday Boy tied me up. Our apartment has a large open arch between the two main rooms, in which Boy (of course) rigged a suspension-worthy hardpoint, and attachment points for a person to be spread-eagled and very exposed. This is where he tied me up, asking me to fetch rope for him, taking my clothes off, tying first my wrists so high that to make it more comfortable I would stand on tiptoes as long as I could hold it, then tying one ankle, and after a while the other.

I haven't been that small/submissive in a very, very long time. I loved how he touched me, how he took care of me. I loved that, for that night at least, he didn't feel a need to hurt me beyond the discomfort of the rope, the coolness of the air on my bare skin, the exposure and submission of my position.

At one point he sat back on the floor in front of me and looked at me, and said that my being there, naked and tied up between rooms, in the center of our apartment, made the whole place worth it. We have lived here for about two months, and there are a billion little things wrong with the place, so that every day has something of a struggle in it. But he said that to him I make it worth it, and that, of course, makes it worth it to me.

What really sticks with me about last night is how he looked at me. I am sometimes threatened or made sad by the amount of bondage porn Boy watches. Not because I mind the porn -- I watch it with him, and enjoy it. But because he enjoys it so much, he so gets off on it and he loves the pretty ladies all tied up, but I so rarely end up in similar situations to those ladies. And I wonder if there is something not-good about me, that he would rather watch a two-dimensional image of a tied up lady being teased and hurt, than have a real-live, three-dimensional me to tease and hurt and use and care for.

But last night his eyes lit up when I gasped, and it seemed like he couldn't keep his hands off of me, like he finally saw that I can be just like the pretty ladies in the movies, only real and solid and available for his and my own orgasming goodness. Yes. There was orgasming goodness. But this is about the tying up.

And about how he took me down after a while when my wrists hurt, but not just the exact moment that I said my wrists hurt, and about how he held me and stroked me and then pinned me to the bed and fucked me, and about how sweet his hands felt in my hair as he held my head so that his cock stayed completely buried in my mouth.

It was very good.