Something Like Decency

The second half of NE’s letter detailing her thoughts on our (now not-so) recent scene. You read the first part here.

Last night I left welts on her ass for only the second or third time in our long relationship. Despite the fact that we had not had a chance to play in months, she handled herself…very well.

***

I was on my knees. My legs were spread slightly. He was talking to me, and rubbing my nipples. I usually pull away when someone starts touching my breasts. I knew that I couldn’t so I didn’t. He was rubbing one nipple and pinching it, but not for my enjoyment; he was getting it ready to put on my next piece of jewelry. He clipped it on one nipple and it hurt. Not hurt like pain but hurt like pleasure. Then he started on the next one. It was like a ritual. I like rituals. I was descending. I was cascading down the staircase. He was done. He had me stand and put on the collar, all the while gently tugging on the chain in between the clips on my nipples. He instructed me to kneel again, legs slightly wider this time. He opened up the fruit salad. My descent stopped. I didn’t retreat but it stopped. Why? Food? What the fuck were we going to do with fruit? He instructs me to feed him some; he’s still got the chain gently in his hand. So I feed him a piece. He stops me. Quickly. But not by pulling on the chain. There was no pleasure here. Also there was no punishment. It was instruction. He grabbed my arm extremely firmly. He says, you need to do it slowly, bring it to me slowly. Really concentrate on it, NE. My descent became a tumble…I was at the bottom. His level of intense concentration on my actions was so high: the position of my hand, the speed, my focus on watching it travel from the bowl to my hand to his mouth; he was watching and evaluating every move. He was making sure that every fiber of my body and mind was concentrating on it. I could feel the intense heat rise in me instanteously. His impression of me, I read later, is that my whole body was shaking. I don’t really remember that. I remember the feeling inside of me; the idea that anyone can concentrate on anything that hard. There was nothing left but him, and his desire for me; things that I need to do, how I need to feel. At that moment, when ever that moment happens in a scene, and it always does, I realize how he is a true dominant, in the most elegant yet basest sense of the role. He is incredibly intelligent and he holds nothing back of that nature. He understands the desperate needs of his submissive. He makes it perfectly clear and he always uses a different vehicle. The force of these feelings coming down on me stripped me bare and I was high.

I have a lot to learn.

I fight certain feelings in every scene that we have…and I walk away from each with a better understanding of myself.

In this scene I fought my own desires and the difference between them and his. It was certainly the strangest battle I have ever fought.

I have given a part of myself away. For a long time I held something back, something like ‘decency’. Another way to describe it would be that I would do anything that he wanted, but would I really?

That is a hard question for a submissive to ask. It’s hard because you have to be straight with yourself. We battled this for years with each other, and I with myself. I am past that now. I would do it, whatever it is. I crossed that line a few years ago.

So now I fight a new battle. I have to restrict my desires to his desires. I am free-willed by nature and I like what I like.

I had fantasized about being dressed up in this way so many times that, without my control, my mind wandered to these fantasies. Would he…Ok, I am not ready to write that stuff down, but would he?

He did not. I am glad.

But I was left dealing with what was happening to me and putting myself in line with that rather than what my head was thinking of.

Did it make it hard to stay down? No. I was gone.

Did it interfere? No. I was tied to a bed, my arms to the posts with leather hand cuffs. If I started to feel that way, I pulled on them. I did this for two reasons: to keep myself in the moment and to fucking feel the restraints. I love having my wrists restrained. It goes back to the whole jewelry thing I think, I love this erotic battle of fantasy in my head and fantasy of what was actually happening to me. It was delicious. I died a few times on that bed and was resurrected each time.

What do I want in the future?

I want to have more demanded of me. I want my concentration level that high for a longer period of time. I want to be held accountable. I want him to test me.

This is a strange desire for a submissive, I think. You run the risk of disappointing him. You also run the risk of being punished; but isn’t that what you really want once and a while. So I leave it to him, as it always is. He knows what I need and how far I can go. He is very careful not to drown me, not to break me. I go so far down now that he could with very little effort, I think. So I don’t question and I won’t. Never.

He is the dominant and I am the submissive.

NE