Behind the Scenes

04/04/2015 § Leave a comment

We’re in the missionary position. The traditional one. The one I assume if Adam and Eve really existed and fucked, this is how they’d do it. You pull my hands above my head and bind them to the bedpost. I’m not sure what with, but it works, and I can’t move my arms in any direction because you’ve pulled my body downwards with your weight between my legs until I’m stretched tight. I’m not sure what you used to tie because I’m too busy looking at your face expressions and your torso and your cock.

This is where I think us and Adam and Eve would diverge, because here you start to fuck me in the ass. I’ve prepared myself for this, training my ass with a buttplug slightly wider than your cock for the past week, so the pain is minimal but oh my god the pressure and the overwhelming fullness and the control and the dominance and gahh. You pull my mouth open and spit in it, then instruct me to swallow. And here my mind starts to go blank. I’m pretty sure you’re calling me a dirty little fucktoy and a slut but I can’t really hear and I think my eyes have rolled back in my head slightly, to which the tiny part of my regular brain which is still functioning (about 0.5%) is laughing about how that must look mighty unattractive. But the other 99.5% really doesn’t give a shit.

You start to fuck me harder and I dissolve.

Later, pounding me from behind, you drop your weight downward so instead of a distant hand I can feel your body’s weight, heat, presence. I know you well enough to know exactly why you’ve done this: Because of how much I love it, and because your abdominal muscles are screaming at you for a break. I feel a wave of gratitude and warmth and resist the urge to cry or tell you I love you. It’s like being drunk: BDSM, submission.

Things happen, and half an hour later I’m on my front with your fist deep in my vajay. This is odd for me because usually I’d be terrified of fisting, but currently I’m not. Do I trust you more than my ex? If so, why? Has my love of hands simply grown? Is your quiet confidence this effective? Has the amount of excellent hand based sex we’ve had contributed to this enjoyment; making me fetishise your hands, or accustoming me to the fear? This all flashes through my mind in less than a second before your hand plunges in again and my mind collapses.

Later still, I’m on my knees with my mouth round your balls and quite honestly I feel so incredibly peaceful and happy I think I could stay here forever. You wrap your hand in my hair and my submission is screaming half-baked phrases in my head such as ‘please’ ‘I’ll do anything’ ‘sir’ ‘you’ ‘yes’ ‘daddy’ ‘anything’ ‘anything’ ‘anything’. Looking up I watch your face, as far as my blurred vision can see, and your heavy eyes and slightly opened mouth provoke my Freudian id into wanting to kill myself and give birth simultaneously. I want to climb into your body and I want you to climb into mine. I want to be consumed by you and consume you, dissolve our bodies together.

I’m not crazy, it’s just intense right now.

As ever, there’s a conflict between the part of me that’s loving it and the part of me that knows how this must look to you. I feel so exposed, a large part of me wants to walk out the door and never look back. Another, equally large part, loves the vulnerability because there’s no better feeling than completely opening up and being accepted. After all, isn’t that what it’s all about? Logically I know I’m not vulnerable. I put myself here, I consented, I could stop this at any moment but I’m choosing not to. I keep telling myself these things so I don’t burst into tears.

But I’m submissive and I’m in that mode. That ‘true’ me. I’m desperate to please you and I want you to own me and I want you to love me and I feel so fucking needy. So inside, I’ve made myself vulnerable as fuck and I worry. Do you really care about me, do I look ridiculous to you, do I look weak, do I look pathetic, when my voice becomes younger and girlier (as it automatically does during submissive sex) is it silly to you. I think about these things when I’m domming a man later for work. I feel relaxed and in control, I feel good but it’s not what I truly crave deep down. I can enjoy playing like this but I wouldn’t want a full time relationship like this. As I stand over him and watch him suffer in the ways I’ve created, I think about how his face contorts with emotion and I know exactly what’s happening within him with every facial change, because it’s the internal processes I go through myself.

And in some ways he does look pathetic, and he does look silly (although he is massively into humiliation, so one of the main purposes of this scene is to make him look that way). But this opinion is coming from me, who does similar things and understands every move he makes. So how must I look to someone who’s completely Dom, who can’t relate at all?

I feel sexier and more confident in the dominant role, but being submissive is in my soul and the relationship dynamic I crave, so I must keep cracking myself open to this vulnerability.

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