Kneeling

It's impossible for me to be with my Sir, without wanting, irresistibly, to kneel. It isn't something foreign to me, this impulse, I have felt comfort in kneeling at other times. But with him, it's risen to the level of a force, some gravity in him that pulls me downward. When we first met each other I didn't recognize or understand it, was unaware of any submissive impulses, barely aware of the word submissive, certainly not aware of its relation to myself.

So this last time, I end up in my happy place, at his feet while he sits in the chair and we talk, very quickly. It is here, kneeling, that I can put my head on his knee to be petted, here that I turn my lips up to his to be kissed, here that he takes my hair in his hands, touches my breasts softly, then roughly. Here that he holds my face and brushes his lips against mine gently, here that my silly heart, which had thought to regain some control in this relationship, thought to put him in his place as just another man to me ... falls again.

This time of reconnecting is so precious to me. When I miss him the most, its these moments I think of to comfort myself. Yet, suddenly in the midst of my content, I'm restless. Not just randomly restless, specifically in need suddenly and desperately for his touch.

I'm unable to ask, although looking back I suppose I should have. Instead, I decided to hint. I put myself across his lap, head down, arching my bottom up to him, hoping his hand will slide down and stroke my pussy. But, alas, he only began to spank me, not realizing perhaps how far past that point his chaste kissing had brought me. Somehow, I'm not really certain exactly, I ended up bent over the foot of the bed, his belt striking my thighs and ass, my body responding in shock and arousal.

It's been months since we played in this way. There was a time this would have been light play for me, but now, unused as I am to this kind of treatment, a concern began to build inside me that this might actually hurt. What if the magical something I used to have, my special relationship with pain that I was unaware even existed until a few years ago just left me? Suddenly I flew back away from myself, and realized, I'm alone, all alone, with a sadist. He wants to hurt me. I could feel my pussy flooding at these thoughts, just moments before I was snapped back into myself when he grabbed my hair and pulled me to the floor before him.

This kind of play disarms me the most. This is something I could only do with someone I love and trust completely. Being treated roughly under other circumstances frightens me too much - I've done it once and ended up with my teeth chattering so badly and my pussy so dry the poor dom had to stop the whole thing. But with my Sir, it feels so different because I want so badly to make him happy. His cock is hard for me, because of me and my suffering for him, because he can hear me whimper, see me close to tears, see how aroused I become, he's hard for me and I do my best to swallow his cock all the way down my throat. My ass is suddenly so hot, I don't even rest it against my heels, but I swallow and suck and feel the heat.

Then I'm back on the bed again and he's using the belt. I don't know how many times we alternate this way, but eventually I'm in some kind of rhythm because I just vacillate between my knees and the bed, his cock becomes larger each time I return to it, my pleasure and happiness growing because I know I'm pleasing him.

Somewhere in there I begin the change, the reason i do these things, for the moment I abandon myself in him, where I and my needs stop existing. I've forgotten about my pussy and how badly I wanted him to touch it. Now I'm his toy entirely, there to be used and abused if he desires, willing to do and be anything if it will only win me his smile. He orders me onto the bed and I go - suddenly lost as I kneel there, should I kneel, should I stand, or lie? I hover there, kneeling but up on my knees, waiting for orders. My legs tremble, my brain feels fuzzy and I think it again, I'm alone in a room with a sadist... why that phrase, why the distancing?

Three years ago if you would have told me I'd be here, I would have never believed it. Three years ago I was unhappily married, in some kind of sexual hibernation, ducking myself into hidden places to vent the painful crying that seemed to come out of nowhere. Sometimes I'm a stranger to myself, this woman I've become, this creature with her special relationship to pain, her lover a stranger, really, if you count the proportion of her life that he's been witness to.

Kneeling on the bed alone while I wait, I float in this uncertainty. Until his touch and voice bring me back to myself and to him and I'm home again in one piece, the only spot in the universe that truly feels safe.