Until That Day

Until that day we played, I'd never had someone spank my pussy. And I hadn't really thought about it. I certainly hadn't thought about it as something good. 

It was shocking, umm, mostly in a good way. But it's pain, which is bad, but, this was in a mostly good way, and I don't think I can explain it. It DEFINITELY turned me on, though there were lots of things that did that day, so it would be impossible to identify just one. 

When I got there and you had the toys you had, I thought you'd spank me, my ass, which you did, and which I loved. 

I hadn't expected the pussy spanking, and ... I guess when you started doing that I somehow imagined you'd do it once, or twice and then go back to my ass, and you didn't. It made me feel helpless and aroused, and dominated and pain, and exposed, and oh, did I say dominated? I wanted to be open to it, it's what you wanted, and I wanted to like it, and i wanted it to stop, wanted it to keep going,  I didn't know.... didn't expect...  didn't know how to process it. And instead of being able to just take it, I tried to escape it, and no, not enough to say stop, not enough to use my safeword, 

And now, a month later (it's about a month, isn't it?), I have processed it, sort of, and I don't know how you felt about this woman, trying to escape you, but omg it was hot for me. And I loved that you came then. 

Thoughts?

(And yes, it has taken me this long to write this, to think this through this far, and I do think though my fingers often)

February Blues

Is anybody out there?

Anyone reading this?

I'm blue.

It's February.

Everyone around me is sick. I'm the world's least patient, least sympathetic nurse. I don't want to get people tea or soup or sympathy.

I don't want to go to work and find martyr people have hauled themselves in so they can pass on their germs to me.

I don't want any of it.

I'm cranky.

PMS?  Probably.

And yet, a hi from the audience would still be nice.

Blush

I bet you thought I was gone, or that he was really sick and ..

well no.

I mean... I do think he was fairly sick. But not THAT sick.

I haven't seen him in ages. Weeks. Months.

I miss him.

I want to play with him.

We exchange flirty emails. Very flirty emails.

One of the things I have realized in the past month is that his kink, well, beside the basic straight bdsm thing, is watching the embarrassment, the blush.

And there I was, thinking that I was disguising my discomfort.

No way. That's what he's there for. To see me squirm.

February

Sorry, I've been gone for ages.

And it's hard to come back here when I've been away.

I don't know where to start or what to say.

A little bit of information. A re-opening of the conversation.

He's been sick. Not very communicative.

It kind of freaked me out. Made me feel undesired.

Which led me to a bit angry and resentful.

So I decided to ask him.

I hinted at questions. I was subtle but I asked what was the matter?

He basically ignored them. He responded but... really not in depth. I don't think he got what I was asking. Either that or he thought, "Jeez, what a fucking nag, I can get that at home. THAT'S not submissive"

So, when he ignored, I retreated. Leaving room for him to chase me. Which he did not do.

So i asked more questions. Nagging more. If he hadn't thought it the first time, he almost certainly did the second time.

He did respond.

Reassured me.

Said all was well, except that he was sick. I have no idea what kind of sick btw.

Fuck he is shitty at answering questions. He dances around them. He's coy. He's keen to collect information, less keen on giving it sometimes.

I hope he gets well soon. I want to see him.

Always Leave Them Wanting More

He's kind of casual about our relationship.

What do I mean by that?

Casual about being my Dom? Casual about his commitment to me?

I think he wants to be my Dominant. I think he likes it.

He's actually.. well maybe I just really don't know what he is.

Let me back up a bit and say that I think I'm a person who is passionate about everything. And engaged with everything. I run full tilt at everything in which I am interested. Sometimes I burn out fairly quickly.

He moves slower, with way less obvious enthusiasm. Way less obvious engagement. He's less explicit about omg this is great. Or that's the way it looks to me over here in the fast lane.

If I examine what he says, he actually says this is great, that I am great, that I am lovely. He only says it once though, and fairly quietly, and doesn't expand on it, or analyse it to death.

Over in the fast lane, I'm raving about it, wondering how to improve it. Wondering if he really likes me, if I'm going to fast, being too dirty, or not dirty enough about the right things. Does he like my blog or no, does he think it tells too much, will he be horrified at the next post, the next exposure?

As I write this, I think the thing I'm feeling is that he's an introvert (who sometimes seems like an extrovert) and I'm very extroverted. He's fairly private, I'm writing this for the world to read.

He's asked me to send him an email every day, of things that I like, and to tell him what I like and why. I do that. I think of it as an order. I want it to be an order. In fact, I probably fish for orders, for direction from him. Sometimes he responds. Often he responds. Approvingly. He definitely approves.

Do I want him to boss me more? Maybe. Does that mean he will? Maybe not. I think his policy is "always leave them wanting more". And he does.

So, I think he likes me. He wants me to be his submissive. He likes that, is flattered by it. Sees potential in it. He respects me as a person, as a friend. Definitely a friend with benefits.

Does he love me? No. Does he want me to love him? I don't think so. If he does, I'm missing the memo on that. I think he might be horrified if I did.

I'd like him to be easier to read. I find him complicated and cryptic sometimes. I want him to say explicitly yes, I love this idea, let's do it, get naked, go get my belt and get on your knees.

I think that I want him easier to read because I really want his approval. So I want to know what he wants, what he likes, how to earn that approval.

Does he like me? I think he does. Does he enjoy our relationship? I think he does. Does he want it to go further? I think so. Does he want it to go faster? I have no sense of that at all. Am I okay with all of that? Yes, I think so. Bur really, more explicit about what he wants from me would be simpler.

Blues

Today I'm blue.

Various reasons. But damn I have the blues.

And I'd like my Dom to show up and beat me senseless. Okay, not senseless, but really beat my ass. I think I want him to go past spanking, and hit me with things. The paddle that I think he has, my hairbush, his belt.

Why do I think that would help the blues?

Does this make sense?

Endorphins I guess.

I don't even know if he wants this. I don't know how much of spanking is something he wants, and how much is just me begging him for it.

Does any of this make sense?

Lots of need showing here.

And what would happen after the spanking? Damn, I don't know. I'm not in charge, am I?

After the Bar

We split up after the bar, and as I walked to my car, I thought "Fuck, I was hoping we'd hook up, and why am I so stupid when it comes to offering myself in person? So tongue tied? I need to be more... obvious maybe?" 

So when I got to my car I sent you a message. Not really even hoping that you'd check or want it or follow up, just kind of as a last resort. And you sent me a message at the same time. Yes you did want it. Yes, and instructions. Go to the parking lot, where we went the other time. 

I went there, pulled in and it was deserted. I was first. I had a couple of minutes to worry or get Zen or get thrilled. I think I was mostly thrilled. Eager. It did occur to me that it would be a bad place to get stranded. It would take some explaining. 

You got there, pulled up next to me. I left my car and went to yours. I got in and we started kissing. It's like being in high school. At least for me. I'd sit beside you in the cafeteria or in class, surrounded by other people and want you. 

I undid my coat and you slid your hand in to touch my tits, and I gasped a little at how cold your fingers were, and you started to withdraw. No, please, I like it. So you stayed and played. I love you playing with my tits, my nipples. I love the little hit of pain, and is it more when it's cold fingers. 

All those girls who said their nipples aren't actually that sensitive? That's not me. Mine are. It's like there's a direct line from my nipples to my pussy. It turns me on. And all that time you spent learning to be gentle with them? ummmm, please ... it's hard to say, to ask for, but please be rough with me Sir, please pinch them like you do, more even, make me whimper with it? Thank you Sir, and yes more please. And when you smacked them, I was surprised, but I liked that too. Do you hate that I want pain? I know, you aren't supposed to hit girls but Sir, this one wants it. Please. 

You made a comment about my red bra, you'd been looking earlier. Good, I'm glad you looked. I feel like I push my tits into your hands, into your body, your mouth. Your attention maybe. I loved you taking them out of my bra, my shirt, exposing me, sucking me. Exhibitionist? Yes. Do I want to get caught? NOOO. I was kind of worried a cop would come, but... I figured we'd have warning enough to get presentable. 

You were playing with me, I undid your shirt, touched your chest, your nipples, your neck, I think you liked it. I reached down to play with your cock through your pants. Both of us moaning, wanting, encouraging. 

I asked to suck you, and you allowed it, I think you were pleased that I asked, you undid your pants, moved your seat back, and I knelt on my seat and sucked you. I love sucking cock, I'm sure I've told you that. I love the sensation, the knowledge that I'm succeeding, it gets harder, grows in my mouth, your hands in my hair, the sounds the tension, as I do it right, and you let me do it my way, or encourage, or change me, move me, show me. And then the end, where you need it, you can feel it coming, the orgasm and you grab my head and move me so I'm fucking your cock with my mouth, serving you? I like all of that. The rush of cum into my mouth, and then, what to do, how much to suck, how much to get gentle and just be a warm place for your cock? Because that's what I assume you want... And you did seem to like it. 

Please tell though, please give me blow job lessons? BlowJob101 for YOU. I'd love to give you the best blow job ever, and I think the only way to do that is by being told. Don't you? Tell me exactly what to touch, and when, the head of your cock, the shaft, your balls, and behind. Yes i do know it's cramped in the car, but... it can be something you could tell here or show another time. Please Sir? I'm assuming that I'd get a B+, for effort if nothing else, because as you said there are no bad blow jobs, but... I have no idea whether I'm an A or a D for execution, and I do not assume it's perfect, but I'd like to be. 

And while I knelt over your cock, you flipped up my skirt, pulled down my pantyhose and panties and started playing, smacking my ass, tentatively at first, and then more. And eventually you told me to pull down my pantyhose and panties so you could play more, which I did, you spanked my ass, which surprised me, with my mouth full of your cock, kinda playing with fire there Sir? You kept hitting. Did I like it? Yes. Yes, I liked it. Yes I wanted it not in the car. Yes, it hurt, some during, some by the end. Did I get enough? um. I don't know. No. Did I get too much? Um. No, not too much. Did it hurt? Yes. 

It's confusing right? There was a point... where I thought, this hurts, will I have to ask him to stop? If he... if he keeps going, at what point would i stop him? And I don't want to ever stop him, because I have begged him to do this, and . I want it, but it's pain. At some point, it's just pain, but... I really liked it. Thank you. My take away was that I really liked it. It turned me on. I would like you to do it again. More. Harder. I almost asked you if you wanted the hairbrush in my purse (thinking that i was asking you to do this and it had to hurt your hand too... and somehow it seemed wrong for me to ask you to hurt yourself, which might be dumb?) and I loved the pain and heat of it, your hands on me, running over me at the end. Feeling the heat. Did you like it? Hate it? Feel comfortable or really uncomfortable? Dirty? Dom? What? Please tell?

I felt submissive, ummm, dirty, very sexual, very "on the bottom". Very appreciative. Thank you. 

Your hand moved from my asscheeks to my pussy, tentatively, at one point scaring me that you were going to play with my asshole. And no I don't have it as a limit, and I won't but ... it's ummm I guess it's dirtier, and more invasive, and wasn't what I wanted. I was relieved. God I sound like such an insecure neurotic little girl. 

You started touching my pussy, sliding in from behind, and then my clit, I was pretty wet, and very turned on, and you rubbed and stroked and played as I sucked your cock, I wanted to stop to say yes yes yes, but i didnt

And it was awesome and I came, moaning while I sucked. JUST before you came, in case you wondered, or maybe that's what made you... but I do know that it can be less obvious when I cum. 

And then I got up and kissed you after the cum, and then laughed at me doing it again, kissing you with cum breath. 

And then we talked and ... You made some comment about finding out that I liked at least a preliminary spanking. I knew I would. 

Thank you. Damn I am glad you emailed me after the bar. 

The Bar

We went for drinks with friends. I arrived first and was messing with emails when he got there.

He was second, smiled with delight when he saw me alone, took off his coat, and slid in next to me. I was receptive, explaining about my hard day. Leaning against him. As I think back, probably I was using the tough day as a reason to touch and seek contact and comfort. I wanted to kiss him. Fuck, I can't kiss him in a that bar. It's way too public. But I wanted it.

He was receptive, asking more about my day. Encouraging me to touch. And for the next little while he proceeded to flirt and touch and stroke, eventually telling me to open my legs more to give him better access to touch my inner thighs and stroke across my pussy, through all the layers of pantyhose and panties. And hopefully with some of the action hidden from the rest of the patrons by the flippy little skirt I was wearing.

He didn't really go far, not in the restaurant, but I felt like a total slut. And more, I felt like his obedient little slut. Actually it turns me on now, writing about it.

We talked about who could see from the angles where they were. He said they probably couldn't see, and really I don't think he thought they would be bothered by it at all. I thought they could see from everywhere, and that it didn't help that I was wearing red panties. To me, his hand on me must have been a beacon. So not what I should have been doing. So not what nice girls do. That night, I wasn't a nice girl.

When our friends arrived he took his hands away. Mostly. Did they see? Maybe. Do I care? Ummm. I should care. I don't want to create gossip about him or about myself, and I don't want to hurt anyone. But I can't resist playing with him, wanting him to play with me.

I say he took his hands away. I think from that moment, his hands were mostly not under my skirt, or not as far under my skirt at least, but he continued to touch my legs, and occasionally brush my tits, you know the way guys do. And oh I freaking loved it.

The conversation was giddy and silly and loud. Everyone flirting with everyone else. Enough booze to lubricate. To make me want. Enough to make me stupid with it.

We stayed fairly late, but as the evening was coming to an end, I didn't want it to. I wanted more of him. We had hinted that it might turn into more before the meeting, but we hadn't actually planned anything. Turns out the lack of planning might be the kiss of death, as we all kind of tumbled out of the bar, doing up coats, saying goodbyes, and separating to walk to cars parked in different directions.

He looked confused as we split up, and I probably looked pleading. He looked a question at me. Were we really splitting up and going home? I muttered a response, maybe an invitation to invite. "Make me an offer?" He did.

More to come.

Relationship

I've seen him twice this week and now I'm confused.

What does he want?

It's not just sex.

It's intellect and conversation and sex.

It's not straight Dom/sub either.

I don't know what he wants and what I want probably depends on what he wants. Because, pleaser, right?

I think I started off assuming it was sex and D/s. Or D/s and sex. I think that's what I was offering, assuming that's what he wants.

It's more. Or less.

Fuck I don't know.

Status

I don't see him all the time. Sometimes it's once a week, occasionally more often, sometimes it's every three weeks. Hmmm, last time I saw him was Christmas Eve I think.

And Christmas Eve was a fluke, a coincidence.

Before that I had seen him several times in a week.

And now it's been ages.

I think I'll see him this week, mid week.

I'm looking forward to it. I hope it happens.

We email regularly.

I email him every day. I have a requirement. He emails back when he feels like it.

We don't text or talk on the phone. It doesn't seem to be something he wants.

I'm pretty sure he wants me, wants what we are doing. But I guess nothing in life is really sure, is it?

I hope he does. I hope I see him this week. I hope.

There's a dance, a balance between pursuing and being pursued. Between being flattered by it and being repelled.

I hope he's flattered.

Submitting

I don't really know what he likes.

I guess I'm in a hurry. At least more of a hurry than he is. To explore what he wants, what I want, where we click together, whether we actually do.

He's more laid back. It's funny, I always think of him as being that way. Very slow moving, very casual, probably a procrastinator. And it's possible that he's completely different. I don't really know him that well. But he certainly gives the impression of moving very slowly. Not even deliberately. He wants the world to think he doesn't care, that he's casual.

And I have assured him (and myself) that I'm not going to try to drive, not going to try to plan or organize him. I'm just going to relax and let him go as fast or as slow as he chooses.

So far, things are moving slowly. But really, it's delicious.

The anticipation is delicious.

The pleasure of it is delicious.

I'm happy I'm doing this.

Giving up control. I'm not sure I realized it. Letting him do when and how and what he wants to do.

I don't think I've ever done it quite this way.

Lying back, drifting, submitting. Offering. I'm definitely offering, and he definitely knows that.

Assuming that if he wants something from me, he knows he can ask.