It's early in the morning. I tried to do some academic reading but my heart and concentration weren't in it and I wandered about kinky blogs and the like for a while. My head was all 'dolly'; not at all 'girl', so in the end I picked up the leads and the dogs and I headed out for a walk. It's a brisk, dull morning here but the wind has died down and it's very quiet; hardly any people out and about. A woman engaged me in conversation for a few minutes and three men and I passed one another. They all said "good morning" and were perfectly harmless but women here are a big on edge after a fatal kidnapping recently. These sorts of incidents shouldn't allow women to feel afraid, but for a while, until the memory fades, they do. We are vulnerable and that's all there is to that.
A couple of days ago, my husband engaged me in very gentle sex; lots of caressing and rubbing, hair brushing; all very nice. Yet, I must confess my heart wasn't in it. I wanted to be handled; handled roughly actually. I didn't complain but he knows me well enough to know when something is wrong and for a few minutes he left the room. I was feeling a bit sorry for myself; restless; needing something more.
He returned to the bedroom and when he did he changed direction one hundred and eighty degrees. He was firm; demanding; even rough. He reached for his cane. Well, it isn't really a cane. It's a piece of dried vine that is thick, not entirely straight. It hurts a lot; even a medium tap stings. I was too surprised to do, or say, anything about it. He manhandled me, pulling me over the bed and he demanded that I stay bent over. He struck my bottom several times. I knew my son wasn't too far away and I tried not to squeal but that cane (for want of a better word) won't allow silence and I squawked out my protest.
"Pout it right out at me," he insisted. "I want to see your holes."
And, rather intimidated by his intense voice and the choice of words, together with the fact that he was beating my bottom, I did exactly as he said and stayed in precisely the position he had put me.
When he'd had enough of that, he pulled me by the hair over to the door frame that leads into the walk-in cupboard and he smacked my ass with his hand and told me to put my hands on my head and my nose to the wood and to stay there.
"Don't you dare move!"
I didn't.
He pushed and pulled at me in various ways, in both mind and body, until I was a little teary and eventually he said he was allowing me a few minutes alone and he left.
I had a little cry. But, it soon dawned on me that the assault on my sensibilities was extremely pleasing. I liked it.
Since then, there have been other encounters. Yesterday morning, I had just got into the shower when he walked in and said to "Get out. I want to use you." I got out and dried myself and when I walked into the bedroom he simply positioned me, entered me and had his way with me.
I liked that too.
He can see that I am happier.
Last night, I told him that I'd received an email from a friend to attend a charity event with her next Wednesday evening.
"Do you want to ask permission?" he said.
We looked at one another, and with a frisson between us, because I don't normally ask permission but rather advise in advance, I said,
"May I have permission to go with Janey to the event on Wednesday?"
"Yes, you may go."
"Thank you."
All of this doesn't come entirely naturally to him at all, but when he can be like this for me it really does make my heart sing. It's that feeling of ownership; of belonging, that is so important to me.
A couple of days ago, my husband engaged me in very gentle sex; lots of caressing and rubbing, hair brushing; all very nice. Yet, I must confess my heart wasn't in it. I wanted to be handled; handled roughly actually. I didn't complain but he knows me well enough to know when something is wrong and for a few minutes he left the room. I was feeling a bit sorry for myself; restless; needing something more.
He returned to the bedroom and when he did he changed direction one hundred and eighty degrees. He was firm; demanding; even rough. He reached for his cane. Well, it isn't really a cane. It's a piece of dried vine that is thick, not entirely straight. It hurts a lot; even a medium tap stings. I was too surprised to do, or say, anything about it. He manhandled me, pulling me over the bed and he demanded that I stay bent over. He struck my bottom several times. I knew my son wasn't too far away and I tried not to squeal but that cane (for want of a better word) won't allow silence and I squawked out my protest.
"Pout it right out at me," he insisted. "I want to see your holes."
And, rather intimidated by his intense voice and the choice of words, together with the fact that he was beating my bottom, I did exactly as he said and stayed in precisely the position he had put me.
When he'd had enough of that, he pulled me by the hair over to the door frame that leads into the walk-in cupboard and he smacked my ass with his hand and told me to put my hands on my head and my nose to the wood and to stay there.
"Don't you dare move!"
I didn't.
He pushed and pulled at me in various ways, in both mind and body, until I was a little teary and eventually he said he was allowing me a few minutes alone and he left.
I had a little cry. But, it soon dawned on me that the assault on my sensibilities was extremely pleasing. I liked it.
Since then, there have been other encounters. Yesterday morning, I had just got into the shower when he walked in and said to "Get out. I want to use you." I got out and dried myself and when I walked into the bedroom he simply positioned me, entered me and had his way with me.
I liked that too.
He can see that I am happier.
Last night, I told him that I'd received an email from a friend to attend a charity event with her next Wednesday evening.
"Do you want to ask permission?" he said.
We looked at one another, and with a frisson between us, because I don't normally ask permission but rather advise in advance, I said,
"May I have permission to go with Janey to the event on Wednesday?"
"Yes, you may go."
"Thank you."
All of this doesn't come entirely naturally to him at all, but when he can be like this for me it really does make my heart sing. It's that feeling of ownership; of belonging, that is so important to me.
So happy for you!
ReplyDeleteHow nice that he is giving you that feeling of ownership and is taking charge the way you need him to. He is doing a good job of meeting your needs. Let's hope it continues. Good luck.
ReplyDeleteFD
I'm so glad that you've gotten this feeling from him! It is so hard to be needy.
ReplyDeleteOwnership seems a burden to some ; perhaps that is a good thing.
You know, the feeling you describe is very much reciprocal. We get a very similar charge when we take control and it delivers exactly what our submissive partner needs. It confirms our own power and at the same time reaffirms that we are taking care of our spouse. Smiles all around is the result!
ReplyDeleteMindset: It's nice to hear from you. It's such a lovely thing, to be happy for someone else and I thank you most sincerely.
ReplyDeleteFD: Yes, we had more time together to share over the past few days and experiencing that intensity of the feeling of ownership was good for me and for him too, I think. My husband loathes words like 'consistency', 'routines' and anything that implies a lack of spontaneity so what happens next is anybody's guess but I love it when he can play with me; when I feel contained and controlled. Thank you for your good thoughts.
Jake: I appreciate every word a Top or Dominant offers me on these pages and I note that you said that it confirms your power. I have this sense that some dominant men look to confirm that power to settle them or let's say, in times of anxiety or pressure, whereas I think my husband prefers to be alone when he feels overloaded. When the pressure comes off, or he allows himself to relax, then he can take care of his spouse. When he does so, he gets a real charge out of it. If he's working non-stop he doesn't even think about his cane for example, but once he does bring it out, once relaxed, he is highly turned on by it, and brings it out again and again over the next few days. I've always felt that the endgame was to have him approach life more evenhandedly, in a more relaxed fashion and if I could achieve that he'd have enormous fun taking control of me. This is my mission but one's nature is extremely hard to change.