I‘m not ready to share him yet. These last two weeks are mine and I intend to milk him to the full. My desire for him is too big to allow anyone else in. But I find myself considering the future: a time when he and I have moved beyond the emotion and can fuck without fucking each other up. I imagine us sharing the pleasures of a nubile woman, someone we can nurture through the path of fetish, whose youthful energy will inspire new games. Double headed blow jobs, fisting daisy chains, orgasm races – a host of kinky ideas pour from me. I know my lover would willingly make them all come true. I know that I’m not ready to do so with him yet. The sex is easy: it’s the letting go that’s hard. My body says yes but my mind is educated enough to know I shouldn’t put myself through it.
For now, we have fourteen days together.
On day one, I learn that I love deep throating.
On day two, I realise that gagging makes me wet.
On day three, I discover that choking back my own vomit to keep his cock in my throat makes me spasm in bliss as the tears flow down my face. When I do it four times in a row, I feel pure: his sexual pleasure is all that matters. Pleasing my Master gives me the kind of gratification that I need right now.
We move through new fetishes at a rapid pace. The dark times from my past fade with every slap and pinch and gobbet of spittle that trickles down my cheek. When his piss rains down over my face, I feel honoured he is giving it to me. I know he doesn’t enjoy golden showers but my arousal turns him on: and his willingness to violate me in the ways that I need makes me love him more.
I tell him I am curious about branding. He laughs, tells me branding is serious, that I could never take the pain. It’s a lifelong commitment that is seared into your flesh. I consider the reality and agree I’m not ready for it – but I am still curious. One heated lighter later and I have a circular burn on my hip. Over coming days, it will add an extra thrill to every spanking, deliberate hands making sure I am reminded of my choice to embrace pain. I am grateful for every slap.
I feel calm for the first time: content, settled and fulfilled. The pain he inflicts bathes me, making me free to cry and scream and laugh and shout. Angry feelings burst through unexpected. I’ve never felt this before. I want to push my limits further for him, for me. I don’t want him to release me from pain. I want to become stronger by fighting through the worst he can offer. I recite the Litany Against Fear with every stroke of his cane and slap of his hand, facing the pain, embracing the pain, and coming through the other side shaking and crying, grateful and needy.
He tends to every need. Massage, chocolate, warm baths, affection – all are provided in abundance. The more he shames me, the more he tends me. I have never felt more loved. I have never felt more abused.
And for the first time in years, the ache is gone.