It’s been almost exactly two years now! How many sessions? I suspect more than one a month. Thirty? Forty even? Are you bored of me yet? I’m so completely not bored of you. Nor of the things you do to me, the things we do together. For me, it still feels new and fresh, edgy and exciting.
There’s been so much:
there has been your old place, your new place, rental dungeons and hotel bedrooms;
there have been hot threesomes, kidnap scenes, wordless sessions and shared beatings from HIM;
there was you fucking me while I ate Katie, there was your sweet vanilla friend watching wide-eyed as you took me apart and, of course, there was Lilly’s first time;
there were dinners, the opera, the Cirque du Soleil and those incredible burgers at Eroticon;
It’s been amazing and you’ve taught me so, so much about myself.
And yet……. and yet…. If I were forced to pick one session to be our only session for as long as we continue to see each other, it might well be the hour we spent together yesterday.
It was the simplest of meetings: you roped me to the ceiling and whipped me, then strapped be to a bench and beat me and you made me come. I was out of the door exactly 60 minutes after I arrived.
Why was it so perfect? Why am I wearing a mile-wide smile today and feeling that gravity is for other people?
Was it that we both really wanted it? Seemingly answering each other’s needs; mine to suffer, yours to cause suffering?
Was it the perfect balance between challenge and reward, between pain and pleasure. After each beating your touch seemed softer than the touch before, your body held against mine waiting for my breathing to settle. I remember the way I leaned back into you slightly and how you answered my pressure with yours.
Was it how turned on I was? Turned on by your beauty and your power; by my submission and my helplessness; turned on by the flood of sensations and the fight to overcome them.
Perhaps it was how turned on you were. Little noises as you hit me; hot, sexy, turned on little noises. Are they the noises you make when he fucks you? I think they might be.
Or was it the connection between us; the intense, deep understanding born of the perfectly interlocking yin and yang of your dominance and my submission;
It was, I think, all these things and more.
It was your kiss. You kissed me on the lips, a reward perhaps for taking all you had needed to give. Will it surprise them out there to know that, in two years, it was the first time you’ve done that. My whispered “Thank You, Mistress;” wanting you to know that I knew that this was a special thing, earned me a second kiss. I have never felt closer to you than at that moment.
It was my orgasm. It came from a place from which orgasm’s just don’t come, from the deep subspace where your final, harsh, relentless beating had pushed me, my body’s ancient responses drawing blood away from the extremities to the centre to protect itself from the threat you posed. Yet I came easily and naturally and never doubted that I would, shuddering and shaking long after your hand had left my softening cock and your teeth had left my nipples.
So, yes. It was the simplest of sessions. Yet it was also the most complex. It will, I think, stay with me for a long time.
And if you are haven’t yet grown bored of me, I’d like to play with you some more.
With admiration and affection from your “not very submissive” submissive;