Waiting…
I’ve been writing a lot, recently, I just haven’t been hitting “publish.” My life, as of late, has been kind of a mess, and that has been affecting my ability to narrate in a way that I am comfortable sharing publicly. My thoughts about kink and sex have been all bound up in stress and drama, and so my drafts folder is full of unshared thoughts. I haven’t given up on this blog, though. I just don’t always know what it is I want to say. Still, I do want to celebrate that one unquestionably good thing in my life has been my relationship with my MDP…
Sometimes the depth of my submission to him scares me. Far more often, it helps me reestablish my center.
When we are apart, he has recently taken to setting me a task that is oddly affecting in its simplicity. I am to remove my clothing, kneel - legs apart, and spend 15 minutes doing nothing but thinking of him and imagining him using me in various ways.
The first time he assigned this behavior to me, I couldn’t quite imagine myself doing it, but part of figuring out how to actively give myself in submission has been learning to say yes whenever doing so will not hurt me. It has been about realizing that I do, truly, get something out of doing things I do not particularly want or enjoy, simply because he wants me to. It has been about noticing that every time I realize I am doing something solely for his pleasure, I find it exciting. It has been about discovering that doing things that are hard, scary, or even unpleasant, because he wants me to, is a turn on.
The other day, he was hurting me, and I was having trouble converting the pain to pleasure. I wasn’t in any way enjoying the pain, the intensity, in the way that I normally do, but I was getting some satisfaction in saying yes to it anyway and being able to give that to him. I kept saying to myself that submission, for me, is about doing the things that are hard, that those things are tangible proof of the exchange of power that I so desperately enjoy. Stuck in my head, I kept reminding myself that I don’t only want to submit to him when he makes me feel amazing, which is most of the time, but that I truly do want to find pleasure in pleasing him… even when it’s hard. And then I did or said something, not a refusal or a negation but a statement of my dislike of what he was doing, and he scoffed, “Please, you’re soaking wet.”
If you had asked me, 30 seconds before, I would have told you I wasn’t turned on at all, but at his words I suddenly I realized my body knew something my mind did not and began enjoying it. The switch clicked on in my mind, and the submission became not an active choice but a natural state of being. All of a sudden I went from wanting to want him to hurt me and take me and control me to needing those things with a desperation and intensity that made me beg. Submission to him does so often come so naturally to me that in a way it’s nice to have the reminder that I want him so much that I can still act the part when it doesn’t… and by acting have it transformed into truth.
Which brings us back to my homework. The first time I took off my clothes to kneel naked on the floor and think of him, I did so with doubts in my mind. I was never tempted to lie about it, or cheat the time, but I couldn’t imagine just doing that for 15 minutes. I thought I’d get bored. I thought I’d stare endlessly at the clock. I thought the whole exercise would feel ridiculous.
I was wrong. I figured that out around minute four. It turns out that, even when I am alone, having a quiet, focused time of submission is both centering and incredibly hot.
It’s now something I look forward to. I strip off my clothing and can feel his eyes on me, even from another state. I kneel and am consumed by thoughts of the ways in which he could use my body as his own. I spread my legs wider and imagine doing so at his command - if he were the only one to see; if we were in a room full of other people. I feel his hand at the back of my neck - pulling my mouth onto his cock or pushing my face to the floor so that my spine bends and my body is further bared for display. I think about him using my mouth, my cunt, my ass for his pleasure or simply beating me until I bleed.
I don’t wait; I dream. I’m not passive; I’m calm. I kneel and focus on him, and, as the stresses and dramas of the day drain away, I find myself refilled with desire.
We’ve been together long enough that by now I really should have learned that, in certain ways, my MDP knows me better than I know myself. Specifically, he seems to have drawn a map of my emotional landscape that is somewhat clearer than my own - in particular when looking at the areas related to submission and arousal. He’s not only very good at leading me into temptation, he’s even better at drawing me out of damnation. That makes it easy to say “yes” to him, even when it’s hard.
He’s also an amazing source of emotional support when life is stressful, and for that I can not thank him enough.

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