Secret Confessions of a Smart Girl

A little after 1 PM today, my doorbell rang. It was the postman, bringing me a Christmas package from China. The very package I had been debating over keeping or giving as a gift.

The decision issue was actually a little more complicated than mentioned in that previous post, because while what was in the package would enable a mutual fantasy, the particular element in question was more his kink than mine. It was something that had been mentioned, off-hand, during a discussion of the mutually desired, but difficult to practically manage, scene, and I had fixated on the notion because I really wanted to make it possible.

So I went shopping in China… via e-bay. It’s amazing that, even with the shipping costs, it’s still cheaper to buy certain things from overseas than it is in the U.S. (like the item in question… and bamboo yarn), although I was somewhat concerned that the quality would be lacking. It’s not. The item in question is beautifully made, oddly comfortable, and sized like it was made for me - none of which I was confident about when I placed the order. I opened the package like a kid on Christmas morning, which in many ways I suppose I am, and I bubbled over with glee.

Still, the question remained - “Am I giving this to him as a present? Or am I keeping it and just offering it, along with myself, for his use?”

• On the one hand, it’s a toy I am highly unlikely to use with anyone else, whereas he might actually get quite a bit of mileage out of it.
• On the other hand, I suspect that I’m going to develop a serious case of kinky shmoop over said item if we ever get to use it in context, and I’m not going to want to share.

In the end, I think I’ve decided that I’m going with the more traditional Christmas gift I had planned, which fills me with glee in a more wholesome way, and keeping the package in question for myself for the day when we have the opportunity to use it.

That is a day to which I look forward immensely.
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_{*grin* I know I am a bitchy, bitchy tease, but it’s more fun this way. To be fair, I did tell him I was considering buying the item in question a while back. He just doesn’t know I actually went through with it. I fully intend to tell him via e-mail. Once he’s had a chance to read this. I may be submissive, but I’m also kind of a brat*.}

_{*Something which is a revelation to no one, I am sure.}

The fact is that, even though I am a workaholic who can often barely stand to step away from the computer for 4 hours at a time, I would be quite happy to spend a few days chained naked at the foot of my lovers’ bed… as long as I was confined by a snack-length chain. Long enough to get to the kitchen for snacks is also more than long enough to get to the other necessities, and so we have agreed that, in theory, that this is a reasonable condition. Also? There’s something inexplicably delightful about the phrase “snack-length chain.” It’s impossible for me to speak or hear it without smiling. The perfect combination of submission, preparation, and whimsy.

I haven’t been involved in a relationship involving this much D/s in a while - not in at least a decade, possibly not ever. I really like it. As I’ve grown more comfortable in my sexuality over the past few years I’ve learned that I don’t need power dynamics and pain to enjoy sex, but I’m still unquestionably an intensity junkie and I really like not being in control.

The simple fact is that everything is easier when it’s about doing it for someone else. Excesses of pain, excesses of pleasure are transmuted from horrible and overwhelming by the phrases “But I like it” or “Because I want to.” It’s insanely hot to see my partner get visibly excited by causing me pain or otherwise taking control. I can’t explain it, but getting to see that look is totally worth the price of admission. It takes my head to very dangerous places where voices whisper in my ear “what wouldn’t you let him do?” and instead of being chastened by them I kind of want to find out.

The snack-length chain, however, isn’t about that fear or about how much I enjoy playing with someone who enjoys testing my limits for his own enjoyment (no matter how nice those both are.) I think it’s mostly about feeling wanted and feeling safe in that. Not to mention the thought of the  sheer, sybaritic bliss of spending days wearing nothing but restraints with nothing to worry about except how to be the most pleasing and nothing to occupy my mind except for thoughts about how next I’m going to be used.

Gods but that thought is hot. Committing myself to being completely available for pain, for sex, for someone else’s pleasure for a more extended amount of time than just an isolated scene.  Even if nothing happened, the waiting itself would be exciting, not knowing what, if anything, would occur or when. Knowing I’d have no say in whether it would.  Yum. I know how my brain works. I’d likely muse myself into a frenzy of alternating lust and fear… and when it all wore off  I could test the limits of my snack-length chain.