M knows me so well. I never knew it was possible for anyone to get me like he gets me. He doesn’t always understand each and every individual emotion or thought process that brings me to a place, unless I explain it, but he knows what motivates me. He understands my core as a person and how I operate. He knows what I need to feel right and good. And, he lives to provide whatever that is.
On Sunday, we talked about so many things. One of those things was a job possibility for M. It’s a long shot, but it would mean a big move. There would be repercussions for my business, but big opportunities for me at the same time. Our girls would change schools and we’d have to sell our home. We may need to be apart for a time. There are so many things to worry and fret about, even if it is just a possibility. Because, if it’s not this possibility, he’s looking for other possibilities. It’s on the horizon sooner or later.
Of course, I cried. Crying is my relief valve, my overflow. As soon as our talk slowed down, he bent me over the ottoman and fucked me silly. He used the crop, which is rather thick and rigid, longer and harder than ever before, on my ass and my back, and other delicate places too. Each and every time it landed, it left a hot sting followed by a burn. A sting on top of another sting, a burn on top of a burn. The flogger followed, that soft, thick, encompassing thud on top off those red, pinpointed, stinging and burning spots was pure bliss. The wide, stern thwack of the giant stirring paddle was a radiating heat right over top of those tender spots on my ass, the waves reaching to the ends of all my finger and toes. I cried, not because it hurt, but because I knew he knew. They were tears of appreciation and relief. As he went on, if he thought I was about to let my brain engage again, he swatted the soles of my feet with that crop and I was instantly in the moment again. The words he used, the sound of his voice in my ear, the grip of his fist in my hair and on my neck – there was only he and I and that moment in time. He pushed my boundaries, especially since I was still tender all over from the days before, and he calmed me, stopping the tears, halting my brain. All thought about those potential worries was gone in a matter of minutes. He made me come. And come. And come. Spooning himself around me, he fucked me some more, reassurance passing between us; he will always be my safety net. Then, do you know what he did? He stopped. He said, “That’s it for now, I’ll finish later.” Guess what? I’m not allowed to question or worry. It’s a rule, dammit. Then, he snuggled me in for some much needed aftercare.
M knew exactly what I needed. He took the air right out of that worry-filled balloon that would have hovered over me all day long. All that potential stress was kept at a realistic, manageable level. Instead of allowing that worry to sneak in again, all I could do was anticipate the finishing.
Later, I let him take video of my expressions during sex. It was just us, no toys. I came, on video. Let’s face it, I didn’t really have a choice about the coming part. You know why I let him take that video? Because, when he looks at my expressions and I see into his eyes – all I see is love and desire and pride. I feel beautiful. I don’t have a single care in the world, other than to continue giving him whatever it takes to keep that expression on his face. I feel like I’m his mirror – I AM that look on his face. I AM that desire in his eyes. He knew I needed to see that, too, to see myself through his eyes. That man is a genius.
I thanked and thanked him for always knowing what I need. Then I begged and pleaded for him to erase that video. I mean, he can see those looks anytime he wants in real life…..