The other night, Pup tied my wrists with rope, secured them to the headboard, and proceeded to fuck me with my knees bent up to my chest.
The knots were rather loose. So when we finished and Pup said goodnight, turned off the bedside lamp and rolled over without untying me, I wasn’t remotely worried about not being able to get out. But I decided to pursue it. “Hey,” I pouted.
“You’re going to leave me this way?” I asked.
Pup snorted. “You could get out of that in a minute or two. I’ve seen you get out of much worse.”
“Do you want me to let you out, then?” Pup asked.
“Damn it, woman,” Pup joked. “Make up your mind.”
I hesitated. I didn’t want him to let me out, but I didn’t want him to admit it would be so easy to get out. I guess I wanted him to gloat about it, maybe? But it’s weirdly hard for me to communicate the whole “I want to adamantly pout and say no even though I’m really enjoying this” thing.
Which I think might tie in with the fact that I struggle to ask for what I want and just end up hoping that my partner will just, you know, guess completely accurately. Which is incredibly unsustainable, I know, but sometimes I’m just entirely too shy or embarrassed to articulate what I really want.