Sometimes, Sweetheart could convince herself that she was actually the one in charge all along.
hold
Full Service, Part Three
Soon, we went up to my bedroom and I took out the items of our mutual sex toy collection that wound up at my place: two separate lengths of rope, a pair of tweezer-style nipple clamps, a pair of clover clamps, a flogger and my knockoff hitachi (whose power apparently pales in comparison to the real thing.)
He ordered me to remove my clothes and pointed for me to kneel in front of him. I obeyed, wanting to be good for him.
“Bring me the rope,” Craftsmate said. I obeyed as he moved to stand by my bed. “In your mouth.“
"Yes, Sir,” I replied, taking the rope into my mouth carefully and crawling over to him. I set it down at his feet and gazed up at him eagerly. As he reached down to muss my hair, I felt this really overwhelming urge to be good for him. I wanted so badly to just be a good girl.
So, I set to kissing his cock through his slacks, nuzzling it and staring up at him with my best pleading eyes until he removed his pants. “If you want me to let you go deep,“ he said, holding a fistful of my hair, “you’ll be a very good girl and treat my cock well.”
The only issue was that worshipping his cock made me subspaced anyway. It got to the point where I would deep throat him, pull back to breathe and feel so spacey and dizzy that I would slump forward. He would grab me back the hair and put me back onto his cock, letting me go deeper as he took charge.
“I’m deep already,” I murmured. My voice had gotten small. “I’m really deep.“
He smiled and settled down onto the floor beside me, holding me close. When he kissed my forehead and my cheeks, I felt myself swell in the warm way I do when he’s sweet while I’m starting to get really subspaced.
"You want me to tie you up?” he asked, stroking my hair. I nodded, moaning softly. He reached down and picked up my panties. After balling them up, he held them out to me. “In your mouth. Now.“
Without objection, I accepted them and pressed the wad of lace past my teeth.
She’s the kind of girl
who pulls hard
but not so hard that he’ll let go.
Ugh, I need to just fade away like this.
“Maybe it meant something. Maybe not, in the long run, but no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of time and the world. Whatever it meant.” – Hunter S. Thompson, Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.
“I hope that someday, somebody wants to hold you for twenty minutes straight, and that’s all they do. They don’t pull away. They don’t look at your face. They don’t try to kiss you. All they do is wrap you up in their arms, without an ounce of selfishness in it.” – Waitress.
Sometimes, she’s a little too eager to be coy.
Today was sunny and gorgeous. It was only a week since the last time we saw each other, but we embraced as if much more time had passed.
When we walked to lunch, he held my hand and responded to my giddiness with something that was vaguely Daddylike. He mussed my hair and moved his arm around my shoulder to guide me on turns. I could see an effort to meet me halfway on this, which was only confirmed when he told me that I could sometimes call him Daddy. Which is exactly how I’d want it, just sometimes and not all the time.
Later on, we fucked in my childhood bedroom. He must have appreciated the post I made the other day because he wound up hogtying me and taking me from behind. He was clever and tied the legs separately, so it was only a semi-hogtie and he could maneuver my legs to get deeper. We took a couple of photos of the encounter and maaaaybe if you’re nice I’ll share one or two.
I got massively subspaced and he took great care of me. We had some lovely pillow talk afterwards, some centering on a post he made recently over the fact that we miss being able to go to bed together and cook meals together.
Overall, it was a lovely day, but it makes me a little sad and anxious for the upcoming year and the fact that we will be embarking on a much longer long-distance relationship.
Pretty likes it when you beg.
But she likes it best when you deliver.
A while ago, Craftsmate and I were in bed together, spooning, when the topic of the whole Daddy/little dynamic came up. He’s not into it at all. While he respects the fact that I like it, he just doesn’t understand it.
“I spoke to Penthouse about it,” he said, “and he said it kind of added a dimension of guidance to the normal dynamic. Like a protection thing. And it makes me think that you feel like I can’t protect you.”
I felt my stomach turn over. It’s not like that at all, it’s a classic case of the way we sometimes interpret things in wildly different ways. We joke that we’re the same Myers-Briggs type, but there are some moments where we don’t connect and some signals get crossed.
And while Craftsmate told me the other day that he is completely at peace with the whole thing now and is totally fine with it, it still stings that he thought I felt that way.