Wednesday, March 29, 2006

So jealous ... of a movie


So, as I posted on the other place, I watched The Secretary earlier this week. I liked it as a movie, and god did it make me hot. It also nearly brought me to tears. When Lee (the female lead) looked at Edward and said "I love you" with all that rawness, my heart stopped. One of the things I've been trying hard to come to terms with about my relationship with Sir is that it's never going to quite be what it could.

For those who missed my very first posts in the other place, I'm in a polyamorous relationship. I have a partner, L, who I love with all my heart. Our 14th anniversary is the 19th. I cannot imagine my life without her. She is very aware of my relationship with Sir (and my previous relationships) and more importantly, she's okay with that. We've pretty much come to terms with how we do poly. Obviously, Sir is aware of L, and they've met (now THAT was an interesting dinner!).

Sir seems okay with this poly thing. However, he's pretty open on his profile that he's looking for a long-term, full-time submissive. I can't be that. If I didn't have L, I think there would at least be a possibility. But I don't even want to give up L. To be very clear, Sir has never even implied that I should. If anything, he is more protective of my relationship with L. His respect for that is one of the reasons I can trust him as fully as I do.

Today I read that one of my favorite bloggers over there has been collared. Underneath my joy for her was sadness/wistfulness. It is highly unlikely that I will ever have the honor of wearing Sir's collar. I've kind of hinted at the subject a couple of times. Sir has been pretty clear that to him, collaring and using "Master" are a very personal ownership thing, and he doesn't think that's appropriate to our situation.

When I sit down and think about it, it doesn't really change anything. Whether I wear something around my neck or not, I still trust Sir, fully and still strive to submit to him as fully as I can. Objectively, logically, rationally, I'm okay with this. But every once in a while ... oh I long to know what it feels like to have him claim me like that.

So what does this have to do with that scene from The Secretary? It's far to early to really be able to say it, but I don't really even dare dream it. Deep in my secret heart, I want to hope that someday I could say the same to him.

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

The first steps

My hands were shaking as I drove towards the restaurant. My mind was racing. I'd done everything he'd ordered. Skirt. No panties. Thigh-high stockings, although those had required a trip to Kohls for new ones. Squirming to remove my panties and get the stockings on in the Kohls parking lot had been difficult. My safecall to S was arranged. Was I crazy to be doing this? It was all moving so fast. I'd responded to Sir's email on bondage.com just on two days ago. We'd talked via IM yesterday, and then I'd been so shameless on cam and on the phone for him. Somehow hearing his voice had made it so easy. Low, just a bit of gravel, stern, yet with such focus and attention behind it; I melted before that voice.

I pulled into the parking lot, so thankful Sir had told me of the lot. I hate parallel parking, and it's worse when I'm nervous. Fortunately, I got one of the last spots in the lot, all the way at the back. Hurrying, I headed for the restaurant. I was early for once, and I worried about if I should wait at the door for him or get a table. Maybe he'd already be there. The picture from his profile was strong in my head; I really hoped I'd recognize him.

Inside the restaurant, I stopped to scan the nearby tables, hoping to see him. My eyes roamed the room and suddenly Sir caught my eye and waved. Wow -- he was definitely better-looking than that picture implied. Shaved head, goatee, blue eyes that I could feel peering into my soul from across the room. Strength radiated from him. Almost breathless, I made my way around the room to the high two top he was seated at. Still those eyes drew me on. I arrived at the table. Acutely conscious of the couple at the table next to ours, I bent to follow his order. "You will not wear panties, and when we meet, you will kiss my right hand. You will only address me as Sir, and I will only call you Whore." It was a strong hand. "Hello Sir," I breathed.


Somehow my coat was off, my purse hung on the back of the chair, and I climbed up into the stool. I hadn't taken bar stools into account when I'd chosen my clothing. While the long black skirt was a combination of demure ankle-length and a pair of slits up to each thigh, it took some settling to get comfortable. I wondered if Sir noticed the slits or not. Up close, the eye contact was positively electric. I could hardly breathe.

The waitress materialized, almost startling me. I looked to him; he had an O'Douls in front of him. The decision was made that we'd start with something to drink and see about dinner. I was relieved that he wasn't drinking alcohol as it meant I wouldn't stand out by not having any myself. My diet appeared quickly and she left us be for a bit. I called S, checked in, told her that everything was fine. I'd call her at 10 pm to check in again.

Sir quietly began discussing how he came to this lifestyle and asked how I had come to this point. I had to work hard to remain focused on the conversation; just being at the table with him was mesmerizing. He was so open, revealing things that aren't easy to just toss into conversation. It drew me out. I kept wanting to nearly drown in his eyes. I could not break the contact, even when it seemed he could see everything about me. There was such an aura of control about him.

Dinner was ordered and arrived. I think I ate some of it; I remember the waitress was concerned I hadn't liked the food. I certainly couldn't explain to her that I'd been far too mesmerized to actually eat much. As I tried to explain to her that I just wasn't that hungry, the small smile on his face said he knew why I'd hardly eaten.

We talked about limits and what each of us wanted. I finally had to tell Sir that all I knew for sure was that I wanted to give up control, to be used for another's pleasure. I wanted to find out what my limits really were. Then that low, soft voice began to tell me what he liked, what he would be doing to me. I remember flashes of it. The sudden realization that he'd just said he liked his ass licked. That, at least, I'd done and hadn't minded. Piss play -- he liked that, liked how nasty it was. Oh, the shivers that went down my spine every time he said "nasty." With a deep breath, I figured I'd give it a try. It would be a stretch, but I wanted to please him so badly already. I thought I would melt off my chair as he told me that I would fuck other men for him.

At some point, I realized the sheer quantity of diet coke I'd been drinking meant I needed the ladies room NOW. Careful to get his okay (just in case that was important to him), I slid off the stool. Returning, his grin hit me full force as he asked if I was wet. "Very," I honestly replied.

We talked about my relationship with L. He was relieved to hear that I had her express permission to play with others; she simply wasn't going to know the full context. I needed to know that I truly liked and needed this before I confronted her with these desires. Finally, Sir asked if I wanted to take this further. With an odd sense of fate, I said I did.

With that agreement, it was time to leave. We stood up, I got my coat and purse. As we walked out, I realized Sir was going to walk me to my car. He said something about checking to see if I could follow instructions. My brain raced, wondering what would happen when we got there. As we walked, I realized how big he was. There was a confusing maelstrom of safety and danger whirling inside of me.

We were standing next to my car. I turned to face Sir and looked up into those incredibly deep eyes again. Suddenly his hand was tangled in my hair, holding me so firmly as he kissed me. Oh. my. god. That kiss was as though all the controlled passion that had lurked beneath his surface exploded at once. I just melted into him. I could have spent hours revelling in that passion and control. Yet there was undercurrent of tenderness running through it. Then Sir pulled my head back and gave me his fingers to suck. I tried so hard to do my best. The groan that was pulled from his throat gave me my answer. His voice was so close in my ear for the first time, asking if I wished it were his cock. Finally I managed to gasp, "Yes Sir."

I was completely immersed in this experience. It was nearly shattering to realize how much I wanted this. How natural it was to be standing here in a parking lot, sucking his fingers, and to be completely focused on it. Nothing else mattered. When Sir released me, it was almost a shock to come back to myself a bit more. With a murmur from him, I found myself fondling his hardon through his pants. He felt huge!

He ordered me into my car to sit down and then prove that I could follow instructions. Trembling, I took off my coat, threw it to the passenger seat and sat down. Taking a deep breath, I spread my legs and pulled up the front flap of my skirt. Sir leaned over and brushed his fingers over the cunt he'd seen spread for him on cam yesterday. He exclaimed that he could smell my arousal from some distance away. Inwardly I squirmed with a combination of humiliation and pride that was heady stuff. He ran his finger up my slit, slapped my thigh, and gave me his finger to clean.

Sir glanced around the parking lot, opened his coat further, and suddenly his cock was before my face. Almost growling, he told me I knew what to do with it. That I did! With a feeling approaching reverence, I leaned over to take him in my mouth. God he tasted good and felt even better. From above me, I heard that voice again, telling me what a good whore I was, sucking cock in a parking lot. Sparkles ran down my spine as I realized that I was. It wasn't the easiest angle, but I did my best to demonstrate that I did love sucking cock. I was truly disappointed when he pulled out of my mouth and told me to put his cock back in his pants. I was promptly mortified to realize I'd never done that to a guy before. I did the best I could, but I truly do hope I didn't leave him uncomfortable. With a last kiss and a promise to talk soon, he left.

I sat in the car and just shook for a minute. I was overwhelmed with all that I'd experienced. Additionally, I was trying to comprehend that prim and proper me, who doesn't even really get hit on, had just done this. I'd met a strange man for dinner and then made out with him in the parking lot. I desperately wanted to go further. What had I begun?

Sunday, March 12, 2006

Trying to keep myself in check


I so wish that I was better able to keep myself on an even emotional keel. I have no idea when I will see Sir next. I have at least spoken to him via IM this morning, which I thought would help. Yet it kind of upped the feeling of limbo. Our last session was a bit last-minute and neither of us was really in the right space. My body completely failed to cooperate -- my ass wasn't clean and then I was spotting. I puked when Sir was face-fucking me. I did at least manage to be of service in helping him cum, which is difficult while he adjusts to his new medication. I can't stop thinking that I just don't please him anymore. Three sessions in a row where he wasn't able to do some of his favorite things.

It's so hard for me to believe and understand that I am desireable, that someone else sees me as sexy, that someone wants to have sex with me, and not just because I'm there and convenient. I'm afraid I've stopped being convenient and now I'm not any fun anymore. My brain really likes to rehearse things many many times in advance. I wish I could get it to stop rehearsing how I'll learn that it is over, that if I want to continue to serve in this way I must find someone else I trust that much. Because objectively, if I look at it, there is no concrete reason to believe this. He specifically told me last time that he was not upset with me, he held me so close and so wonderfully. He's told me that he tends to be spontaneous, that it is hard for him to adjust to have to schedule time with me in advance. I'm learning how much I had leaned on knowing when I would be used next, usually within a few days.

I feel like such a whiny baby, complaining like this. I'm an adult. I should be able to suck it up and deal with this. I'm swinging so far between determination to keep thinking that things are fine, to keep thinking about a public flogging on Wednesday (he hasn't said we're NOT going ...), and thinking that I'm going to have to go get my cake taker before the Tupperware party. Why can't I make my brain/my heart/this damn gerbil running on a wheel in my head see reason? Why do I twist myself up inside, make L miserable, waste so much energy worrying about something I have very little control over?

I just want something to reassure me that he still wants me to serve him, that he does want to use me as I crave to used. I worry that I'm getting clingy and annoying, yet I feel as if I'll split in two if I don't KNOW one way or the other soon. What I want more than anything is to sit at his feet, hug his leg, feel him pet my hair, and let the music wash over me. To know that here I am free to be all of me, here it is safe to be the whore he names me. To simply wait for the next way I can please him.