Page 22 of Not About That Life
My pussy quivered and shook around His cock as Sir crushed His lips upon mine. We stayed in that position for a short while before He moved. I felt his pounding heartbeat against mine, his sweaty forehead next to my neck, Things were different between us now.
We were in full-blown, knee-deep into a BDSM relationship.
I wasn’t naïve enough to think it was only going to be about sex. I knew there were going to be some things Sir was going to do I wouldn’t agree with or be comfortable. But I also knew I needed to trust Him with everything. Sir said He would never put me in any harm or danger, and I believe Him.
I only hope I can rise up to what’s in store.
Sir pulls out of me and gently removes the rope as He holds me against His body. He then picks me up and carries me to our bedroom, where He lays me down. The coolness of our bedroom is in contrast to the hotness on my skin and the energy moving between us.
Things are different now. We’re closer than before, if that was possible. I feel like I can trust Him with anything. He’s already saved my life numerous times and now He’s taken me to a place I’d never been before.
I want more. I want all of it.
Sir leaves for a short while and comes back with ice water and a moist towel. He gives me the water before He gently blots my skin with the towel, cooling me down and seemingly, bringing me back to earth.
So many emotions are going through my body and I have no idea how to process them all. What do I say? What can I say? How am I supposed to feel?
“This isaftercare,” He quietly mentions as he continues to blot my heated skin, “it’s to bring you down from the high and talk about what you just went through. All submissives are supposed to go through this with a Dom who knows His shit.”
There’s a bite of anger within Sir’s tone and I have a feeling it’s a touchy subject within the BDSM community. He lies next to me and caresses my face with the moist towel before He kisses around my lips but not quite touching them.
“How are you feeling?”
I’m feeling all sorts of emotion. I want to experience more. I want tasks. I want discipline. Maybe this would help me become more serious about my career. Maybe this would help me with the property purchases.
Maybe I can start becoming more aggressive. “I feel wonderful, Sir.”
“Why?”
I wasn’t expecting thewhyof it. I have to think carefully about my answer. What was it about tonight specifically that made me feel that way?
“It was different. I had no control over my hands, and really, not that much in my legs. The only control I had was…”
There’s that light bulb I’ve been looking for.
“You were saying, pet?” He encourages me.
“The only control I had was my mouth. I had to vocalize what I wanted, how much I wanted it, and when – if I did – want you to stop.” There’s the emboldened Domi. How you doing, girl?
Ian slowly blinks at me and smiles. “That’s great to hear.” He pauses. “We’ll go over more about this in the morning. I need you to rest up. Next week, we’re going to New York.”
“Oh?” I know it’s already Christmas season but I don’t think we’re going to see the big-ass Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center being lit up. “What’s in New York?”
“My friends, Nick and Zerrin,” He caresses my face. “They’ll teach you more about the Lifestyle and if it’s something you really want.”
Nicholas D’Amato, the sexy professor at NYU and his wife, Zerrin, looking like a goddess with finger-width braids and always seem to smell like vanilla. “What about You, Sir?” I ask. “Is this something You want?”
“I only want it if you do,” He replies, “but if you don’t, I’ll be just fine.”
I don’t want to be in a position where if I don’t give Ian what He wants, He’ll go somewhere else. “What if I don’t want to do BDSM all of the time? Maybe just sometimes?”
“That’s fine, too, angel.” He rubs my back and all is okay in the world. “This isn’t about fulfilling just My needs and wishes, but yours as well.”
I have the taste of power and control, for the first time, in our relationship. I like this. I like this a lot. “Are You going to spank me?”
“Yes.”
“Pull my hair?”
