Friday, March 20, 2009

Remember: You DO Worry For Nothing

I found an apartment I think. I’d given up finding one on my own and turned to a rental agent. Scheduling appointments with too many people was leaving me cranky and without a place to live. But I viewed three yesterday. The fourth was right on Main Street in Nashua and in a box building with no character at all. Nothing I wanted to live in for sure. One more to look at tomorrow or Monday...but if not, I’m good too.
But the one that I found, well- I had a choice of two. The first had an entire attic area attached. This would have been good for storage, and probably we could have come up with a hard point or two, but all in all...those were the only redeeming features.

The other one. I drooled over. Two bedrooms, one with french doors and a bay window. Lots of closets- LOTS of closets. Character and details everywhere. I’d be happy there. And, I don’t think it’ll bother Sir too much. Top floor so no noises over us. No AC, but I can always put one in the window this summer. Lots of windows. Light and airy.

Afterwards, I went home and took a shower and packed. I hadn’t really thought too much more about what happened last night. I took a valium and felt much better- more calm. I hate those things. They make me sleepy and do weird things to my stomach. But better a tired tummy ache than how I was feeling.

I called Sir and told him I was on my way. His text messages seemed pretty normal. And I began to hope that, while he probably hadn’t forgotten about the meltdown, he’d probably just wouldn’t mention it. At least I hope.

Driving to Natick on valium was a trip. I put the cd on (Evenesence) and rolled down the window. Feeling the breeze and looking at the colors of the songs was nice and mellowed me out. Wearing no underwear under my skirt was nice too. The breeze felt good. Funny how one little pill can alter my mood so much.

Arrived at Sir’s after stopping for tomato sauce.

Now, tomato sauce is a funny thing. I know what I mean when I say it, but that’s one of those words that has a different meaning to a lot of people. Sauce, paste, jarred, canned, with tomato pieces, without...so many options and everyone calls them sauce. I giggled with the thought of coming back with one of each just to make sure that he got what he needed, but then I remembered...he says what he means. Just get plain...sauce. I hope he means sauce and not paste though. That’d be funny.

Anyway, got to Sir’s house. Brought my stuff in, gave him the sauce. Looked at him and told him what a rough day it’d been. I’d been preparing to go into the living room to kneel and center, but he just hugged me. I couldn’t tell though if he was happy to see me yet. He had a weird look on his face.

He’d been making dinner. Chicken tortillas and mole. With rice- that’s why he needed the sauce. A recipe he’d gotten from his mother. I asked if he would like some help and help I did. We talked about his mother, the recipes, got a few hugs and kisses in. And when it was ready. We ate together. I don’t really remember what we talked about but it was nice just sitting and eating something that he liked. And, it was delicious. My first mole. Things were looking up.

After dinner, we sat in his chair, he ate the jello just how I usually do, asked me to get his rope, and he tied my wrists. He’d done some planning for tonight obviously. Then he tied my hands to the strap he’d already rigged up from the balcony. He blindfolded me, asked me how long I thought I could stay with my hands like that, and began with tickles. Why always fucking tickles?

Then flogging. Ah...I thought...finally flogging. I love that. I can’t explain the attraction of that particular sensation, but that’s one of my favorites. I could stand there for hours and be flogged...but it’s usually more than someone could do to me...their arms get tired. He put on some nice music. I liked that one. Got me into a really nice headspace, and along with the rope cuffs, the valium and the relaxed space we’d had together while he was tying...I was feeling very very nice.
H brought out the W-wheel and started on my back, my sides, and my chest. I don’t think he actually knew how much that toy on someone’s chest hurts..while at the same time feels pretty darned interesting. He tried it on himself this morning...I couldn’t really tell what he thought though. He said it hurt...but does he understand the attraction of it? Points to ponder.

My hands had started tingling and so he took them down. Disappointment again. I heard that. What’s wrong with me that I’m not able to do all of the things that I used to? Nothing- except too much time. But he told me not to move. I was in such a good space, that I forgot to ask about moving fingers and chin. Remember that one. Ask if I’m allowed to move my head out of the way and if I’m allowed to flex my fingers and hands. I did both though and he didn’t seem too upset about it. But ask next time woulda?

He was a little surprised that I was able to be flogged, wheeled, and belted...all without moving..except to move my head out of the way and to flex my hands.

I’m wondering if we’ve actually moved a little too fast. He should know that I’m able to do that. He said he’d read my writings, but I don’t think he really understood just how deep these things are in me....how my funny brain works when just told to do something that he wants. I can’t always...but I’m getting better too. That trust thing. The more I trust, the easier that is. But I was tired and he put me to bed. I was still blindfolded and trusted him to lead me. I walked. Unhesitatingly for the most part...at least until the stairs. Stairs are always hard when blindfolded. Must remember to count them the next time I’m there.

I fell asleep for a while and when I woke up..he was downstairs watching tv and had finished more jello. I think that’s cute. Jello. We went back upstairs to cuddle and play. More cuddle I think. I think he’s tired too. We’re both trying to fit too much into a short time. We’ve got time darling...we have that together now.

He laid me on the bed...and wouldn’t let me kiss him. He wanted me to beg. He wanted to hear how I would do that.

Begging. Hunph. I’ve never been really good at begging, mostly because I just accept. I want things...who doesn’t? But I’ve learned to put what I want on the back burner in favor of accepting what’s wanted to be given. But. I never thought about begging as what someone wanted to be given.

It’s interesting how many things are changing in my head now.

But I really wanted a kiss. I love his kisses...the feel of his lips on mine..the closeness, the little wiggle of pleasure that reaches down to my toes. And I thought..just for a second...that yes..I would beg for his kisses. Because I wanted them. Am I supposed to want? Yes. You can do that. Not a slave...you’re his...but you’re still you. This is different. Different feelings, different dynamic. You do want those things.

And beg I did. It isn’t begging as in “please.please.please”, but the only way I could actually beg....tell him why I wanted it...why I wanted him. And something odd happened.....I cried. I wanted it so badly that I cried. What the fuck was that all about?

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