But please believe me.... I sure did.
You guys pretty much have my number by now, right? You know what kinds of scenes I like -- I like to be playful, I'm sassy, I love the banter and push-pull. Overall, I am a feisty and spirited bottom.
But sometimes... I really, really like the damsel-in-distress scenario. I don't know why. It so completely goes against my personality. But damn, it's so hot.
I like the fear factor. It isn't real fear... I know real fear. I'm afraid of many things. No, it's the good kind of fear... the trepidation, the not knowing, but trusting that ultimately, you'll be all right because you're in the best of hands. It's the thrill and terror of free-falling, and yet knowing someone is there to catch you. It's knowing that he could do some terrible things to you if he wanted to... but he won't. He'll just make you think he will. For those moments, you believe.
I didn't know we were going there tonight. I don't think ST did either. It just sort of happened.
Our scene started like most others -- OTK warmup, me running my mouth. When he said, "You need a good spanking, don't you," I snarked, "What was your first clue, Einstein?" He then whaled so hard and fast with his tawse, I squeaked, "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry!!"
"Yeah, you will be," he said, fishing around in his bag. I thought he was going for a heavier implement. Then I felt him pull my arms back behind me. Then I felt the ropes. He tied my feet, too.
"Now you don't know WHAT kind of nasty things I'm going to do to you," he said coolly. "And there's nothing you can do about it, either. Is there!"
I went from smartass to shaking in a matter of seconds.
He never raised his voice. I hate raised voices. But his smooth and steely tones made me tremble and put tears in my eyes.
It wasn't the same kind of crying as last week. Last week was pure emotional release. This was... I don't know what this was. Just feeling wound up, hyper-stimulated, beyond excited. I strained against the ropes and scrubbed my face into the bedspread, praying he wouldn't make me scream.
While I appreciate the intensity of tears during a scene, I am self-conscious about mine. As our beloved Pixie likes to say: "Tears are hot -- snot is not." In bondage, I couldn't wipe my face or my nose. When he leaned down to look into my face, I turned away.
"Are you trying to hide from me?" he asked. "Yes," I murmured.
"You can't hide from me. Maybe I should just put you in position so I can look at you," he said, grabbing my shoulder and rolling me onto my back.
I twisted my head to look away, rolled my eyes back. No, no, don't look at me. But I could still feel his eyes on me, his hands. Enjoying himself. Enjoying my discomfort.
Only with someone I trust so completely could I do this. He knew that. And he knew just what he could do, and what would violate me. The latter wouldn't happen. I knew that logically. But still... when he's in Dr. Hyde mode, he knows how to make me wonder.
Finally, he rolled me back over onto my belly and finished me off with the strap. "If I let you go, will you be a good girl?" I nodded vigorously. He untied me.
And just like that, the sweet and gentle ST reappeared.
Several minutes later, he asked how I was feeling.
"Very relaxed," I replied. After a moment, I added, "And absolutely amazed at the places I can go with you."
"Me too."
I suppose I could analyze and overanalyze why I want to go to this edgy territory sometimes. But I'd rather not. I'm just grateful I have the perfect companion who goes there with me. And when I go over the edge, he's my net.
