Stalemate

It seems we are at a stalemate, Daddy and I. How do you bring up your desire for BDSM when one of the issues that you're working on is a difficulty in articulating what you want, what you need? I am finding that our sex life (at least in that vein) is currently nonexistent. We talked about it last night, kind of, and his reasoning is that my mood has been so low over the past few weeks (due to circumstances outside both my control and our relationship) that he doesn't want to make me feel forced into a BDSM situation that might make me feel worse. My response was immediate, though: it makes me feel better. At the very least it helps me to shut my brain off, to disconnect from anything other than us, here, now, this feeling, this emotion, this release. It's so rare in my world for that to happen and I cherish it completely.

Ultimately it's about communication. Isn't it always? I am working on becoming more able to tell him what I want/need, but I'm not there yet. And he has promised to talk to me instead of assuming that he'll make it worse.

It's been hard, though. The words, "I really would like it if you'd hurt me, please," don't always come easily to my lips; not nearly as often as they beat inside my mind and heart. My inability to simply say it to him stems from fear of rejection, fear of "making him" do something he doesn't truly want to do, and fear of judgment. Do I need it too much? Too often? Too desperately?

And so I yield to his lead, which, unfortunately, puts all of the pressure on him to decide when we're going to do this. That's not a fair position to put one partner in, even a dominant partner.

So we're working on it. I'll let you know how it goes...because I miss it. I miss it so, so much.

Quest: FtM ejaculation, part 1 of ?

Side note: I was thrilled to see that one of my very favourite bloggers, Sinclair from Sugarbutch Chronicles, linked me after I recently borrowed a survey of hers. Her writing inspired me to start my own blog, so garnering her notice is very exciting for me. :)


Recently we have been discussing elements that one or the other (or both) of us would like to add to our sex life. We were outside smoking after a nice brunch when I broached my suggestion: I'd like to see if we can get him to ejaculate.

The subject came up because my deepest desire (right now) is to be fisted. We've tried. I think we've given it several really *good* tries, actually, and we get allllllmost there...and then it hurts. Not as in, huh...that's kind of uncomfortable, but as in, STOP RIGHT NOW FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, I AM BEING BUTCHERED!! We've established that it's that crucial last half-inch or so that gives me such trouble; the place where his knuckles are widest catches against my pelvic bones and we're bone-on-bone with my flesh caught in between. No amount of lube or relaxation has helped us over that spot and I think we're both kind of frustrated with it. Deep down, I fear that I am one of the women who can't be fisted due to anatomy issues. I possess, (...am blessed with, really, I think...), a very tight cunt. Generally I am very pleased with her; this is the only problem we've run into so far. But it's a problem that sticks in my mind because it's the only roadblock to something we both want badly.

However, once I let it be known that fisting me is very much on the table, he told me that fisting him was also an option. I was shocked and very excited -- again, this is something I never thought he would be ok with, so much so that it never even crossed my mind to bring it up. He'd never been fisted either, so...wow! Once again, he blew me away with the lines he was willing to cross with me.

After that talk, we let things sit for a while and I didn't bring it up for weeks. Until Thursday morning, when I was fucking him just after we woke up. Suddenly he asked for another finger. And another. And another. He took them all easily and there I was, four fingers inside him, all the way to my third knuckle, and all that was left to do was tuck my thumb under and push.

It had happened so quickly! I thought I'd have to, like...work at it for a while! I was very excited but also concerned -- I well remembered how much it had hurt me when we tried to just 'push past the pain' before, and I didn't want to do that to him. I lubed up my hand (more lube than I'd ever used, and then an extra pump for luck), slipped my fingers back inside, and found myself easily drawn in, thumb and all. My last set of knuckles rested against the entrance to his cunt and my hand was duckbilled inside him, thumb tucked under, and I was overjoyed! After some research on my own I'd found that there are a few different definitions of fisting, one of which is simply all five fingers inside the pussy or ass -- so this was certainly fisting!

I told him and he was surprised but too busy enjoying the sensations to really talk to me about it. (Sometimes I let my excitement at what we're doing overwhelm my good sense -- I'm trying to get better at that.) The thing is, what we're both after is fitting my (or his) entire hand into the relevant area, wrist-deep.

With that in mind, I gently worked my way up to the point that always stopped us on me. I felt my knuckles brush his pelvic bones and then...I held back. I couldn't pull the trigger. I felt like it could have happened if I put my shoulder into it but was worried that attempting to work my entire hand into him at first try was excessive and might hurt him. And what if I never got to try again?

So I stayed there, working my fingers as best I could inside him -- he is STRONG! -- and he came several times. It felt strange to me, though, because I didn't have the type of room inside I'm used to having while fucking him with two fingers. Which makes sense, of course, all things considered. As the fuck continued, I spaced out a bit and wondered how the hell I ever could manage to find enough space inside him to fit the rest of my hand, assuming I got it past his bones. I'm still not sure!

At any rate, we both enjoyed it. At one point I went to pull out all the way -- slowly, of course, one finger at a time -- and he sharply told me not to. Oooooh. So I stayed and fucked him until my fingers got pruney and he was exhausted. :) It was a lovely morning.

His reaction to the experience made me wonder about ejaculating, so I am on a researching journey. I haven't yet tried anything, but it's in the works. I shall report back periodically with my findings. :)

Working out the kinks in our kink

Sometimes, even in the best relationship, things don't work as planned (in bed...and elsewhere, but I specifically mean in bed right now). Last night was one of those nights.

"Little girl, get up on your knees and elbows, RIGHT NOW," he growled at me. I'd been in the fetal position with my knees tucked up underneath me, face down, my arms stretched out over my head. He'd been relentlessly rimming my ass for the better part of ten minutes.

I've never been much for ass-play. Previous lovers have tried; the idea of anal sex was titillating, so forbidden and risque. But I am a delicate girl and I am very, very tight, so it's always ended up hurting too much to continue. So I've never had anal sex. I've barely managed to take even a fingertip.

But I trust my boi implicitly, and when we decided that we were interested in trying this again, it felt like a good decision to me. There's nothing I will ever deny him. I wanted him to take my virginity this way -- it's the last that I have. I want it to be his.

And yet it's hurt before, and so I'm scared. I don't think I've made this clear enough to him, as evidenced by our miscommunication last night.

I sobbed softly, but got to my hands and knees as instructed. "Good girl, you're so open to me now," he purred and immediately penetrated me with his tongue. The feeling was so disconcerting, hard and yet soft and wet at the same time. I didn't like it. At all.

"Stop squirming or I swear to god, I will grab a handful of lube, strap on, and fuck your ass right now, don't even think for a second that I won't." He spanked me, hard, more of a slap that ended with him gripping a handful of my ass and squeezing than a true spank. I whimpered and answered him, turning my head so that my mouth was clear of the pillow I'd been hiding in. "Yes, Daddy."

I'm his little grrl. He's my Daddy.

His tongue slipped into me again. I couldn't help it; I jerked away. He wrapped both hands around my hips and yanked me back, the motion serving to press his tongue further into my ass. I yelped. It didn't feel great, that was true, but it was scaring me more than it was hurting. This time I held still.

The squirmy feeling stopped abruptly and was replaced by his fingers, stroking my anus softly. I sobbed again; this felt good and that scared me, too.

One fingertip stopped, probed gently. "I am going to shove my thumb into your ass now," he said, calmly. I gasped, dumbfounded. I knew it would be excruciating. I was not the least bit ready for something like that. "I'll count down for you: three, two..."

I couldn't help it; I jerked away. "No!" I cried into the mattress, "No." He pulled me back, repositioned his thumb.

"Three, two..." I jerked again, agitated beyond myself. "You have no fucking idea what you're doing," I sobbed. I meant it; I thought he was going to fuck me that abruptly, with that little foreplay. When we're in the moment like that, I believe everything he tells me.

The finger withdrew. "Why do you do that?" His voice was low, angry. I froze. "Why do you get so damn mouthy?" I was silent; I thought this was part of it.

He seized me around the waist and pulled me toward him, his hands rough. I balled up and covered my face with my hands. He likes to slap me across the face (and I like for him to do it) but I instinctively protect myself against it sometimes.

But he wasn't after that. He was honestly angry and I just didn't realize it. I landed in his lap and he pressed his forehead to mine, his eyes grey and stormy. "Answer me. Why do you get so damn mouthy?"

My mind raced. How do you answer a question like that? "I don't know, Daddy." It was a useless response and I knew it.

"You have to be in control, you have to know everything at all times, you have to KNOW, don't you?" He shook me for emphasis. "You need to learn to keep your damn mouth shut."

"Yes, Daddy," I muttered. I had no idea what he was talking about.

"'Yes, Daddy' what?"

What? "Yes, Daddy...?" I didn't know what he wanted me to say.

"'Yes, Daddy, I'm sorry for running my fucking mouth,'" he prompted. I started to get angry, too. I didn't realize I'd been running anything. I repeated it anyway.

"Get up." He pushed me off his lap. I knelt in the center of the bed, waiting to see what he wanted next. But he was...moving around the room, shutting off lights and turning the music off and...getting ready for bed?

I didn't understand. The room went black.

I felt shut down, thrown aside. What the hell had just happened? I lay down on my side of the bed and curled up, dismal.

"Where did you go?" His voice wasn't as angry in the dark.

"I don't understand you," I answered, dully. I've never been good at rejection.

He put his hand on my back. "What do you mean?"

We've been in love for ten years but we only got together a few months ago. Before that, neither of us had had any experience with BDSM in any capacity other than fantasy. We both wanted it, needed it, yearned for it, but never wanted to do it without the other. So the actual practice of domination and submission is new for us both and sometimes, we run into...kinks. Lately I have been having trouble submitting completely due to other shit going on in my life. He knows this and is trying to bring me back into line, but it's not been successful yet. And I don't think it's his job to get me there; it's mine. I'll get there.

So after a few fits and starts, we worked out that he had never intended on going through with fucking my ass like that. I just believe everything he tells me when we're intensely in that mindset. And my telling him that he didn't know what he was doing hurt him and made him angry, but I didn't know that his reaction wasn't just part of what we were doing in the first place. So we put measures in place for him to tell me if he was actually angry, and I promised not to say that again to him.

We're working on it. Sometimes a dom doesn't know exactly what a sub wants, fears, or feels, and sometimes a sub doesn't respond the way a dom wants or needs. But the more we do this, the better we get at reading each other, and the better the sex -- and the connection -- will be.