Disclaimer: This post mentions topics involving sexual activity and consensual sexual violence. Not suitable for individuals under eighteen years of age. Reader discretion is advised.
“Please” is always a good place to start, especially in the bedroom.
I had to idea how tonight’s post was going to go, to be honest, it’s been an eventful few days, but we’ll get down to all of that another time. For now, it’s time for “Please”, the post that I was more or less instructed to write.
It all started on Saturday morning after Matt’s shower. As he headed back for the bedroom, I was quick to follow him.
“Right, time to defile Daddy” I joked, “it’s only fair!”
To be honest, I was only joking. I was being affectionate too, but more to be clear that I wasn’t actually going to defile him. Even if I said I was, I wasn’t.
That was, at least until sex was very much on the table.
“Please?” I whispered, his fingers wrapped in my hair as he held himself away from me.
“Please, Sir” I tried again, my voice full of unadulterated desire. Please, you bastard! I said please!
Matt has noticed a few things with me when I suck cock, none of them lady-like, and none of them indicative of a truly alpha female. Firstly, I raise my ass and swivel my hips like a cat ready to pounce on its prey. Secondly, I let out a deeply contented and instinctive sigh and third, I get ridiculously turned on. For whatever reason and overall, I’m seldom happier than when my husband is balls deep in my throat.
“I think I know what I’m going to call Monday’s post” I quipped, wiping a trace of saliva from my my lower lip.
“‘Please'” I joked.
“Good, don’t you fucking forget it” he growled. The bastard!
“Please” became the word of the day, and each thrust was powered by my utterance of the word. No “please”? No pleasure. I wanted to hate him, but I loved him at the same time. My mind swirled with thoughts and sensations and not one was I allowed to keep to myself. When he’s good, he’s really, really fucking good!
Shortly after work today, Matt joined me in the lounge.
“When shall I order pizza?” he asked. Pizza? What do we need pizza for? It’s Sri Lankan chicken curry night! He doesn’t mean…?
In this household, Post-Sex Pizza is, shamefully, a thing. We have a go-to place, a go to order. Everything.
“What do we need pizza for? You’re cooking curry” I teased.
“I mean unless you want to order pizza, then I won’t stop you. ‘Please’ Vol. 2, perhaps?” I smirked, tracing kisses along his hip again.
“Why, what do you you want?” he asked, his fingers in my hair once more.
I looked up from my position and met his gaze. “Please?” I whispered.
“Please can I suck your cock” I whispered again. Come on! Surely that has to do?
“Who are you asking?”
“Oh for the love of… Please can I suck your cock, Sir?”
“Louder, so that I can hear you, and look at me when you say it.”
Seriously? Who even is this man?!
“Did we just…?” I asked, listening to the rain and the rolling thunder outside. I fought the duvet up over myself with what strength that I could possibly muster, post-orgasm.
“Yep” came the now-much-more-gentlemanly reply.
“That’s kinda hot.”
I curled against his chest as I listened to the rain and the thunder outside. I don’t like thunderstorms, and yet here, I at least didn’t mind thunderstorms so much. I felt safe, I felt loved, I felt at peace, and for me, that made everything okay.
The tears prickled and threatened to fall, just like the raindrops at the window. At the end of the day, BDSM is just a game, it’s all one great big, filthy, fun, adult game. Those who we serve and those whom we protect are not just connected to us by pure luck. The are connected by trust, love, respect, connection, friendship, interests and more. On the surface, BDSM can look so very dark and depraved and yet, in spite of tha outward appearance is a connection that runs much, much deeper.