It was subtle shift, a change from feeling the craving to be dominated by someone stronger than her, to an almost tender need to just melt into submission. No one else would have noticed, but she could tell the difference.
She felt it when her knees started to quiver, when her eyesight gently moved out of focus, when everything in the room melted away and the sole reason she was even continuing to breathe was the connection between the two of them.
It confused her too. It wasn't completely welcome, she had to admit. Neither this need to submit or the feelings that accompanied it. It had never been in her plans, not to this degree. Sometimes its very intensity terrified her.
She talked to other subs, many of whom marvelled at her ability to almost instantly free fall into subspace, a journey that often took them hours of pain and bondage to achieve.
She had even surprised herself.
Thursday 21 October 2010
Friday 15 October 2010
Her Shadow Self
She can't see her
but she knows she's wide eyed.
She can't touch her
but she knows she can sense
his every touch
More often now before he has even made contact.
She doesn't need to listen
as she can hear her whispering, planting seeds
how easy it would be
To lose herself in her submission
To let it overwhelm her
To never come back
She's drawn to vibrancy, to colour and texture.
She's drawn to his vibrancy, the colour of his thoughts, the texture of his language, his skin, his lips upon hers.
But there are moments when the fear descends
and she glimpses
how all too easily she could lose all this
How she could just let the other one take over
And find herself the shadow in her place.
but she knows she's wide eyed.
She can't touch her
but she knows she can sense
his every touch
More often now before he has even made contact.
She doesn't need to listen
as she can hear her whispering, planting seeds
how easy it would be
To lose herself in her submission
To let it overwhelm her
To never come back
She's drawn to vibrancy, to colour and texture.
She's drawn to his vibrancy, the colour of his thoughts, the texture of his language, his skin, his lips upon hers.
But there are moments when the fear descends
and she glimpses
how all too easily she could lose all this
How she could just let the other one take over
And find herself the shadow in her place.
Thursday 14 October 2010
Day Trip
She slips the collar into her bag. It nestles between her travelcard and purse; she feels its presence the whole journey. She waits until the moment is right, when they are alone and the cries of seagulls and gentle swoosh of the waves fills her ears. She had wondered, had even fantasied how wearing it outside might feel, far away from the fake lighting and enclosed cage of a hotel room. She wants to wear it in the real world. She has thought about it so much.
She shows it him, lifting it from her bag and placing it gently on her knee. She is nervous. She knows this is what some subs would call topping from the bottom, that he might not like the idea, that he might think it was he, not she, that should decide when and when not she can wear her collar.
And yet....and yet...she hopes he will understand the need she has inside. A need not only to wear her collar in broad daylight, but to wear the collar with him outside, away from the shadows and shame and out in the open.
The pebbles mould themselves to her body. She moulds herself to his. In turn, he moulds the collar around her neck, clips it together at the back of her throat, and sits back and watches whilst the waves of an orgasm shuddering through her put to shame the gentle lapping of the waves behind.
She catches her breath as the sea recedes. She hears thousands of sherbet pebbles popping, her own ragged breath, and the distant shouts of workmen as they busy themselves on scaffolding around a house behind them. She can smell the salt of the sea, taste it on her lips and the hair that the wind blows around her nose and into her mouth. It mingles with the leather scent of her collar that she knows has sent her nostrils flaring.
Eventually, he removes the collar and, taking her by the hand, helps her climb the banked up stones. As their feet slide and sink in the pebbles, it gives the impression of the earth shifting beneath. It is a gentle reminder that, however much she might hand him control, and however eager and gratified he might be to take it, in the end, neither of them really have it.
She shows it him, lifting it from her bag and placing it gently on her knee. She is nervous. She knows this is what some subs would call topping from the bottom, that he might not like the idea, that he might think it was he, not she, that should decide when and when not she can wear her collar.
And yet....and yet...she hopes he will understand the need she has inside. A need not only to wear her collar in broad daylight, but to wear the collar with him outside, away from the shadows and shame and out in the open.
The pebbles mould themselves to her body. She moulds herself to his. In turn, he moulds the collar around her neck, clips it together at the back of her throat, and sits back and watches whilst the waves of an orgasm shuddering through her put to shame the gentle lapping of the waves behind.
She catches her breath as the sea recedes. She hears thousands of sherbet pebbles popping, her own ragged breath, and the distant shouts of workmen as they busy themselves on scaffolding around a house behind them. She can smell the salt of the sea, taste it on her lips and the hair that the wind blows around her nose and into her mouth. It mingles with the leather scent of her collar that she knows has sent her nostrils flaring.
Eventually, he removes the collar and, taking her by the hand, helps her climb the banked up stones. As their feet slide and sink in the pebbles, it gives the impression of the earth shifting beneath. It is a gentle reminder that, however much she might hand him control, and however eager and gratified he might be to take it, in the end, neither of them really have it.
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