The real-life adventures of a girl who is willing to try just about anything.

submission

Epic Weekend: 6 Months Later

[This is a follow-up post to the tale of my Epic Weekend. Click here for part onepart twothe finale, and Aftermath.]


It has now been about 6 months since my wonderful, Epic Weekend. Six months since he broke me, before my closest friends and perfect strangers alike. I thought that perhaps you would want an update on the situation.

The two-hour drive home on Monday was fairly intense, and not only because every time I shifted in my seat, I was reminded of the bruises that covered my ass. My mind was churning with the myriad possibilities that could go along with this new change in our relationship dynamic.

I was beside myself with excitement. I felt like a whole new world had opened up for us. While I am truly naturally dominant, a part of me has always yearned to be submissive. I like to care for and spoil my loves, do whatever I can to make them happy. Until such point as it is expected. Then it becomes a problem for me. It is said that true submission is a gift and that’s how I feel about it. I will give it freely (when deserved and inspired), but once it is demanded I have none to give.

Very few people in my life have ever inspired me to want to submit to them. I’m not very good at relinquishing that sort of control. I need someone who wants to take control and can handle it once he/she has it. I need to feel loved and appreciated in my service. And I don’t ever want to be thought of as inferior or beneath someone. It has to be someone who loves and respects me as an equal even though I choose to submit myself. That may seem like a tall order, but I know that it exists. I’ve seen it in action and I’ve been party to it.

Before the events of the prior week and including the time just after he met our Diva, Roland had not expressed any interest in BDSM. He knew of my history, my avid interest in getting involved in the lifestyle again, and supported me in it, but he professed to not have any desire for it himself. In fact, he was quite adamant about his disinterest.

But one day he had an epiphany that his attitude toward it were due to feelings tied to a previous relationship where they had briefly dabbled in the lifestyle (at his ex’s request). Having that realization wrought a change in his feelings about it and he opened himself up to the possibilities.

All of that combined to form the perfect storm on the night of our first visit to the Woodshed. Everything fell into place.

So on the drive home, we did a lot of talking. He expressed a lot of uncertainty about how far he wanted to go. I explained that I was fully willing to go as far as he wanted to, up to and including 24/7 total power exchange (TPE). In my mind I was rapidly going through all the different ways in which I could give up control to him. I kept throwing out ideas for the rules and restrictions he could place on me, things to give me structure and discipline. The littlest details made me giddy, like the thought of sitting at his feet with the other subs at the munches. I think I actually squealed with delight thinking about it.

Looking back, I think I might have completely blown his mind and overwhelmed him. Here I was, someone who’d already had experience in this area despite having been dormant for so long, feeling like I had awoken from a deep sleep, ready to jump back into life again. And there he was, having essentially just opened a door to a practically new, unknown plane of existence. He just wasn’t ready for everything I was so eager to do.

What we, or rather what I, decided to do was to just try to behave as if our relationship was TPE. I would give myself rules and restrictions, things that I felt would please him. I felt that this would give him an idea of what it would be like, without him actually having to take control and figure out what he wanted me to do. I thought it might be the easiest way to show him what it would be like.

One of the things I started doing in the first week after our trip was going to bed when he did at night, instead of staying up online for an hour or three after he’d gone to bed. I would undress him from head to toe, starting with his shoes and finishing with his underwear. Once he was naked I would kneel before him to suck his cock. Then he would fuck me on the bed in whatever position he chose, and go to sleep afterwards.

I tried to wait on him hand and foot, pouting whenever he got something for himself. I let him make all the decisions about any plans. I didn’t talk back to him or verbally spar with him as I am wont to do. I called him Sir. Whenever I got home before he did, I greeted him at the door in prostrate position.

All of that lasted for less than two weeks. He just was not comfortable with it. He said that he was used to doing things for himself. He also said he didn’t want to get used to any of it, because he felt like at any moment I would decide that I didn’t want to do it anymore. He didn’t want to try to assume control in anything, because he expected that at some point I would rebel. He couldn’t get invested because he knew I am not truly submissive.

And as much as I would like for it to be otherwise, he’s right. To me, it’s a nice idea, but I just can’t do it all the time. I am a very willful creature. And moody. I can never be any one thing all the time. I can play at submission for a time, but it just doesn’t stick. It doesn’t come natural to me at all. Despite how much I love him and want to make him happy. How much I think I would enjoy his will being my own.

See, the first thing that got me interested in BDSM was the Sleeping Beauty trilogy by Anne Rice, closely followed by Exit to Eden (the book, not the atrocious movie adaptation). The idea of forced submission that I would eventually abandon myself to was my supreme fantasy. I longed for a Castle or Village or Eden island resort where I would have no choice but to submit to the will of someone else. Essentially a world that does not and cannot exist at this time.

Where are we now, you might ask? Well, I submit myself to him on the infrequent occasions when he tells me he wants it, in whatever fashion he chooses. It may be that he explicitly tells me. Or he grabs me by the hair at the nape of my neck to direct me. Sometimes he just gives me a look or changes the tone of his voice. And then I do my best to give him the gift of my submission. I don’t fight it, I allow him to take it in his own way. For now, that’s how it works for us.

Epic weekend: Aftermath

[This is a follow-up post to the tale of my Epic Weekend. Click here for part one, part two and part three.]

Although it’s been a while, the tale of my Epic Weekend didn’t end at the Woodshed. What happened afterward was just as important. So now let’s slip comfortably back into that weekend, starting with the limo ride back to the hotel…

What a night it had been. I was buzzing with endorphins, my head was firmly rooted in the clouds, and the cheeks of my face would likely ache as much as the cheeks of my ass, only from smiling. In the back of the limo on the way back to the hotel, I was completely melted against Roland. Although we had a full load of 5 other people, for the ride back to the hotel nobody existed but he and I.
We had the limo driver stop at IHOP on the way back to the hotel so we could get some breakfast to go. I was in no shape to to be seen in public, or even walk really, as I was barely more than a puddle of goo. Roland went in with the others to order food and I stayed curled up in the back of the limo, smiling and sighing contentedly to myself. It took about 15 minutes for the orders to be ready and then we were on our way again.
Upon our arrival back at the hotel and before eating, I went into the master bedroom that Roland and I were sharing to turn on the water to fill the huge, pillared jacuzzi tub. There really wasn’t a whole lot of conversation while we each ate our breakfasts, at least not that I remembered. All I remember is being warm and fuzzy and floaty. And giggly. So very giggly.

By the time we finished eating, the tub was full of steaming-hot water. Roland and I excused ourselves to the bedroom and closed the door. The weekend was originally intended to be one filled with group debauchery. However, partially as a result of the unsexy news I got on the Friday before the trip and mostly because of how close I was feeling to Roland right at that moment, we spent the rest of our time that night alone.

I truly felt like a queen in this room.

He and I didn’t have much need for words at the time. We each undressed and slowly slipped into the inviting water of the tub. Of course, I could only sit very gingerly on the bottom. The hot water reignited the fire in my cheeks and made it difficult to sit in the tub at all. However, the encompassing warmth was worth any suffering.

While I washed the makeup from my face, Roland massaged my shoulders. After my face was clean, I let myself fall back against him and his arms wrapped around me. We sat like that but for a few moments before drowsiness threatened to overtake us. The hot water was just so very relaxing.

Roland broke the spell first, reaching over me to get my shower poof, loading it with peppermint soap, and then scrubbing my back and shoulders with it. He washed each of my arms in turn. Next he methodically worked the poof over my chest and breasts while still sitting behind me. When he finished, he gently nudged me forward so that he could stand, taking my hand to signal that I should stand as well. He washed the rest of my body in a thorough manner, paying careful attention to my sore behind. He put his hand on my shoulder, applied light pressure to let me know I should sit, and then he washed himself.

Once we were both clean and rinsed, Roland again took my hand and stood, pulling me up with him. Still holding my hand, he stepped out of the tub and helped me out as well. He grabbed a nearby towel and used to it to dry me off before drying himself. He stepped forward and kissed me while leading me a few steps to the bed.

I broke our kiss and spoke for the first time. I asked if he would make love to me. That sounds cheesy, I know. But generally, our sex tends to be very rigorous and sometimes rough. What I wanted that night was for him to be slow and sweet and I told him so. He agreed and lowered me to the bed.

He took his time kissing me all over my body and trailing his fingertips over every square inch of my skin. I sighed, gasped, moaned, and whimpered. My whole body was awake and tingling. Finally after an unknown length of time, he moved between my legs and slid his cock into my pussy. We moved against each other, matching rhythm, with my legs wrapped around his waist and our lips locked together.

I had been playing with clit and was getting close to orgasm. He had pulled away from our kiss, standing up on his knees and I could see by his expression that he was close as well. Looking into his eyes, I made another request, “When we cum, will you tell me that I belong to you? That you love me? And say my name?” He looked a little confused and asked me if I did not already know. I replied that I just wanted to hear him say it.

Less than a minute later, the moment had arrived. As he thrust harder and faster, he looked into my eyes and said to me, “Did you not know… that even before tonight… even before the ‘Shed… you have always belonged to me. You are mine. I love you, Tonya.” As soon as the words were said, I burst into tears and we both exploded. There is no question that it was the biggest, best, and longest orgasm I have ever had in my life. My whole body quaked and shaked and the trembling afterward seemed to last forever. He collapse into my arms and for one of the few times in our history, we fell asleep almost immediately, entangled in each other’s arms.

The next morning (which was only a few hours later, actually, as the sun was just rising when we went to sleep) we were still wrapped around each other and I’ve never felt so close to him. We could hear the others moving about and packing up to go. Roland and I were going to be staying for another day, but everyone else had to return home that afternoon.

We went for a late breakfast/early lunch with everyone. All during the meal, I was in a state to which I am completely unaccustomed: I was giggly and blushy and bashful. I was practically Velcroed to Roland’s side. I felt like a young girl in love for the first time. Jane and Lucy had both known me for about a decade and neither had ever seen me behave anything remotely close to that. Everyone teased me incessantly, even our waittress, but all I could do was giggle and bury my face in Roland’s shoulder.

After we parted ways with the rest of the group, we went grocery shopping to get stuff for dinner because we planned to spend the rest of the afternoon and evening curled up watching movies in the room. It was just a quiet, relaxing time spent luxuriating in the newfound closeness in our relationship. As we didn’t get a lot of sleep the night before, we went to bed around 10pm, but not before making love once more.

It was the best ending for the best, most epic weekend of my life.

[Please, follow along as I tell you about what life is like for us 6 months after that weekend.]

Sinful Sunday – Greeting him

In my excitement over sharing last week’s blade play, I completely forgot that I did actually get a couple of pics post-Shed. I remembered last night when I once again assumed the position…
It was very late when we returned to my friends’ house after visiting the Woodshed and stopping for breakfast, around 5am. We immediately retired to the guest bedroom. Roland needed to use the restroom before bed and while he was out, I stripped down to only my thigh-high stockings. I greeted him at the door in my usual prostrate form form.

He closed the door, and slowly walked around me while surveying my submissive form. Once behind me, he reached down and smoothly rubbed his hand across my still-tender ass, inspecting the marks he left there only a few hours ago. He traced his fingers up and down my spine. Then he reached down to gently prod my exposed pussy with his fingertips. I knew before he got there what he would find, as I could feel the wetness dripping from between my lips.
He stood once more and walked around to stop with his shoes at my face. I lifted my head and sweetly kissed the upper of each shoe. I began to rise, but he placed his palm between my shoulder blades to let me know that I should stay as I was. I returned my face to the carpet and excitedly awaited the sound I knew would come next: the opening of his belt and zipper.
He spread my feet widely apart so that he could kneel between them. He leaned forward and then his magnificent cock was piercing me. I gasped and subsequently moaned as I almost always do each time. When he fucks me in that position, he penetrates me deeper than in any other. It was all I could do not to cry out each time he thrust hard into me.
Since it was late, our night had been so hot already, and the fact that we were on the floor at my friends’ house trying to be quiet, he only fucked me for a few minutes before he came. 
Being claimed and filled with his cum like that was a perfect ending to a perfect night.

Posted in participation with Sinful Sunday, hosted by Molly’s Daily Kiss.

Click below to see who else bowing down to the one who is served this Sunday.
 

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