We had a really BIG weekend. Two of my best girlfriends came in town to visit, bringing their partner’s with them, and the six of us went out for a fancy dinner, drinks, dancing and other debauchery. I’ve been friends with these girls for almost thirty years. They are the friends that know everything, all the dirty, funny, weird dark secrets from early childhood to adulthood. But, they didn’t know everything. I hadn’t told them about D/s, and rope, and kink, and BDSM. I hadn’t told them that there are ten or so implements hiding under our bed that leave marks on my body, that I stare in the mirror and my pussy gets wet when I recall the memories of how those marks were made. They didn’t know that I sometimes call my husband Sir and that I ask permission for things that most people do without even thinking. They didn’t know that he ties me up in rope and pushes me and my body to do things that don’t seem physically possible. Well, they didn’t. Now they do!
Fueled by wine and excitement, I spilled my guts out to them, my husband by my side, encouraging and adding comments here and there. She hasn’t been able to talk about this to anyone and it’s been so hard for her. It went well, they loved the photos I showed them, they didn’t understand D/s at all, and they casually waved away the marks I showed them. No big deal! You do you! Deep down I knew it would go like that. We have been so close for so long that it doesn’t matter what we do, as long as we are happy. It felt good though! And, now I’m out with it, they know about my blog, and if they want to know more, they will ask. So, Friday night was BIG. And then it got bigger.
It was late when we got home, but he and I were no where nearly ready for bed. He ordered me to kneel on the coffee table, and he tested out his new homemade whip. It was extraordinarily good, a stingy torture device made with leather shoe laces that left spidery red traces across my back and hips, like branching rivers on a map. I sunk deep into subspace, not speaking except to mumble incoherent responses to his checks, the pain radiated like a soft glow throughout my body. We kept it up for a couple of hours, playing, touching, kissing, talking, until we were both finally exhausted and crawled into bed. We had anticipated a fun and eventful Friday night so we purposefully didn’t have anything scheduled for Saturday, and that was lovely. Just naps and movies all day. And pizza.
Sunday afternoon, we were back at it again. A short but intense session with the cane and some forced orgasms left me groggy but utterly happy, and we settled in for a lazy evening with home made white bean chili and some mindless TV. Even though we went through our usual aftercare routine, I knew that Monday would come with some drop. I was prepared for it, but it’s still not fun to feel so down after having such an amazing weekend.
Monday morning, he gave me a hug before leaving for work, grabbing me by the shoulders, looking me in the eyes and asking if I was alright. Yeah, I’m fine, just gloomy. When I got a text from him an hour later, my spirits lifted immediately.
After some clarification on the assignment, I got straight to work. I typed out my letters as my eyes overflowed with tears (thanks subdrop), but the process was cathartic. To be given the green light to put my needs down on paper, to be able to be completely open, to be able to use my words without having to speak them, and to have something written that I can refer back to when I need a reminder is exactly what I needed. He knew that I would need this, and he knew exactly how to orchestrate it. He’s so right on cue sometimes it’s scary. He knew that I had dark feelings whirling and bubbling inside my head, and that if I didn’t have an outlet for them, they could bubble over and make more trouble than necessary.
I sat at our dining room table in front of a toasty fire and typed out my feelings, cried out my negative thoughts, and when I was done, I was weightless once again. It’s not that I can’t come to him with my feelings, or wants or needs, it’s the fact that he requested it, pulled it out of me when I was feeling dark. He tapped into the kind of person I am and found a creative way for me to overcome my gloom and open a line of communication to better our relationship and solidify our D/s. Maintenance is required for any relationship, but it doesn’t always have to come in the same package. Sometimes, there is a need to find creative ways to keep communication open and positive.
I saved the letters in a spot on my computer that I can easily access, and this morning, I sat down and re-read the letter I wrote to myself. It’s filled with advice to keep my mind positive, to keep me heading in the right direction. It warns me about negative thoughts that knock me off track. Reading it again, it amazes me that I was able to articulate these needs so well, especially in a foggy mindset. It’s not always easy to pinpoint the small but significant bad habits we carry around every day. Now I’ve got them written down, and I will try hard not to forget them!