The Ecstacy of the Agony

For the summer, Dr. Faust has been living and working at his ancestral home, which is about 2.5 hours away. He's driven up to spend the weekend together several times. Three weeks ago, he had a BIG family event to go to and couldn't make it. Two weeks ago, I went to his ancestral home and met his family. I won't talk about his family here except to say that they are very nice people, much nicer than the families of any of my previous long-term partners.

Obviously, kinky fun was not something we would be doing at his ancestral home. And last weekend, Dr. Faust had to stay there to fix his car. Therefore it has been FOUR WEEKS since we were able to actually play.

FOUR WEEKS.

Though he gave me permission to gratify myself once before I went to visit, the urges have become truly intense. He'll be here tomorrow.

Tomorrow. HUGE SIGH.

I'm not sure anticipation can even cover it. I am filled with a powerful, urgent need and can barely concentrate on anything else.

When he arrives tomorrow, I will be waiting on my knees by the door. I'll be dressed to please him and wearing my cuffs. I will have my playtime collar, with the tag that labels me as his "play slut" at hand in case he wants to put it on me right away. My second bedroom is currently empty and so I'll have it ready to use as a play room. Nothing too elaborate, as we don't own anything at that level. I'll have a chair and a table. Like an interrogation room. He can tie me to the chair if he wants and use me.

Waiting for it is so deliciously painful. Not unlike actually playing itself. And being his, all the time, makes it even worse/better. The harder it is to wait, the more delicious it becomes, and the more exciting the eventual release will surely be.

I love to feel his dominance over me. Even when it's difficult to obey, even when I feel uppity and bratty and I'm doubting my ability to submit, it turns me on. The more he requires, the more he clearly wants my obedience and submission, the hotter it is. This is something I have come to understand about myself. I realized it, not surprisingly, while watching my television boyfriend, Dr. Greg House. I've always been into dominant men. Wolverine, The Goblin King, that guy in college. Having crushes on professors, as I've done a few times, stems mostly from their authority over me. I used to joke, even, that I went into grad school mainly because I have a professor fetish. Drum majors. Mr. Rochester, for you Bronte readers. Heck, I was always way more into Scully than Mulder, because she's clearly more badass. Women don't excite this need as much as men do, but she's an exception. It's the red hair.

So, for all my hand-wringing and obsessing over the limits of this lifestyle and how we, as a social group unto ourselves, negotiate them (see previous post), it is an immutable fact. I need to be taken, and owned, and used by a Dominant partner. It can be tough sometimes for me to see myself as a submissive. I fret over the characteristics of other subs and don't much want to share some of them. Still, I gladly and willingly submit, because it meets this need. And it turns me on. And I enjoy it. But the fact that it fulfills me in this way ensures that even in those rare instances where it's not so enjoyable, I will gladly make the effort.

Oh yeah, and I want to please him. Of course I want to please him. That part barely even feels kinky to me. It just comes naturally. Sometimes there's so much I want to do for him that I'm not sure I'm able to do it all. But it doesn't worry me. He's not tough to please. He is truly a very loving Dominant, just as committed to treating me kindly and sweetly as he is to making me his obedient, horny, nasty play slut. Is it any wonder I'm crazy for this guy?