Sunday, April 27, 2008

Get right back on the horse

Unplugged. Disconnected. Distanced.

It was a week where many horrible and taxing events took place, and at the end of it, i not only felt myself worn down, but completely detached. From everyone - including my girl.

I experience these moments, when my body has sustained several blows, and my psyche takes even more. Fatigued from the struggle, i sometimes pull very deep inside myself. To the outside observer, i look like a shell, a mindless facsimile of my normal engaging personality. To her, it's even worse. She feeds off my energy, off our discourse and dance, off my direction. When i get like this, any attempts at re-establishing the connection feels dull, clumsy - even foreign.

But i could tell it was affecting her. More presciently, i needed her closeness and warmth. These moments serve up a very difficult predicament. I'm in dire need of repair. She instinctively intuits this and draws near to me, but because i'm three layers deep inside of myself i won't notice or respond in-kind. Drastic measures are required to pull me out.

I was fixing dinner for us, when she came into the kitchen and asked if there was anything she could do. Here, she was not asking if she could help set the table. She was asking for something much more base. Her tone, gravelly, a bit vulnerable, sent the perfect note that reached me through the walls of my inner sanctum. I looked up from my just simmering pan of onions and spices, and calmly spoke:

"Go stand at the end of the bed, and wait until i come in there."

As she retreated to the bedroom, i returned to my cooking, making the final touches before i could let it simmer for 20 minutes, unattended.

I took a long time walking our hallway that led to our pitch black bedroom. Each step, i spoke to myself, pushing me, prodding, trying to shake the heavy veil that had settled on my mind. I stood at the precipice of the bedroom, and examined the back of her body - stolid and stoic, in anticipation of my arrival.

I stepped quickly behind her and ripped off her clothes, tossing her dignified wardrobe to the floor without any concern for their well-being. I grabbed her throat from behind, and pulled my mouth to her ear.

"Don't move," i whispered.

I jumped to the side of the bed, digging in the nylon sack that lay there, finally producing the weighty bit-gag harness. I held it in front of her face where, without any urging, she parted her crimson-painted lips, opening wide her mouth. I made quick work of the half-dozen straps and buckles, tightening each with a growing awareness and warmth in my hands and fingers. I looked at her face, and already a small trail of drool had developed at the left corner of her taxed orifice.

I stood behind her, and gazed at a sight i'd seen many times before. This gorgeous, quivering ass, which was eloquently framed by the long, outstretched arms of her garters as they anchored to her thigh-high stockings, greeted me with a familiar rush of blood to my extremities. I took my hand and slapped it, like a match head, across the flint of her velvety peach flesh. A spark ignited, lighting a flame inside of me.

I slapped her ass. I swatted it. I smacked it with the full meat of my palm. My rigid hand slammed into it repeatedly, over and over, firing multiple shots against her rotund rump in all different directions. I didn't stop, not even for a chance for me to catch my breath. I just continued to lay into her backside. Finally, she reached a boiling point, spilling over with the absorbed energy displaced into her flesh. She stomped and kicked militantly into the wooden floor, spitting and loudly grunting through the gag vicing her mouth open. I stood back and watched this creature expel a week's worth of disgruntlement and pain.

I became suddenly apparent of the stiff erection stretching out my suit pants. I quickly stripped to the nude. Wrapping my hands on each side of her hips, i held them completely still, positioning her. Then, without any thought or question, i entered her from behind. My free right hand reached forward, grabbing a hold of her ebony mane, pulling her head back towards me.

Then, silently and thoroughly, i fucked her.

7 comments:

Anonymous said...

Deity:

I hope you feel better now. This was delicious. Did you devour your dinner too?

Rob

m said...

your writing and trail of thought are both so beautifully intoxicating...

xx, m

Deity said...

Rob,
I'm feeling great. What i don't mention is that this happened a few weeks ago. Thankfully, an upcoming extended break is the reward for all of that stress.

I'm very glad the expression of this episode served as a tasty morsel.

m,
mind you don't operate any machinery while under the influence.

KinkeeGurlee said...

Very delicious entry...

Mina said...

interesting. As a submissive I find myself at this exact place. Completely displaced and unsettled and needing a way to embrace the submissiveness once more... this spoke to me.

sub lyn said...

My Master's reaction to stress is sometimes the same, and i struggle to know how to help Him. This post really resonated with me. Thank you.

Deity said...

kinkeegurlee,
i was thoroughly satiated that evening.

mina,
i like how you were able to see your own struggles in mine. this speaks to the similarities in issues the two sides of an exchange grapple with, but we address them through the different definitions of our roles.

sl,
my advice to you would be to open yourself to the possibility that not all of that is your responsibility. in those moments when i do struggle, i know that i have an obligation to my girl not to let her flagging too long - that is something that comes with wanting to play this role in her life.

i have chosen to be her anchor, her pillar. it is not her role to find a way to root me back into the ground.