It’s been a while since I made my Choose Your Own Fuckventure part one post.
I did intend to get straight on to writing part two. The first part was one of the fastest things I’ve written. It just ran away by itself with me chasing hard on its heels, trying to get it down before my characters got too far ahead of me.
I wrote the dom point of view first, because I knew it would be easier to write myself into the submissive part. And of course, you know me well enough to know how much more I’d enjoy the writing of that side of it anyway.
But when I actually sat down to it, I felt vulnerable in a very real and basic way. Too vulnerable to be able to face writing it. And I had to explore that. Because let’s be honest here, I have had no qualms at all debasing myself, with a pure straight-up telling of some of the seediest parts of my sexual experience in the past.
So, why did this feel different?
A lot has changed for us over the last half year. Well, year really. We both did courses at work and got promotions. We’re working longer hours than before. Our threesome-ness took a bad knock when our long-time third left us. And then of course, there was the excitement of the new him.
So, What Happened to Our New Him?
A little while ago, I wrote about a new guy we had met up with. We had been talking to him online for a while before we decided to meet. On the day we met, we had all agreed beforehand that nothing would happen.
If you read the blog, you know I blew up that agreement, and got thoroughly, and spectacularly dominated.
It felt so new. Different. Fragile, but also so very lovely. I planned to write up some more of our encounters, but clearly I haven’t. Well, there is of course a reason for that.
We decided not to continue seeing each other as a threesome.
I won’t go into the ins and outs of it all, I’ll just say it was one hundred percent amicable, as these things go. Ships in the night and all that.
Funny, when I wrote those two blogs, I was so full of hope that we would last longer. That we’d found our new long-time third. Ironically, it was about two weeks after I released the one describing our first time that we broke up.
He knows I am writing this blog, of course. And, gentleman that he is, he still says I may write about our encounters if I want to. He says he gets a kick out of how I portray him, that I make him larger than life, and according to himself, far more beautiful.
I suppose that’s the difference between self-perception, and how another might see you through the lens of their own perceptions, their own filters, and how they store this in their emotional memory, the things that truly matter to them about that person.
We really enjoyed our time together. Like, immensely. Me especially.
Killer Confidence
This incredibly gentle person with this ironlike dominance. Uff, I’m getting hot just thinking about it. Not about anything in particular that he did, but rather those traits in him. That combination. Ultimate, gentle respect, and steadiness, and complete killer confidence. Oh, how my submissive self wanted to please him. You know me, you know how much joy I get in pleasing my partners. How hot, how horny it makes me. He pressed all of my buttons with such precision.
Oh god, and the way he had of pushing me, of daring me with just a few words, a gesture. From our very first encounter, I had wanted to try him. And he gave me many chances, he dangled that carrot for me so bloody well. Each time I took the joyful submissive path, and was rewarded. Each chance he gave me to try him, made the forbidden fruit of disobedience so much more desirable.
He made me want it, badly. Made me want to challenge his tightly controlled danger, just to see how it would play out for me.
Anything in particular he did? Hah joke’s on me now. Mmmhhh.
Without going into too many details here, something that happened when we met for the third time is clanging a klaxon into the horn-receptors of my brain right now. Uff.
Hot Memory
As usual, I was naked. He wasn’t. In fact he was still fully dressed. I’d done something “bad”, deliberately, doesn’t matter what, and he was going to punish me for it. God, I was so horny, and so high, some kind of crackpot-fatalism running around in my brain. And of course I had wanted to. Like I said, right since he first dominated me, I had wanted to push his limits and see where it would take me.
So yeah, there I was bent over his knee. Not on the sofa, on one of our aptly named swinger chairs, hands on the floor to help me keep my balance. Uhh, feeling the material of his trousers against my nudity, my naked arse perfectly presented. His hand pressing down against the small of my back. Not hard though, it felt as though I could just stand up if I wanted to. And he was being patient with me, despite the fact I’d deliberately pushed him. Still so polite, so considerate.
“Traust du dich?” he asked my arse in his quiet, gentlemanly way.
A double-edged question. Was I ready, was I brave enough? Did I dare?
It was the way he said it, so calm, so patient. I don’t know. Maybe it lulled me into a false sense of security. Or maybe I knew all along what would happen when I provoked him further. But like I said, there was this fatalism riding high in me right then, and it would not be pushed down.
It also made me feel my position in that moment, my deliciously degraded vulnerability. And oh, my extreme horniness. My need to feel him dominate me.
My uncontrollable fucking desire to eat whatever humble pie he would offer me to make it up to him, when he was done punishing me.
My mouth ran off something stupid. Can’t remember what exactly, but it was very bratty.
His hand came down then, the crack loud in the room, the pain immediate and really quite severe. Much more than I had expected, considering all that gentle politeness he’d been emanating. He is a powerful man, I can’t begin to tell you how much that single spank hurt.
I became completely still. The colour in the room sharpened and my arse began to sing.
“Ich frag dich gleich noch einmal,” he told my arse. Giving me time to consider, giving me one last lifeline to have an easier time of it.
But you know me, fatalism and all that…
And the humble pie that came after was truly, oh god, deliciously humiliating.
Vulnerability
Anyway, I digress. We feel very lucky and grateful to have walked a little of our way with him. It’s been such a pleasure, for me especially.
And I wonder if this is partly why I’ve been hesitant about getting on with thoroughly debasing myself. Again.
Because let’s face it, we all know I want to, don’t we?
I suspect it’s just harder to write about degrading myself in a thoroughly degrading manner, and in a titillating way which I hope particularly titillates you, dear reader, when I’m confounded by inconvenient feelings of vulnerability.
Generally speaking, I’m not good with change, unless I am.
So yeah, part two is coming. Watch this space as they say.