Wednesday, September 19, 2012

It really is the thought that counts

The day before had been one of those days where everything that could go wrong, did go wrong.  How I managed to survive it was nothing short of a miracle, but everyone was finally home and in one piece.   I ended up taking the day off just to deal with the fallout and to let myself properly deal with the stresses.  

 I was up at the butt crack of dawn to get the kids to school, and on my way home I began the debate of whether or not to crawl back into bed and hide from the world.  Nothing bad ever happens in bed! Upon arriving home, I noticed my boy’s car still in the drive way.  So instead of heading straight for bed, I decided to peek out in the garage and spend a little quality time with him before he ran off.  
Much to my surprise, I found my boy standing bare ass naked, spread eagle, with hands on the workbench.  After further inspection, I discovered a chair full of impact toys next to him.  His sheepish face began to smile when I finally turned my face back at him.  Try as I might, I just couldn’t hide the grin forming on my face either.  I regained my composure, but the silliness had already crept it’s way in

“What’s all THIS about?” I ask, waving my hand around, in a voice as sternly as I could muster.

“I needed to cum, Mama”, he mumbled really quick, “and you had such a bad day yesterday, I thought you might enjoy taking your frustrations out on me”

Did you catch that?  Yeah, that first part.  That “I need to cum” part.  You did? Me too.

It’s moments like these I have to giggle at the thought process that runs through my head.  I actually think to myself… “Yeah a proper Domme would probably get mad that he tried so hard to disguise a plea to cum with a cover like being so thoughtful about my bad day.  She’d probably get so upset that he would be so bold and not let him cum at all. Then she’d probably beat him so hard that he’d never dare that one again.  Mmmmm beat him so hard.  I sure could use the outlet that giving him a beating would afford me.  I am so stressed and tense, and it’s such a nice release of aggression for me. Yes, me want beatings.”

My hand had absently wandered down his back and began molesting his butt cheek.  

“But should I let him cum?  It really was such a cheeky move on his part.  He could have done a better job of hiding the fact he was sneaking his own agenda in this whole equation. “
I sneak my hand between his legs, teasing his ass along the way, till I’ve gotten a good grip on his cock and balls.  I begin teasing him about his need to cum.

“But I do enjoy teasing him to death, and he takes beatings so much better when he’s riled up.  Plus its so fun to watch the way he gets so spastic when he cums after so much teasing.  It makes me giggle.  Giggling makes me feel better.  Beatings make me feel better.  Oh, fuck the proper Domme shit…I’m gonna have me some FUN!!!  Wheeeee!”

So I proceeded to beat him, tease him, talk dirty to him, even (to his surprise) threw in some ass play to cap it all off with.  And he came.  He came hard.  So hard I giggled.  And I walked away feeling relaxed, calm, ready to face the tidal wave of the day I was about to have to have.  

This is why I know my boy was made for me.  Any books, stories or threads I read always seems to deal with sexual denial, sexual control (along with all the other stuff).  I don’t want any of that.  I want sexual abandonment.  I would let him cum 5 times a day, if he was capable and we had that kind of time.  He understands this.  He knows, it’s a pretty safe bet, that if he initiates play or sex of some kind, I’m going to happily go along (and very quickly take over!).  So when it comes to times like this, I’m not inclined to get upset, but it’s not that I don’t care nor that I’m timid to correct him… simply that’s it’s ultimately what I want anyway, so I’m not getting worked up over it.  I don’t see it as a brat trying to get his way, but instead a loving submissive who knows this is exactly what kind of poke I needed right then.  One that led to a playful little scene I could relax into and work out my aggressions.  A scene my mind couldn’t slow down for long enough to even imagine, let alone plan.  But I scene I dreadfully needed in the state I was in.  He gets it. 

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