AAkasha
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Joined: 11/27/2004
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Autumn
Part 2
Copyright Akasha
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The next week was a blur. My workload had reached a peak and I barely had time to even talk to my family to tell them I was alive. David stopped calling because I didn't have time to return his calls, and we just exchanged a few emails.
Then one night I had a surprise waiting for me.
It had been a 14 hour day after a late night with only 3 hours of sleep, and I could barely drag myself up the stairs to my loft. Alex had my key from the night before, and it was not unheard of to find him lounging on my couch when I got home, on my computer, or napping in my bed.
But I found something different all together.
I walked into my living room to find him kneeling there, naked and collared, head bowed. My toys were all out of their closet spaces, all organized neatly across the table. There were candles lit.
The image overwhelmed me.
But not in the way you might expect.
**
You see, the thing about domination and desire is that it drives me, and is either there or it isn't. Certainly there are times that images or people provoke me - but it is a subtle process, and ironically most people are not even aware they are doing it. A hand in the hair just the right way, a certain glance, or a casual stance that might be for comfort but to me looks like an invitation for abduction.
But I had not told Alex I wanted to play that day. In fact, I told him on the phone around noon that I was so tired I was thinking of taking a nap in my car. Perhaps a hot bath waiting for me at the end of the night was more appropriate.
Alex, though, had been frisky. He'd brought to my attention that it had been a full 5 days since I bound and tormented him. It was mentioned sort of casually, but it did not fit into the conversation. Three other lines were ringing for me, so I told him I had not realized so much time had passed, but had to go take my calls.
Still, his intentions, for all I knew, were good. For me, and not for him. So I took his pretty face in my hands and I kissed his hair, nuzzled my nose in it, and closed my eyes to enjoy the scent.
He asked me if I wanted to use him. I told him no, I was too tired, I just needed sleep, more than anything. Alex told me that was fine, and we went into my bedroom so I could get ready to go to sleep.
I skipped dinner that night and just collapsed in my bed while he read a book and rubbed my back.
I was half asleep when I heard him kneel down next to the bed. He whispered my name and I opened my eyes.
Then he asked me something, I do not remember the exact words. But he suggested that he bind himself for me and use a dildo and masturbate, or something like that.
I was too tired to even respond. My lack of an answer was apparently vague enough that he did it anyway.
I don't think he was aware that I was asleep before he even started.
**
There was a part of me that always knew a great deal of Alex's submission was for him, not me. But there's nothing wrong with that. As long as it isn't so glaring that I feel like a prop and not a person.
Desires are a complicated thing, though, and there have been times for me that my desires were so strong I probably would have just as readily walked over someone else's desires to get what I want; I gathered it must be the same for a submissive going through withdrawls.
The next day, eyes with big dark circles under them, I was having a fight with my computer and losing when I sensed his cologne.
I heard his voice down the hall giving our receptionist a hard time. It had been about a week since I saw David, that night we stayed up talking. He peered into my office immediately apologizing for not calling before stopping by; his cell phone was on the fritz and he'd just been driving by after a meeting.
He was carrying a pint of chocolate chip ice cream.
I'd never been so happy to see ice cream in my life.
**
I shut my office door and we sat on the floor to eat ice cream right out of the container. He even brought spoons.
"You look thrashed," he observed. Immediately he apologized, and tossed out some very clever compliment which I cannot remember (but I wish I did, it was a quick recovery).
I found myself watching his mouth and the way he ate.
This man, you see, he was 20 pounds heavier than the twigs I usually tie to my bed, he had a five o'clock shadow instead of eyeliner and pouty lips.
But he turned the spoon upside down against his tongue when he ate ice cream, and suddenly that fascinated me to no end. And god, did he smell good.
We'd never kissed. And, in fact, I think it'd been years before a man made a move before I did (I am always the instigator, especially when it comes to first kisses). But he must have seen me gazing at his mouth, because the next thing I knew, we were kissing.
**
You can't imagine my surprise when my hand instinctively went to the back of his head to grab some hair and there was none. I almost ruined this kiss with a giggle; I can't remember the last time I kissed a man with hair so short in back that I couldn't even get a grip. Not even to pull it, mind you, just for -- well, for domina security, maybe you could call it.
But god, the smell of his cologne was so fantastic, and he had a great tongue. The kiss was long and deliberate, and his lips tasted like chocolate.
It was, by far, the best kiss I'd had in years.
And he wasn't even tied down.
**
Don't get me wrong - I don't have to have a man tied down EVERY time I kiss him. But most first kisses, for me, are laced with some S&M overtones because that's the way I flirt, and I am usually very aggressive with a man I am attracted to. The kiss comes quickly (sometimes, like in the case of Alex, before I even get a name), and it's coupled with a firm, slightly painful grip in the hair to hold his head still.
I think it was when I was about 21 that I started to do it that way. Partly because it felt right for me, and partly because I felt it was important to get the S&M desires out in the open from the start.
I guess I started to judge chemistry in a bit of a strange order. Sort of like having sex first to make sure you are compatible, then getting to know the person after that. Considering that I don't have casual sex (but casual bondage, of course, is ok by me), it is almost a backwards way of looking at things.
All of this rolled around in my head as I forgot and again went for that patch of hair that just was not there.
But we kept on kissing.
**
The next night David took me to a movie, and he looked over at me during a scene where Keanu Reeves got strapped to something and I could see him smirking.
I guess he sensed that I kind of sank down in my seat a little. Images of bondage like that, no matter how subtle, just rattle my femdom desires and make me feel like I just haven't had enough.
David put his arm around me, almost reassuringly, and I expected a comment, a whisper, or, god forbid, a whisper of "Would you like to do that to me?"
Then I realized who this was. He wasn't that type; no, in fact, at that point, I found myself almost worrying a little.
I mean, what would I do if the moment we did start experimenting with S&M he realized he didn't even like it?
God forbid.
**
You have to understand how all of this confused my little femdom brain. You see, the last ten years of my life I have started my relationships with some serious S&M flirting, followed by relationship building, leading eventually into full sexual relations only after a serious compatibility was established.
After all, it was my goal to weed out any men who were totally against S&M from the start - otherwise, it could result in heartache for both if after weeks of dating a guy found out I had a steel bondage chair in my bedroom and hooks in my ceiling. Definite intimacy killer for any non-kinky types.
So I had forgotten what it was like to grow close to someone first - starting off with zero sexual desire and definitely no S&M desire (I remember thinking - god, I would never want to tie up a guy like this - he's sweet, but he isn't my type) and slowly letting it build.
The result was something far more powerful than I was used to dealing with.
And that's an understatement.
**
David must have known what he was doing. The lack of submissive posturing, the choice of appropriate questions ("How does that make you feel?" vs. "What would you do to me if I were your slave?"), and the fact that he knew how to treat women.
He was a born marketer. He marketed himself to me from the start. It might have all been planned. Because by the time we actually had our first S&M experience, he was already in my head.
I adored him for never lowering his eyes in deference to me out of the blue or when I just raised my voice in an assertive way, I adore the way he didn't cower (self indulgently) when I playfully got stern with him. He'd chuckle at me and humor me, but that was about it.
I was fascinated at how he regarded the dominant side of me as if it were some mysterious affliction - not a cool sexual road trip for him. He asked questions of me that I could not even answer. He had a true respect for my dominant side - but in the way that I liked.
And he was never pretentious with me, as so many men are; they read half of the stories on my website and feel they know the real me, when in reality, they usually resort to what I call "selective memory" and remember just the things in the stories they want to. The result - some fantasy femdom from hell with a 24-hour strap on ready for action and one desire: to order him around all the time.
But not only could David navigate through the maze of my web site and pluck fantasy from reality (which is no easy task, considering some pieces actually mix the two up literally paragraphs apart), he didn't use what I wrote as a reason to bring up the topic of S&M with me.
I actually was quite touched one afternoon when he read something I wrote for my job and said he was better than the Corporate Slut Stories.
It was a piece about glue.
Well, industrial glue. But it was still 750 words about glue.
I realized with David that I was truly a dominant, but not a dominant for a self identified submissive. That is, a man whose desires to submit would drive him past his own identity. David didn't want to be a submissive; he wanted to be broken, used, tortured, and to become and object for me. Because of that, there was no point in cowering to me when we were just giggling, or sending emails with that aggravating writing style of capitalizing the You's, She's and Her's.
I realized that some submissive men don't intend to do it, they just perhaps are a little quick on the trigger, so to speak. That is, you say "BOO", and they are in the corner in a ball, ready to lick your boots. You raise your tone and they lower theirs. You give them a look, and they turn to mush, which -- don't get me wrong -- is a pretty exciting connection -- but not after knowing them a total of five minutes. It doesn't mean anything unless there is something behind it.
David wanted to know me -- the real me. He wanted to make me laugh and show me a good time, and didn't do it in hopes of getting some S&M in return. He did it because that's just the kind of guy he is, and because he liked hanging out with me - just the normal me.
His fascination with my dominant desires did not relate to what I would do to him, but what he could make me feel. And he knew that would not come from asking me about my toys, offering to lace my boots out of the blue, or slipping into a submissive mind space and losing himself in his own fantasies.
And now David is here, in my bedroom, and he is blindfolded and waiting for me. Or at least, he thinks he is. I left him there to think about a few things, and I figured this was as good a time as any to finish this piece.
His hair is too short. His shoulders are too broad, and he feels heavy on me when we make love and he's on top. But he does these silly stories for me, and he eats ice cream the right way, and best of all he doesn't ever ask me to dominate him.
I've put on the shortest skirt I own, and in my lap I have a leather dog collar. He has never worn such a thing. And the first time I met him, I would have had a dying giggle fit to think I would ever put such a thing on him.
Let alone, get turned on by the thought of it.
Tonight I will truly dominate him, dominate him for the first time. This is the most excited I have been in years; because I know he knows me, and I know he will make me feel good.
And no, not by licking my pussy (granted that will come into play, of course), but by using his eyes, not losing himself in his own fantasy, and by taking all of that knowledge he has about my brain and putting it to good use.
I hear some rattling in there. The poor boy is cold in the chair, and I made sure the shackles were nice and tight. I'm wet just thinking about him in there, because he gets this really pensive look in his eyes when he can't move.
I don't know if he does that on purpose or does it naturally.
But, to be honest, it doesn't matter. What matters is that he does it. And he knows I like it.
And he wants me to like it.
More than he wants it for himself.
_____________________________
Akasha's Web - All original Femdom content since 1995
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Autumn pt. 2 (F/m, relationships) - 
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