The Big Scare…

I know this will make three blog posts in one day, but I suppose with me it’s feast or famine.  But I read something today that really struck a chord with me.

 ”The Big Scare” is the blog post I’ve been trying to write for the last week, but just haven’t found the words.  And then, today, I read a blogpost at Let Them Eat Pro-SM Safe Spaces, which is itself a comment on a post at Alas, a Blog .  And both of the posts basically got me to the level of introspection I needed to write about “The Big Scare.”

Meet The New Wife…

If I wasn’t already in awe of my wife because I’m a dirty sub who likes her to tower over him while she smacks his face and forces him to fellate a strap-on, I’d be in awe of her because she’s adapted to the change in our relationship incredibly well. 

I know, from having seen all of the books about how to gently tell your wife you kinda sorta want to worship her divine hotness (while she beats you with a flogger,) that most women do not instantly embrace their inner Domme.  I have hit the lotto, because most wives simply do not realize that “You know, this is what I’ve always wanted to do.  Now — how do I tell him to lick the toe of this boot while we have sex?” Especially when they’re good Christian girls who heretofore felt guilty about giving her husband phone sex if the talk involved a third party.

Distractions…

The thing that surprises me about getting into BDSM is what I’m tentatively calling “the honeymoon period.”  All my wife and I think about is dirty, filthy things to do to me when we see each other again.  We’re like kids, playing that game where you suggest the outrageous, only instead of saying, “Well, I’d never do that…” we’re saying, “Oh, my, I can’t wait to do that.”

 Tomorrow night I’ll be on the plane to see her.  She’s promised me a quick nasty fuck in the car on the ride home if I obey the schedule she’s set up for me, and the delightful uncertainty is whether it’ll be her getting cock or me.  I know I’m going to get knocked around, because we played a game three weeks ago when we last saw each other that whenever we were at a red light and no one was around, I’d get my hair pulled or my face smacked until the light turned green.  Then, we get some sleep, we take our daughter to daycare, and it’s eight straight hours of violent sex at home on Friday.  (She told me I’m going to get the five “Ps” — pegging, pussy, pain, piss and prostration.) 

Everything’s new.  Everything’s hot.  And we want to do it all.  We’ve only got three days this weekend, and in that three days we’ve got to find some way to squeeze in a ton of abuse for me and pleasure for her in between us having dinner with friends who want to see me and quality time with our daughter. 

 The thing is, normally before these little trips, we’re on the phone talking dirty to each other, she’s sending me task lists as to what we’ll do, we’re emailing, chatting, thinking about nothing other than sex, sex, sex.  This week, I had a trial at work, she just got back from a certification training and is catching up on meetings with her subordinates and paperwork, and so we…just…keep…missing…each other.  There have been some money stresses, too, and so we’ve talked about all of that boring “real life” stuff instead of whether or not she wants to use my belt or buy a riding crop to heel me.  And I feel empty, and while I’ve found other things to do, hanging out with friends and studying, all of that is second place to being in her presence, even if it’s just chatting or telephoning.