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.
And it’s kind of new to me, because the submissive side of me is needy. I’m not a real needy person. In fact, before this new lifestyle, I would have said my wife was far more needy. But now, she’s the one able to soldier on and do what needs to be done, and I’m the one pining away like a schoolgirl. This is as much a part of the honeymoon period as the hot sex and the daydreaming about whether to splurge on leg cuffs for this weekend — this new way of thinking of my wife not just as my partner but as my master.
(As an aside, while I avoid using all of the clicheed terms for a domme when I’m blogging or posting online, I do use them all the time when it’s just her and I. She’s my Mistress, Master, my Goddess. It sounds ridiculous in public, but in private…oh, it hits the sweet spot. I always thought people who used those titles were ridiculous while I was in my “denying my sub side by being snide about BDSM” period, but when it’s just me and the wife, she’s definitely getting honorifics while I’m getting diminutives. There is something awesome and powerful about using these titles, and I don’t care how ridiculous I sound to somebody outside of our bedroom, goddamn is it hot when she’s grabbing me back of the hair and beating my thighs while sodomizing me.)
But now that I’ve given my wife this power, she’s like this…sun, around which I revolve. She’s got this hold over me. I think about her all of the time, and when my mind wanders, a lot of the time it wanders toward her. I dream about her — I dreamt about her collaring me on a public bus (we don’t even live in a place with a public bus) and everybody was staring at me like I was a freak, and she was proudly smiling at the fact that I was willing to weather the stares in order to please her. I’m a grown man, I have an active life, but since I’ve let her into this place, she’s stormed in and taken up residence. I’m not going to use the word “obsessed,” but certainly, this new lifestyle has caused me to think more and more about her, us, and what we do.
We had a talk about it last night, because I said, “The normal everyday part of me knows you’re busy and it’s not personal, but the new submissive part feels really needy.” And so this morning she wrote me a hot email about how she was going to give me pleasure and pain if I was a good boy for her, and what I had to look forward to. And it was amazing how relaxed and happy that made me feel. Just this instant change in my brain chemistry and I’m content, and more than a little scared about how much attention from her plays into the way I feel. It makes me feel, to be utterly honest, like I’m back in junior high getting that old teenage feeling you get when you fall in love. It’s just intense.
It’s a little scary because while I’m not bipolar, I do have the Irish tendency to black moods and great elation. The wife is much more even-keeled. But since we started this, I haven’t had any black moods at all. I’ve been very even-keeled, able to handle stress better, able to deal with all of the little vicissitudes of life that used to get me down. Admitting the “dirty secret” that I was a sub to my wife has taken a huge load off of my shoulders. I sleep better. But I was used to the black moods — this neediness, this need to have some kind of contact with my wife that involves me subbing out to her, to hear her call me her slave or her good boy over the phone — this is new. And it scares me a little. It’s not out of control, but I’m simply not used to being needy. I’m not used to wanting somebody’s affirmation the way I want hers.
But it’s alright now. I got my affirmation, and tomorrow night I’ll be committing sin on some backroad on the way home from the airport, and the next day I’ll be laying on a rubber sheet while she covers me in piss and tries out using some kind of implement on my ass, back, and thighs.
But it’s only two months old, so certainly this is all to be expected. It’s the honeymoon period. It’s new, it’s hot, the passion is there. It’s also secret, and dirty, and that has its own appeal. We’re also living apart until June, so the absence + the great sex + the sheer, dirty hotness of BDSM means that, yes, this is fucking fantastic. And of course I want to think about it all day, especially if we’re keeping the fires stoked through dirty emails and chats and phone sex between our monthly assignations. Maybe in a year we’ll be back to going to sleep so we can get up for work early, rather than squeezing in another hour of me fucking her while she smacks me and twists the clamps on my nipples, but right now it’s new and hot and fantastic.
Right? The Honeymoon’ll end sometimes, right? God, I hope not.
