Finally

It took months of knowing her, talking with her, checking on her through those who knew her play and her greater life before I was ready to enter the play space with her. I'm keeping the details of the play private, between the two of us. I'm still madly processing it all, and I am going through quite the arc of emotions.

I left a relationship because I thought I needed something on the sexual side that I would never get there. My worry was that I would get to the reality of it and not really enjoy it in the way I did in fantasy. I was correct that fantasy and reality are very different. But I wasn't prepared to have my identity shifted over the course of an hour or so, to find out that more than my fantasy-filled mind is wrapped up in bondage, submission, and masochism. My heart is, too.

I'm kinky. I'm submissive. It's in my bones and in my heart, and I can never deny it again.

So now that my lens on the world has been swapped out for something far more clear, I'm trying to figure out what to do next. The spark has touched and the smoldering has begun, but what to do with the heat? How long do I have before it gets unbearable?

The sounds of the flogger striking my skin echo in my ears at work when I'm trying to be productive. The little rectangular bruise she intentionally left on my butt cheek makes me smile as I get dressed in the morning. I can feel her hand slapping me, probing my musculature possessively, smacking my ass. I can hear the growl that came out of me from I-don't-know-where when she increased the pace and intensity of her flogger strokes. I can hear her commands, the "Yes, Ma'am" that came joyfully from the deepest parts of my submissive mind in response.

I need to go back there. Not want to... need to.

And far from being ashamed, I'm proud. I can be proud because she didn't do anything to me, we shared it together. We fed off of each other and made each other whole for a while.

"Is your heart happy?" she asked oh-so-gently after curling me on a blanket and laying beside me, my hand in hers.

"Yes," I said, squeezing her hand. "My heart is happy."

Quietlisten
Submissive Sadomasochist