All right. Now I am kind of back in that space of just wanting more dominance, wanting to have things done to me, wanting to be used, and so on. It’s a good place, but this time around I am going to work hard on not being a pest and on respecting and being a good friend to my (tired, space-needing) partner.
One of the (few) terms of the present arrangement is that I am to call him “Sir” or “Master” at times that it’s appropriate. I found myself resisting doing this earlier, which kind of happened the last time we switched as well, in the beginning. I will hear times that I should say it, and I intentionally don’t, because it’s kind of embarrassing to do it, because I just kind of can’t make the word come out of my mouth.
It’s degrading to call someone Master. Or Sir. It’s degrading to mean it.
(I speak for myself, of course.)
It’s not humiliating. It’s not meant to make me feel bad about myself, and it doesn’t. But it is humbling. It is degrading in that it involves a lowering of my grade, my place on the scale in the relationship. And it’s meant to be that way. That’s what it’s for. That’s what makes it hot. I deeply love doing it, but it’s hard to go there.
I let Joscelin know earlier that I’d been avoiding saying it. I hadn’t said it all evening, in fact, though I’d had plenty of opportunities.
He asked me why I hadn’t, and I said what I’ve written here, that it’s kind of embarrassing. That it’s degrading.
“I don’t think you should do that,” he said. “I don’t think you should avoid saying it when you feel it would be appropriate to. It’s meant to be degrading.”
“Yes, Sir,” I said.
“Do you want me to punish you for it?” he asked.
I hesitated. Ultimately I told him that I thought that he probably should – that being punished would have the effect of coercing me into doing it, and that doing it would be both hot and beneficial to the dynamic we want to cultivate. And I had known that I should do it all along, so punishing me would be appropriate.
And he did.
Afterwards we stood together for a long time, and I relished feeling afraid of him – feeling afraid of his potential energy and his power over me and the look of ownership in his eyes. He felt concerned by my fear, because if he were afraid like me, it would mean I was about to break him. But it’s just how I work. It wasn’t a sign of anything gone wrong, but just a kind of delicious foreplay for me. If I got too scared it would be trouble, but I know how to calm myself, especially when nothing actually that scary is happening.
He looked sexy and beautiful and I longed madly to suck on his nipple, or his cock. He kissed me and went to spend some time alone. I let him.