alliradaye: We had a very confusing conversation after he read my post about my reluctance to let hi
alliradaye: We had a very confusing conversation after he read my post about my reluctance to let him use my apartment to fuck another girl. Unsurprisingly, the first thing he had me do was show him my cunt. “Dry. Stubborn.” As I’d said, I really was too stressed about the situation to feel aroused by it. But yes, if I could’ve petulantly controlled my cunt to not leak had I been aroused, I would have. His assessment wasn’t wrong. “Would you like to edge?”I didn’t know how to answer him. So I didn’t.He filled the silence for me by intimating that I was likely “inaudibly cursing in [non-English].”“I’m thinking,” I finally replied. “I’m not actually very upset anymore.” By that point, I had already angsted my way through the knotted emotions and was slowly crawling back towards equilibrium in my mind. “I am a little weary though from all the thinking,” I told him. “You of course do not have to edge. It wasn’t even an offer. Just a question.”“Well then. Problem solved.”“Problem?”“I couldn’t decide anyway.”“Question unanswered. Answer me.”“I don’t know. I suppose I would have said yes. And I shudder to think what it would mean for the next few times I ask for permission to edge if I said no now.”“I didn’t tell you to hypothesize. The question is still unanswered.” Sigh. “Yes, I would like to edge.” I still had to force myself to answer the question the way I knew he wanted me to answer it. “Good to know. I wonder what my response would have been had you shown a bit more alacrity.”Alacrity. Alacrity. Alacrity. I felt an immediate fixation on the word. It perfectly captures an ideal that I never seem to be able to reach. Sigh.“Such a deep malaise,” he mused. “It’s passing. I’m sorry.”“A profound stillness in your arousal and sense of being. It’s interesting. You went from cheerfully suggesting that I bring a girl over for you to serve to writing about the pain that such a suggestion causes. As I attempt to please your multifaceted sense of depravity, you’re one step ahead, changing your mind.”“It is a much more pleasant prospect in my imagination than in reality. And you twist the situations away from what I imagine.”“Hmm. What do you imagine?”“I don’t know exactly.” I paused. “Did you think I would eagerly like this?”“No.”“I didn’t think you had.” See. I knew he knew why I was struggling to accept and obey this demand, and he knew I knew that this had never been meant to be as breezily easy as he made it seem. “Edge. Fingers. In bed. Once.”What? That is my very favorite way to edge, which naturally means he rarely allows me to edge this way. Only when I have been very, very good am I allowed it and even then, I know better than to expect it. I was confused. And tired. And weighed down by the first stirrings of remorse. But still under the passing shadow of gloom and angst and rebellion. I didn’t really want to edge.“Thank you.” I opted for the right answer more immediately this time. He is rather heroically patient with me most of the time, but there is a limit to how stubborn I can be for the sake of being stubborn.“You’ve been through a lot. Enjoy it.”“Being stubborn and not alacritous?” I didn’t think I deserved to edge.“Raking yourself over your mental coals.”Ohhh. I felt a shiver. “Do you… enjoy when I do that?”“Why do you ask.”“I mean, you already know that I always wish I could just be readily, pliantly obedient and easy.”“If you were always and immediately plaint, I’d lose interest. I like pushing boundaries. For that to occur, there must be boundaries. And resistance.”I aim for placid obedience, but he likes to topple me over. There isn’t an end point at which everything becomes easy. The realization that I can never reach my goal as a submissive because his desires in dominance contradict them deflated my sense of self that little bit more.I edged thinking about the inescapability of my angst. Devotional Training: Inescapable escapism. -- source link