callmedolly91: Oh, my heart.Thanks for saying this. I worry that I’ll disappoint people as m
callmedolly91: Oh, my heart. Thanks for saying this. I worry that I’ll disappoint people as my kinks get a little sweeter… but I guess I think it’s a different side of the same coin. I said once before here that my deepest, darkest kink is emotional intimacy and, lo and behold, I have stumbled upon someone RACK enough to go there with me. It’s almost a double-mindfuck to know that when his eyes go dark and his hand comes down between my legs, he is feeding on my pleasure, not my pain. He is looking for my love, not my fear. He is after my heart and my mind and my growth and my creativity and he doesn’t need to make me smaller in order to hold the whole of me in his hands. If anything, he is coaxing out my biggest, brightest, most powerful self so that he can bask in the feeling of knowing that person—the best, strongest version of me—still wants to mewl and coo and whimper for him. I want to give him my fear, my pain, my debasement… but he knows he doesn’t have to take those things from me to have my devotion. I am still learning what it’s like to be able to receive love without this transaction… and it is proving a worthwhile endeavor. There is transformational magic in being loved this way, in being desired this way. There is as much breathless, wide-eyed trust in a thumb dancing carefully over the throat as there is in the hand that presses down. He had me on all fours and was stretching me with his fingers and it ached and stung and I kept pressing myself back into him, begging him to take my little hole, to disregard my body’s protest and shove his fist into me. He said: “Oh, sweetheart, I’m not taking it from you. You’re giving it to me, and it is so, so sweet.” I realized, in that moment, that I never want anyone who does not regard me with such care, such abject reverence to touch me again. Because as much as part of me wishes that sometimes he would just push past my natural boundaries and force my body to yield, I am finding that it is oh so much sweeter to know that my suffering is not essential to my value as a lover. He treats me as though my ecstasy is, itself, the treasure and, in doing so, reminds me that I am worthy of patience, of kindness, of being cherished. He tells me I’m a gift, that he would be a fool not to take good care of such a precious thing… and I have to say that, after a life like mine, being treated like this makes it an awful lot easier to move through the world without spending so much time afraid of what’s going to chew me up and spit me out next. For the first time I can remember, I don’t feel like I need to be rescued. Not by him, not by anyone. And he’s still my daddy and I’m still his sweet little girl (and vice versa…), but there’s something to be said for the shift from fear to trust. I’m excited about where it’s heading and I’m glad to hear that someone else is, too. This is honestly beautiful. Kink is good but it’s something to be given and know when the boundary is reached. And at the end of the day, being that vulnerable with someone u love is better -- source link