My Princess and I are very warm towards each other. But that’s not what this blog entry is about. There are references to other types of warmth below.
She was rather fiery yesterday when she indicated to me after I got home from work (and after she made me get on my belly to kiss her toes, which happens frequently) that she had something to tell me. I was a bit worried about maybe bad news or it could be anything. As we walked into our bedroom for me to get out of my work clothes my Princess told me to give her my belt. I knew that the “news” would be bad indeed, or at least for me!
Several nights earlier just as I was almost out of my work clothes my Princess went behind a door to retrieve my belt which I had just hung up. She turned her back to me so I quietly bolted out of the bedroom. I can imagine the look on her face as with belt in hand she turned to see me gone. Lol! She was surprised and bellowed “Get back here!”
I’m not a bratty type at all but that was fun. That belt hurts, though. If anyone is thinking of starting out S&M with a belt, take it easy with that thing. Damn but it feels good, though. Oops, I digress.
So when last night my Princess said that she had something to tell me, it was her way of transitioning into a session of pain without giving me the opportunity to bolt.
The great philosopher and TV character from Babylon 5 J’Kar stated something like (from my memory) “The universe is comprised of moments of peace, moments of action, and moments of transition.” I wonder how others transition into a BDSM session? Is it something like this? “Honey, do you feel like whipping me now or maybe later?” “Okay, yes that would be grand.” Or maybe “Are you feeling up to taking a whipping now?” “Oh yes that’d be peachy!” Well, those transitions wouldn’t work for me. For me BDSM is as much about consensual non-consent as reasonably possible, and to treat it like most any other activity isn’t my type of dynamic. That said, I certainly understand the necessity to negotiate a scene, being clear about limits and generally talking about the mindset, etc. My Princess and I have had those discussions many times (plus she reads my blog!) and she knows that she has my consent anytime we are home, so the dynamic is all non-consent which is great because then I can run away, beg, and complain all I want without her thinking that there is any need or desire to actually stop.
Our moments of transition are that she either tells me to assume the position (whatever position she wants me in) or she just grabs me by the you-know-what and drags me to where she wants me. In truth, I could safe word or just indicate if something is wrong, and believe it or not there have been two or three times in the 18 months or so since BDSM has re-entered our lives when a BDSM scene would just not be enjoyable (did I really type that? did that really occur???), but that’s rare.
Anywho, later, after dinner, I grabbed a chocolate granola bar. I try not to eat too big of a dinner just because that’s not healthy and then I fill in the corners sometimes with a granola bar. But after that incident I blogged about within the past few weeks in which my Princess had simply told me to put the granola bar away and have cauliflower instead, I have been more hesitant. A few nights ago I did have a granola bar, the first since that incident, and I tried to be completely casual about it but my Princess bullied me anyway. Bullying is what it felt like, she does it because she can. As soon as she saw the granola bar a few nights ago she smiled sadistically and I tried to not make eye contact but I was doomed anyway. She told me to give her the granola bar and I was fine with sharing it but that’s not what she had in mind.
She took the flat part of the granola bar and rubbed it a few times against the sole of her bare foot. I would be perfectly fine with that, having a fetish for her feet, but her feet were dirty, not horribly, but definitely dirty. I sighed and ate the granola bar anyway.
Last night I escaped almost unscathed probably because I begged her to allow me to have the granola bar instead of just assuming I could have it. She told me to kiss each of her toes 10 times, a total of 100 kisses, and I was glad for that. That was a damn good granola bar last night. (I never thought I’d be blogging about eating a granola bar but oh well.)
Later in the evening we took our first walk around the neighborhood since my last blog entry. As my Princess lay on the bed ready for my face to cool off her warm feet right after the walk, I ran into the kitchen to retrieve an ice pack from the freezer. I knelt down at her feet and then pressed the ice pack against one side of my entire face for several seconds. It hurt but it wasn’t too bad. My Princess laughed because she knew that we have been joking with each other about dipping our hands in a bucket of ice for many years, and then she giggled when I pressed my ice-cooled face to the soles of her feet. She told me that it felt good so I did it several more times, pressing the ice pack to my face then my face to her feet. I also pressed the ice pack against my lips and then pressed my lips to her toes.
She enjoyed it but I think she likes even better the new somewhat standard foot service I provide which is to lick the soles of her warm feet and then blow on them to cool them off. My Princess seems to like that a lot. See, I am a service slave! lol
Then my Princess had me lie down on the bed as she grabbed the ice pack. Oh sh..oot. Damn this is going to hurt. But she didn’t hurt me, she dabbed the ice pack on the soles of my very warm feet. Except that it was too cold and didn’t feel all that good, it sort of hurt a bit but I loved the attention nonetheless. The ice pack was getting a bit warmer and it was starting to feel good having her dab that against my feet but then she walked to the side of the bed and my fear level jumped. She just couldn’t resist pressing the ice pack against the side of my body and in a few other sensitive areas. I guess she doesn’t mind me yelling at the top of my lungs right into her face (see what my Princess has to put up with?!).
She was done and I said “Thank you, Princess” like a bullied victim afraid of more torture because that’s truly how I felt (gosh I love that feeling). But inside I truly am thankful, even at those times when I’m yelling in pain. Well, maybe not right at those times, but in between yelling I am thankful!
I type a lot of words to describe moments which go by quickly. My Princess sometimes jokes with me after I have been yelling in pain “And you think you could take hours of this, ha!” My only thoughts are to mimic Maxwell Smart who said to a torturer “I can stand the pain if you can stand the screaming.” I always loved that line, one of my favorite evarrr. Wait, if Max is screaming then he can’t stand the pain so his line is confusing! Which makes it all the more fun.
I have learned that putting an ice pack against my lips and feet make my lips and feet feel very warm later once the coolness has worn off.
Later in the evening as we sat on the couch I teased her like I do sometimes by putting my very warm feet on her thigh, as if I am torturing her with a hot poker. My Princess, not being submissive, reacts with mock anger and threats. Except this time there were no threats, there were consequences. She told me to stand up on the cool floor. I thought she was joking, meaning that she didn’t want me to actually stand up to get away from what I was typing on my PC, so I didn’t stand at first.
Tangent: is disobedience due to thinking that the command was a joke a legit excuse? Hmmm, I guess now that I’m typing it out the answer is probably no.
She repeated her command and that was that, I stood up. Then my warm and loving Princess very thoughtfully told me to stand barefoot over the air conditioning vent on the floor as that would cool my warm feet. I was very thankful that she was thinking of my comfort level but I pointed out that it’s very cold and would hurt. My Princess told me to stand over it anyway and to press my nose to the wall right next to the vent. There was no joke in the command level of her voice. She was going to have some more fun at my expense.
So I stood there naked and shivering in the cold from the vent and with my nose and head pressed against the wall as she watched TV and presumably cast a glance my way from time to time. I stood like that for several minutes before being allowed to sit back down on the couch. I kissed her feet and said “Thank you, Princess.”
A bit later as she was reaching for a pillow on the floor she bumped her hand into the thin hard stick which she has handy in the room where we spend most of our time. I would call it a cane but it looks more like a stick. It doesn’t hurt like hell when she whacks me with it but she usually does it rapid pace and then the pain level ramps up, or if she hits me hard enough it hurts right away. Bumping into the stick gave her a quick idea so she picked it up and without warning started whacking my chest with it. Whiiinnne.
Then she said the line of the night: “You sure are whiney tonight!”
I was caught between wanting to cry and wanting to laugh. I responded, only somewhat whiningly, “It’s because you’re being so mean to me!”