Posts Tagged ‘Aftercare’

I don’t want to start this post with “Last night…”, but I can’t seem to find any other way that seems appropriate for what I’m about to go into. So, last night… What was that movie from the 90’s with Kirsten Dunst? Crazy Beautiful, was it? That was what my experience was last night.

The night started with playful spankings, that didn’t seem like they were going to get any more serious than what they were. Everyone was still awake, it was more of like a love tap, if you will. After it was just us awake, everything changed.

I had been lazing around in a bra and a pair of jeans, because my house for some reason is incredibly warm. But then The Boyfriend asked if I’d go change into something a little shorter, so he could rub my legs, supposedly his favorite part of my body. I’m not one who really likes to show off a lot of skin. If it wasn’t for the fact that I was boiling hot, rarely would you catch me showing off my stomach!!

So even though the playful spankings earlier in the night, and the rubbing of the legs had totally started to show on my underwear, my insecurities tried to cock block me. The Boyfriend gets me to turn to face him (originally I was laying down on my stomach), and immediately I just started thinking over and over again, “He’s gonna think you’re fat! He’s gonna think you’re ugly!”.

He pulls the pillow that I was using as my stomach shield off, pulls me in close and gives me a deep, passionate, amazing kiss. Literally, in the moment of a kiss, I felt my insecurities fade. It was as if his lips took me out of my mind and into my body. I no longer thought, I just felt.

My plan was to spend awhile teasing him until I had become satisfied with some sort of impact, whether it be spanking or him going to get the flogger. After a bunch of making out, a thousand more amazing kisses, and some smacking and forceful grabbing, I could no longer hold off.

After what seemed like a really long time of me being on top of him, I knelt on the couch ready for him to take me from behind. I had my head resting on the back of the couch, supported by only my chin. And my fingers were eagerly between my legs. My skirt covered most of my ass, and my legs were spread wide as he pounded me from behind.

After he came, I stayed in the same position, playing with myself as he spanked me. Seriously spanked me. Carefully slapping my sit spot, hard and fast. My ass was stinging, my pussy was swollen, my body was drenched in sweat. My toes pointed vigorously as a few blows fell in quick succession and I flinched away from them.

I erupted into an intense, muscle-tightening orgasm. My legs went from bent flat on the couch, to pointed straight up towards my head. My body pushed down, and I felt like I wasn’t even there. Just my convulsing orgasm. It seemed so much bigger and greater than me.

I felt weak and dizzy and sore and incredibly enlightened by the whole experience. Sadly, aftercare doesn’t seem to be part of sexual dictionary yet. Because even though it had some hardcore impact elements, it was treated like every other night of sex. Smoke and then bed. Even when we got in bed, The Boyfriend passed out the second his head hit the pillow, and he wasn’t even cuddling me.

The whole thing was amazing, but I really feel like I could’ve used some cuddling and some reassurance that I did good. Maybe rubbing my sore red ass, or telling me how much fun it was. I wanted to collapse into someone’s arms, because that’s what I felt like doing.

I haven’t completely talked to The Boyfriend about the fire pit or the munch this month either. He saw the post-it note that I wrote all the information on, and I told him about the personal invite, but I haven’t yet said I want to go. I’m kind of hoping he’ll be like, “I noticed you had some stuff written down, did you want to go to it?” and then I’d be all like, “Kinda. Do you?” and then in a perfect world, he’d be all like, “Yeah, I would love to go. I’ll make sure I don’t work that night.” and blam, it would be done.

I just hate constantly feeling like I’m trying to convert him. Because I don’t want to change who he is, especially not sexually. If it’s not him, I don’t want him to feel pressured to do it.

So I was clicking around on my FetLife groups today, and I stumbled across this post, which discusses when you should cut your partner out of rope bondage. Reading through it, all these people are commenting on the Dominants responsibility to constantly be checking for signs of distress in the submissive.

Seanchai comments:

There’s little more frustrating than a bottom who, trying to respect their top, doesn’t speak up when something is mildly irritating, only for it to become a major “oh god cut the rope NOW” problem once you’ve got twenty or thirty feet of rope around them.

And I’m just thinking, it sure sounds like submissive’s are almost given excuses to not communicate effectively. Personally, if I were ever in a situation with another person, where they basically hold my life and safety in their hands, I would communicate everything and if they didn’t like it, then they’re not a very good Top for me.

This whole topic makes me think about sexual communication in general. Why is it that, even though we’ve been having sex since the beginning of time, it’s still one of the hardest things for people to talk about comfortably?

I’m the type of person whose communicating constantly about sex. It probably gets annoying for everyone else around me. And it’s most important for me during sex. I’ll speak up the second anything doesn’t feel right, and The Boyfriend and I will spend a good half hour after every sex session, recounting the  things we liked and didn’t like.

What’s more surprising to me, is that, with how good I am at communication and sex, I’m pretty crappy with communication and day-to-day life. I think it’s because life always hurts and is always uncomfortable and awkward. There’s always something about life… I can communicate that pain in my ass, a thousand and one times in a minute, and it’s not going to change the fact that it’s still a pain in my ass.

There’s no EMT scissors to cut me out of awkward situations, there’s no pulling out when shit gets to deep. All the aftercare in the world isn’t going to change the fact that tomorrow will be (and if it’s not tomorrow, the day will come) another crappy day without the hand of a Top to save you. Sadness…

Well maybe we can add this to a list of goals then. First, be a responsible and safe submissive. Second, get as good at communicating about day-to-day life as you do about sex. And thirdly, start reading more discussions in the BDSM Mentors Group (which I don’t usually do…).