Taken to task


I have fallen off the blogging wagon spectacularly. If it were a real fall and not an analogy, I’d be featured on one of those hilarious home video shows. Soz.

What brings me back is an assignment, from the Sir – or rather the assignment has made me wonder about some things. The nature of the dynamic between us. The kind of sub I am. The kind of sub I want to be.

Between work and Christmas and more work and money and family and and and and, I’ve been fairly stressed out recently. Wound up like a spring, touchy as hell, ready to snap at any moment. That moment, it turns out, was last week.

Under the strain of some regulation torment from himself, I crumbled. He was threatening to start using tickling as a punishment (I detest being tickled, it terrifies me) while pinching and flicking and prodding my already tender nipples. I was trying to be sweet, to take the teasing in the playful spirit it was meant; to relax into being his Pet because I know that’s what he wanted. To calm me and bring me to a safe space. Instead, my failure to submit was piled on top of weeks of annoyance and stress, bringing the whole heap of suppressed emotion down on my head, and I burst into tears.

True to form, he wrapped me up tight in his arms and cooed and stroked my hair and wiped my tears til I was done, asking no questions. “I was only trying to make you feel subby, Pet. It seemed like you needed it”, he said. And he was right, I did. But something in me wouldn’t — or couldn’t — soften to his meanness and let go of the tight control I’d established over my emotions the past few weeks. I told him I needed him to be more gentle, softer with me when I’m wound up. But still dominant. Always dominant. Doesn’t make a lot of sense, even to me… but I know there’s a way he can smooth my nerves and calm my soul and seamlessly take control away from me without bringing out that bratty side of me.

Of course, he wanted to know how. So he gave me a task: to write a list of things he can do to make me feel subby. Non-mean things, things that don’t make me stubborn and pouty. Just three things, more if I can think of them. I thought three would be a stretch, so wound up and bratty was I. But on reflection, there’s so many things that he does that make me feel owned and safe.

The way he holds the back of my neck, just tight enough to be a little sore. Holding my wrists. The sneaky way he inhales my scent when we’re spooned up in bed. Letting his hands roam anywhere and everywhere; legs, bum, neck, breasts, when we’re slowly waking up in the mornings. Removing various items of my clothing on a whim. Spankings. Blow jobs. Especially blow jobs. Biting my bottom lip when we kiss. All these things remind me that I’m his.

And one more thing to add to the list, Sir — being given little tasks. More, please.

2 Responses to “Taken to task”

  1. Especially blow jobs?! Oh no, what ever shall I do?!

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