16 - Thunder In His Touch

This story contains characters over the age of 18

Chapter 16 Thunder In His Touch

It happened when I had completely stopped looking, severing ties with all the people that I could see were so wrong for me. I had kept one online profile, the one on the BDSM website even though I'd said I would delete it, because I had all my stories posted there. I liked the feedback I received and I enjoyed the opportunity to talk to like-minded people once in a while. I adamantly refused to meet anyone. Then I was contacted by a Dom who so clearly understood me, it was like he could see right into my core. He not only lived the lifestyle, he was the lifestyle. It was a part of him like it was a part of me, intrinsic and incomprehensible.

It began in a platonic way. I told him I was focusing on trying new things with my husband; he was understanding, offering insight and suggestions. Eventually, I came to see that he might have more than suggestions.

We decided to meet for coffee. We had breakfast, and discussed work and some of my goals. He respected me as a person and valued my intelligence, expressing an interest in helping me attain my goals should he be in a position to do so. He thought I would be a good candidate for a job opening at his company, and I happened to be looking for a better job at the time. The conversation was innocent enough, until a time near the end when, eyes burning into me, he quietly, calmly commanded me to join him on the other side of the table. It was like a steel chain taking hold of my soul, inexplicably drawing us together. He rose; I walked around the table and slid into the booth. He slid in beside me, effectively blocking my escape, should I gather my wits and decide to leave. Whether that was his intention, I don't know. Not that I was going anywhere anyway, but I certainly wouldn't test him either. It wasn't that he intimidated me, per se. He didn't need to. He simply was what he was, and it captivated me. He sparked something elusive in me. It was a deep, hidden part of me, and I wanted — needed — to find it.

He ran his big hand under my hair, lightly cupping the back of my head. All of a sudden, he clenched his fingers in my hair, pulling my head back slightly, forcing me to look up at him, acutely aware of my exposed throat. My breathing hitched and my eyes glazed over, fire sprouting between my legs. He kissed me, gentle and deep. With slight shakes of his hand controlling my head to emphasize his words, he asked me, "You want this, don't you little girl?" I nodded and murmured assent, paralyzed. "When will I see you again?" he asked. Strapping steel to backbone, I forced myself to refocus, not allowing myself to surrender wholly over breakfast to a man I just met. "When you offer me a job..." came my reply, whispered with a slight smirk concealing the pleasant butterflies in the pit of my stomach.

I think it threw him, but I hope he respected it. I believe he knew exactly what I was doing. It wasn't about the job; I'm not that manipulative. It was about demonstrating that, even though he made me feel like a puddle of liquid heat, I was still going to hold the ultimate control over myself. I intended to maintain an element of control in our relationship, the only control a Sub is granted, by way of the safe word. I reserved the right to leave at any time, if I needed to.

Five days and numerous e-mails later, I met him at his hotel room. It was phenomenal, and degrading, and ultimately satisfying. He reveled in debasing me and bringing me back up. He undressed me and taped my wrists together behind my back. He yanked me around by my hair, commanding me into certain positions. He spanked me hard, but was considerate enough to use a towel to protect my skin and check frequently to make sure he didn't leave anything worse than flushed, pink skin. It was the hardest I'd ever had, and it was soul-cleansing, purely because it gave us both pleasure, and it wasn't necessarily about sex. He rubbed me, thrusting his fingers inside me, claiming all my orifices, forcing me to climax again and again. When I could take no more, he led me to the shower. When I finished, I came back out to lay my head in his lap on the bed and we talked while he stroked my hair and my skin. We talked about my history and experience as a Sub and some of his experience as a Dom. I promised to reflect over the day's exertions and compile my thoughts into an e-mail. Before I left, he even rubbed lotion into my legs and backside to help with the redness and soothe me back into a normal emotional state.

I went home and spent the day composing my thoughts amidst my other activities. Here is a look inside my mind, by way of those e-mailed notes:

I felt scared when you first taped my hands, just because that required a little blind trust. In my line of work, I've seen it all. The horror stories of the movies are not always so farfetched as we would like to believe. There are some strange/crazy people out there. You could easily be one of these deranged people who are very smooth, right up until the second I let you bind me. I don't think that now, but those are the thoughts that run through my head at that first moment of blind trust. You could be a vigilante, angry at women who cheat. Women have died for less.

I was a little unsure of my role, of how you want me to respond, and of what you were trying to accomplish by spanking me. If it's just that you enjoy it and I enjoy it, fine. I just want you to know that I don't act/role play unless I'm asked to, so if I say "ow" or "stop" I mean it; you might want to let up. I certainly can pretend if that's what you like, but then I need a safe word. (By the way, my safe word is "yellow," should I ever feel the need to use it.) I just like to lose myself in the sensations, so I'm not a big talker.

All that said, I like where we're at today. I enjoyed the morning very much, and all that cool down, touching. I really respond well to the sensation of being touched, and I'm much more likely to let you take it further when you take such good care of me.

Several encounters later, I felt like I belonged to him. Seems counterintuitive; how can a person love her husband and yet belong to someone else at the same time? Occasionally, I have been struck with the feeling that I must be deviant or strange, and it gets me down, but mostly I just accept that I am this way, and I like being this way. He soothes me, makes me feel wonderful, and wonderfully bad. I simply love and accept it all.

A fellow Sub wrote this in a blog on the subject:

A sub wants to feel her Master's love, to be his special girl. Made to feel he puts her above all others, to be taken and used for his pleasure; then held and loved in his arms afterward.

My Dom found this and sent it to me, showing me he makes an effort to care and understand. And this is exactly what I wanted and received by being with him. I loved being called his little girl. I missed him whenever I was not with him. I felt melancholy when he was out of town, just knowing he was that much farther away.

Through this treasured relationship with my Dom, it has become easier to be honest with myself about some of my more deviant desires, things I would not have allowed myself to consider in an entirely monogamous relationship with my husband.

Now I can admit things like wanting my Dom to strip me, collar and gag me, shackle me, and lead me naked into a BDSM party where I would be used and abused at his discretion by whoever he chose. Obviously for sanitary reasons, this is not something I will probably ever do, but in a disease-free world, this would be fantasy number one for me. I freely desired encounters with multiple people at one time, constantly trying to experience new things that are enjoyable to me. I wanted to give in to this temptation all the time, cleansing my soul at his feet, and being deprived of that release at his whim, knowing it would be even greater when he finally chose to allow it. I loved every minute of it, and fantasized incessantly about giving in to that primal part of me and never looking back at the rest of what made up my mundane life.

At the end of the first week of working at his company, he called me as I was about to leave for the day. He had found himself alone in the main building and decided to have some fun with it. I came in and he locked the front door behind me. He took my coat and directed me to his office, where he pushed me down over a table, yanked my jeans down and knelt behind me, spreading my legs to violate me deliciously with his tongue. He stood, grabbed my ponytail and began fucking me right there in his office. Then he forced me to my knees where I licked him clean of my juices. Still holding my hair tightly, he dragged me down the hall to the conference room. He pushed me back on the cold, marble table, threw my legs over his shoulder, and continued his assault. When he finally came, he pulled out, throbbing, and let his hot seed pour over my quivering, over-sensitive flesh.

Another time, we got to spend the whole day together. He was moving into a new apartment, so we christened the apartment. He stripped me, caressing my body, teasing my nipples. He left my knee-high, high-heeled boots on. The bed wasn't up yet, so he duct-taped me to a table, just big enough for me to lie on. Face up, taped around my chest and around the surface of the table, he bent my legs above me and taped my thighs in place, then taped my wrists to the table legs so my arms were secured above my head. Then he tortured me with his fist and a vibrator, stretching me, filling me, rubbing me relentlessly until I was screaming and my hips were leaping off the table. Then he cut the tape, commanded me to bend over a chair and fucked me until he was sated and I was dripping.

Although clearly enjoyable, the problem with this relationship was two-fold. The first was obvious, I loved my husband and this hidden relationship would have been detrimental to my marriage if it was ever exposed. Second, my relationship with my Dom was likely only healthy on a part-time basis. Even if I was not married and wanted a more consistent relationship with my Dom, I believe it could have been explosive. We were both introverts with cold, calculating, sociopathic tendencies. I could have lost a part of myself, constantly submitting until I lost the will to maintain that element of personal control. I always forgot he was a Sadist above anything. He wanted to push me until I broke, just to see how much it would take, and he would have loved every minute of it, right up until he succeeded.

And I enjoyed being who I was for the majority of the time. For me, being submissive was a way of looking at the world and an occasional escape from everything else. I needed it, but I don't think I could have lived it 24/7. As much as I enjoyed being with him, physically and emotionally, and loved him with a very deep part of me, it most likely didn't have the makings of a more permanent, full-time arrangement, and I didn't think either of us wanted that anyways.

I'm the kind of person who plans for every contingency, so this was just one more situation that I considered every potential aspect of. I was not always sure of my place in his life. Occasionally, I thought he liked his life the way it was, and enjoyed dabbling with me, but didn't really want the responsibility of catering to a Sub's needs on a 24/7 basis either. I didn't know if that meant it would be possible for me to maintain my own personality around him, that maybe he wouldn't try to break me as I feared, or if I would still be doomed to lose myself.