Knowing My Place

Hello there. Where were we? I hate to admit, I don’t even remember. I’ve been away from this blog for a long time. I felt like our story was told. M and I found something we both wanted. We found each other. We found our rhythm as a D/s couple. We found our groove as a family. And despite rocky roads and winding paths, life is good.

I’ve started a side job…more like a side-hustle. By day, I work in my own consulting firm. By night, I am a phone sex operator. Yes. It’s true. I get on the phones late at night and speak with a variety of callers. It is interesting and fun.  M is fine with me chatting up these anonymous gents. The money is good. And for the most part, it’s easy work. The only issue is that I work late hours. Those late hours cut into “our time” and we fall asleep before we can have any fun.

Most couples struggle to find connection because we are inundated with responsibility. Being pulled in so many directions, often clouds our vision. Even the mirror is foggy and we cannot see who we are. That’s when it’s high time for a reminder.

Last night, I had a very long call. It was originally a 30 minute request, that turned into a two and a half hour conversation. By the time I finished, M was already in the bed. He was lying there completely naked, with a sheet over him. I looked at him and contemplated waking him up. I wanted him so badly. But I realized he was tired. He’s been working long hours and he appeared to be sleeping deeply. I quietly got into bed and rolled over to go to sleep.

“Get down between my legs, slut.” he commanded.

I was shocked. I thought he was asleep. I slowly rolled towards him when he said in a more direct tone. “Down between my legs. Suck my cock, slut.”

I scurried down to take him into my mouth. It’s been a while since he talked to me like that. I was aroused and eager to please him. I felt his hand on my head, pulling me by the hair as he guided the pace. He was forceful and aggressive. I loved it.

“Don’t take it deep, unless I tell you, slut. Or unless I shove it down your throat like this.”  And he pushed himself into my throat, gagging me. I nodded in approval. “You need to have your face-fucked. You need to be reminded who you are, slave.”

The word “slave”, as if by instinct, caused me to take him deep. Remember, he told me not to, unless he instructed me. He yanked me up by the hair and pulled me off his rock hard dick. Growling at me he said, “No slut. I decide when you take it deep. You are here for my use. Now rub my cock all over your face. Slap your face with my cock, you dirty slave.”

Holy shit it was hot! I was so into our scene. He took anything he wanted from me. He ordered and commanded me to pleasure him as he wanted. He posed my body in the positions he wanted. He reminded me of who I am as he relentlessly used me like a dirty slut.

Because, that is who I am. I am his dirty slut. My purpose is to serve and submit to him. And although our dynamic is ever-present in all we do, it’s nice to have it demonstrated in such a direct way. Such a deliciously dirty way.

The intensity of our scene brought me to subspace. It was a perfect conclusion to our night. As the tears fell, I relaxed into his strong arms and let go of everything. Expectations. Responsibilities. Stress. I let go of it all and found my place.

My place is right there. In his capable grasp. Under his spell.

In love.

In service to Him.

know my place

(photo credit, Pinterest)

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Faith

What is faith anyway?

I am not speaking from a religious place, but rather a spiritual place.

So faith…what is it?

Using traditional religion as an example, isn’t faith defined as believing in something but having no tangible proof of its existence?

The skeptic in me always wants proof.  Always wants to see the data.

Always wants to…

Over-analyze

Over-think

Question

Doubt

That is just my nature.

Optimists see the glass half-full.  Pessimists see it half-empty.  Realists see it as a half a glass of water.

And the skeptics…We say, “I don’t even know if that’s really water.”

So how does this skeptic learn to believe?

Maestro and I were talking last night and he brought up my post from yesterday, The Struggle.  He said He sensed some anxiety from me after reading it.  That maybe I was skeptical of this beautiful thing we have together.

His response to that skeptical line of thought….

To continue being Himself.

To continue to believe in what we have.  To have faith in us.

I was taken in by this rationale.

He continued, “I know what we have.  I have no doubt that you are the person I want to grow old with, that you are the one person for me.  I know it.  I believe in it.  I am willing to put the effort into this.  To not give up.  To be whatever you need.  To give you the space to process when you feel skeptical.  I am not going anywhere.  Do you know why?  Because, I love you.  But most importantly, I believe in us.”

I was silent.  Overcome with emotion.

At that moment…at that very moment Maestro taught me the concept of faith.  Through all of my years in Sunday school.  All of my years of believing in God and Jesus and Santa Claus, I never fully understood what it meant to have faith.

Now I get it.

And here’s what I gleaned from our conversation.

I believe in us too.

And Maestro is teaching me, guiding me back on the path to spiritual enlightenment.  He is bringing me to this new place in me that I am learning to call home.

For now, our home isn’t a tangible place.  It’s our faith in who we are together.