all the right moves

I love a good summer thunderstorm.  It's one of the reasons i like not having air conditioning - i feel them coming even inside.  I miss our old house, where we used to live - it had the most fantastic front porch - swing and all, perfect to just sit and be in the storm.  The storms last week though meant that his flight home at the end of the week was cancelled and the one the next morning delayed.  All of which meant a small window of time alone together most likely lost, again, and with no real prospects in the foreseeable future. That started a storm of negative in my head.

As it happens - i want those times with him.  We are rock solid as a couple, our marriage is very strong, but i've found out that there is something more that is possible and i'm very reluctant to give that up, i worry if i think it is threatened, and i'm greedy when i don't get enough.  It's reinforcing our roles, satisfying my masochistic bent, a great endorphin trip, a chance to offer myself to him in a hard way, reconnecting in a way that goes far beyond anything vanilla (i believe).... It's all that, and i can live without it but i don't really want to and neither does he.  It took me a very long time to surrender my need to him, to actively open up to a need in myself that only he can meet.  To rely on him that deeply.

By the time he got home - i was storm clouds gathering, rumbling and threatening to open up.  I had to work not to give in to the parts of my head that try to convince me that it would be better if i shut myself off to this need rather than be hurt again and again when it can't be met.  For me - i really do have to actively keep myself open to this; staying open to the connection and the more of it all means also being undefended against the hurt and disappointment and doubt.  I was disappointed and he could see that, but i didn't give in to my doubts.  I waited for him, i hoped for some opportunity to re-connect, but not as i have (i'm ashamed to say) testing him.

He took me to the shower and reminded me who and what i am.  He doesn't do that often, maybe that's why it's so effective.  Maybe there's something left in our DNA or our reptilian brains that connects to the dominance and submission of marking or being marked with piss, likely it's humiliating because society and our upbringing say it's so.  It is active submission to kneel, to stay put, to open my eyes and watch when he commands it, to clean him with my mouth after...

There was no time afterward for spanking or beatings or trips to subspace, but he used me with that combination of distance and detachment and almost but not quite brutality that is so perfect.  He brought me to the edge again and again, he made me beg, and somehow it was so clearly just for his amusement, his pleasure.  Even once he commanded me to come, it was for him.

It is interesting to me that what i need, what allows me to keep myself open to him, is not that he provide any certain thing or give me any specific thing, but simply that he challenge that the door remains open.