Finally! The last post in the 9-part magnum opus of posts related to the task left to me by my Belle Fille before she left me, high, dry, and horny for a week. The title of this one’s a little weird, but I wanted to keep the the whole “<blank> me” meme I had going. You’ll get the picture.
Up until now, I’ve pretty much focused on what I want with these posts. The list of desires pent up in the perverted imagination of your sexually deviant spouse is extensive and I wouldn’t blame you if it’s left you spinning and anxious over the numerous things I’m asking you to keep in mind all the time, every time we go to bed.
I won’t bother with the typical prattle about how glorious it is to be a dominant woman with a subbie, servile husband willing to dote on you hand and foot. First of all, you know that’s not the best description of me. To a certain extent, maybe, but not entirely. Also, I know you. It’s really hard for you to let others do things. There’s too much of your mother in you for that. And to suggest that my engagement level with you should be predicated on flooding me with repressed sexual desire is silly. If I can’t be a focused, loving spouse without all the D/s stuff, then the D/s stuff is only there to mask a huge underlying problem (kinda like a men’s room air freshener). In any event, we’ve already had our huge, underlying problem exposed and have gone a long way towards addressing it. Yes, I will be more interested in you in every way. Yes, I will want to do more things for you. I won’t be able to help it. It’s hormonal. I won’t totally discount the value of the extra attention, but I’m not so naive to forget it comes with a cost of additional work on your part to maintain and/or fend off my constant sexual desires.
When I say “enjoy me”, I mean this should be fun. Not just hot and sexy and blood-pumping, but really and truely joyful. You are my best friend. I have never been closer to anyone ever in my life. When it comes to our sex, I don’t want us to get bogged down by all the shit that comes along with it. That shit’s supposed to work for us, not against us. So, don’t ask yourself if you’re being dominate enough. Don’t try to do it “right”. Don’t worry about coming up with words you wouldn’t normally use or try to say them in a manner you’re not comfortable with. Have fun with it. Embrace the silly nature of it all. Joke about it. Don’t think it’ll bother me at all if you do because I fully acknowledge the silly, silly things I’m asking you to do. We make each other laugh in every other aspect of our lives, why not this one, too? And if we get to have a bunch of hot, sweaty sex along way, fan-fucking-tastic.
As I’ve said before, I’m only interested in doing all these things with you. The real you. The you I fell in love with and made babies with and want to spend the rest of my life with. No one else. I don’t want and would never ask you to become someone else to indulge me. Do what you can. Do what you enjoy. The rest will work itself out. We’ll keep talking. We’ll keep adapting.
So with that, I have faithfully completed the task you assigned me. I consider myself very lucky to have a beautiful, caring woman who is willing to accept so much and go so far for me. I deeply appreciate all that you’ve done thus far and all you’ll ever do for me in the future. Never forget that I am, right now, exactly where I want to be. By your side.
Yours in every way,