I decided yesterday afternoon about three that I wanted some pussy that night. In the past, that would have meant waiting until we were in bed before doing anything about it. Then, I’d come on to Belle in an attempt to get my dick wet, and if she declined (which she often did), I’d give her some attitude, be pissed, and then go jack-off to porn. Those were the old days.
These days, things are more complicated. I needed to plan and plot. My goal was to ease her reentry into home life in order to make her as relaxed and retaining as much residual energy as possible. To that end, I picked up both kids, helped the boy finish his homework, and literally had dinner on the table all before she walked in the door. Then, I made sure her coffee was set to brew at 5:15 AM and cleaned up the kitchen. Nice. For her, no muss, no fuss.
Once in bed, I told her it had been three days since her last orgasm and I thought it was high time she had another. It was my job to make sure she was properly serviced, after all, and my professional opinion was she needed me to work her over. She looked at me for a moment and basically said all I wanted was to get into her pants. Well…yes, I said. But she was going to get an orgasm while I was going to get nothing more than hard plastic biting into my hard cock. What if she wanted a foot massage, she asked. Fuck. The foot massage. She loves those. Well, I’m happy doing whatever she wanted, I lied, but wouldn’t she really like an orgasm? Huh? Wouldntcha? Just a little one?
She then reminded me that she decided what would happened, not me. If she wanted an orgasm, I would give her one. If she wanted a foot massage, I would give her one. Basically, whatever she wanted, I would give it to her. Now, go get the cream and rub my feet.
She’s right, of course. That’s the deal. That’s what our Covenant says. So, she got a fucking great foot massage powered by my repressed sexual energy.
The problem with my plan was it being centered around me trying to get something I wanted when I should have been planning only to give her satisfaction in whatever way she needed it. I had forgotten that to make her happy is to make me happy – that there are multiple paths to my satisfaction. I was being generously selfish. I was doing things, but I was doing them for myself, not her.
Afterward, when she and her well-massaged feet turned over to go to sleep, I reflected on my attitude. I had been too forward and pushed too much, but wasn’t mad or upset for not getting what I wanted (as has happened in the past). On the contrary, I was happy and content. It’s good to be kept, denied, controlled by her. I like it. Oddly enough, I really, really like it.
You are beginning to know your place. It took me a while.