Last night, with only candles illuminating the room, I was kneeling naked at end of the bed except for the Looker 02 and massaging Belle’s feet with coconut foot lotion. I asked Belle what one thing has changed most for her in our dynamic since we started it.
Her answer was that she was more confident in her role and less worried and/or guilty about what I was going through. My periodic whining about being so horny and desperate rarely phases her anymore. At the beginning, our exploration of chastity and denial and female domination were all as a result of a difficult phase in our marriage (not a unique story) and she accepted the dynamic more as a reaction to all that. We were not in an especially healthy place, though I think we’re now in the midst of the best, most intimate years of our relationship. In any event, that was her answer. Confidence. Learning how to make my denial her own, so to speak. That comes with time, of course, and experience.
She asked me the same question. I said I wasn’t as urgent as in the early years. There was an imperative that drove me. Hard to describe, really, but I seemed to be in a terrible hurry to get all that denying denied. Also, while I was ascribing a desire to submit to her authority and control over me and my sex, I ended up being a headwind for her in trying to find her path. I had my own ideas and my life-long conditioning as a male in our culture left me with residual feelings and impulses very much at odds with what I was saying I wanted. Once I accepted that I didn’t deserve anything, that I really didn’t want to deserve anything, that the best sex was the sex she wanted and not the sex I tried to push onto her, I found the turbulence within me subsided. Somehow, somewhere, I left that entitled prerogative behind. Realized it was incompatible with the kind of submissive partner I said I was and wanted to be.
My temperament is more even now, too. There are fewer highs and lows. I’m more often in “the zone” and feeling pretty good. I think that’s due to a few things. One, I don’t have orgasms so the swelling and crashing hormones aren’t a factor. Also, some of that could just be from my body chemistry adjusting to how it is to live without the release of orgasm (nearly seven months now). Two, either Belle’s confidence has left me less inclined to challenge her or I’m better at letting her lead, but regardless, I’m a lot more comfortable in my submissive skin than I was back in the day. I have learned how to gather energy from the act of submission. From being focused on her needs and desires and wants and letting the fuzzy warmth of knowing I am serving her feed me in a way I had a hard time with earlier on. The foot rubbing, for example. The composition of the event had very sexual overtones, but she didn’t want that. That didn’t stop the penis from surging and choking on the Looker’s insert and straining against its bars. For me, it was sexual. For Belle, it was luxuriously relaxing. For both of us, it was what we wanted.
All of this kind of talk sort of backed into Belle’s assertion the other day that she was close to letting me out and making me come. The supreme irony of being her submissive is knowing that she has a need and a desire to be taken by a man. A strong and powerful one who can have his way with her. She’ll be wanting that from me and, because I want her to have whatever she wants, I’ll do my best to give it to her, but the very act of doing so has the potential to screw with the foundation of our dynamic. If I unleash the lizard and we screw like teenagers there will be an impact. It’ll be my job to hold up my commitment to her without the hormonal help.
This is where the idea of being cuckolded comes from, I’m sure. You get to this point where her needs are paramount and there is this one kind of sex you almost by definition can’t provide but you want her to have it anyway. Toss in a pinch of kinking on humiliation and there’s your recipe for wanting her to take a boyfriend. She even joked about it once more as I was rubbing her feet. Said she could make me sleep on the floor at the foot of the bed, naked and uncovered, while she shared it with her lover. “I’ll let you stew on that idea for a while,” she said. Good god, the device was tight right then. I had to stop rubbing to wait for the feeling of what that would be like to pass. It took my strength away.
Of course Belle’s very happy with the husband she has and the benefits of my submission, but she never would have described me if she was asked to write down the perfect mate back when she was 21. I told her that the idea of having a person with the needs I have as a partner sounded exhausting to me. I guess that really means I’m a sub because I don’t think I could stand having to deal with one. That’s one of the things that makes me so thankful she deals with me. That she’s taken the time to really try and figure out how to make all this work. That means, if she tells me to suck it up and have good old fashioned “pure” sex with her, I’ll do it. She’s accommodated me. It’s my job to reciprocate.
But not last night. Once the rubbing and talking was over, it was time to sleep. I wanted to get inside her pussy, but Belle was tired. Once again, my desires melted away in the face of her intentions. And we fell asleep intertwined and smelling of foot lotion. And happy.