Last night, Wolfie and I spent some time together in the lounge. It was a beautiful coming together after a long day of work, where we discussed how different and similar our career choices are and how we both agreed that we couldn’t do what the other does (noisy offices are a no-no for me). I impressed Wolfie with my use of ‘banalities’ and we talked about how some parts of our jobs are bizarrely similar, like being constantly and repeatedly distracted by phonecalls.
One thing led to another and I eventually ended up pinning Wolfie to the sofa. I have to be honest, that trickle of Switch that still resides in me loves to come out to play sometimes. That ferocious beast, finally in control. It kind of makes all of the other times of losing control seem worth it.
“Nah, I wouldn’t want you all calm and sated for Friday” I teased, making to climb off of him slowly.
“Friday? Friday is date night..” Wolfie said, perplexed.
“Hmm? I know, call it making up for lost time.”
Come on Wolfie, please! I need this.
“Maybe, right now we need to eat-”
“Food” he clarified, noticing my smirk.
I poured rice into the rice cooker, added the water and set it to cook. I wasn’t done, I wasn’t down and out, not yet. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I opened the Desire app and punched in my Dare:
“Toss a coin. Heads, we play nice tonight. Tails, we don’t.” I pressed and held ‘Send’ and pocketed my phone.
That should make him think.
As I sauntered through the kitchen, I could hear Black Atlass’ Sacrifice in my head, ripped straight from one of the Fifty Shades movies. I made a mental note that I still hadn’t added it to the fucking playlist, and I really should.
I smiled to myself,
The “fucking playlist”? How apt.
Unfortunately, my plan backfired when I learned that Wolfie had reset his phone and lost the app. It took some gentle nudging for him to realise I’d sent him a dare, and to get him to reinstall the app again. In my suffering, I ended up sat on the sofa, wrapping hats, scarves and supplies for the homeless in aid of Crisis, the UK’s charity for the homeless. I made another mental note that I wouldn’t mind starting a yearly tradition like this, a yearly tradition of doing good for the less fortunate. Homeless men, particularly British soldiers who had offered their lives and come home to find that they have nowhere to stay, was something I certainly cared deeply about.
“Let’s get in the spirit!” Wolfie declared, asking Google to play some Christmas music.
“Let’s not” I said, sullenly.
Wolfie stopped the mucic and placed a reassuring hand on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry, I forgot” he said softly.
It’s not that.
I took a deep breath and tried to re-focus my thoughts,
Do not think about fucking now, do not think about fucking. Do NOT think about fucking.
Easier said than done, especially after what.. 4 days? 4 days was an eternity for me. For us.
After dinner. Wolfie played on his laptop for a while and I reflected over how my blog posts were doing. My most recent Damn You, Bob’s Burgers! post was liked, and I chuckled to myself. Looking back now, it was kind of funny.
“Bob’s Burgers? What have I missed?” Wolfie asked.
“Really? Pretty impressive for a Number One Fan“, I teased.
Wolfie called up a search on my vanilla blog and typed in ‘Bob’s’, the only thing that came up was my own burger recipe. Foiled him.
Oh ho, this is perfect.
After a moment of contemplation, Wolfie remembered and punched in the address for Ten Shades and Me.
“You should not be doing that!” I gasped, leaping across to take control of the situation. He caught my hand and carried on reading.
Read in your own time!
I think the fear of judgement is still something that I struggle with. After he said “eww” the first time that I told him I was into BDSM. Even if he’s come a long, long way since then, that initial ‘eww’ has still done some psychological damage, and I know I’m much, much darker than Wolifle. At least kind of, maybe.
“Hmm, okay.. Interesting”
I know what that ‘interesting’ means. ‘Interesting’ is never good news, not for me. At least, not for keeping control.
I need control, I love control. Control is kind of what I do. Whether it’s being neat and tidy, making lists, pre-made meals and desserts, organising things well ahead of time (guess who already has a Tesco slot booked for 3rd January so she can get back into the flow of things?) or dealing with people who try to rule over me. I love control, but I love to lose it too, in the right setting. It’s almost paradoxical.
The kicker with me, and people like me, is that control comes from self-sufficiency. I grew up with a “do it tomorrow” attitude from my parents, so if I wanted something then usually I would have to do it myself, and that has stayed with me ever since. Now, if I’m hungry, I’ll get myself food. If I’m tired, I’ll take myself for a nap. If I want an orgasm, well, I have my right hand. I love people, but I don’t need them and I’ve always said as much to Wolfie.
I love you, but I don’t need you.
So for me, losing control (and particularly being physically restrained) causes a rapid transformation in my psychology. I’m thrown into a sense and a need to cooperate, to engage. Suddenly, my needs, wants and desires are dependent on the will of others, and it’s intoxicating.
“I’ll do it, I swear” I threatened. I was down, but not out. I still had one trick up my sleeve. It was small, unlikely to work, but I’d deploy anything, short of physical harm or injury.
“Bitch”, I growled.
“Mmhmm”, Wolfie agreed.
Fuck, this isn’t working.
Ha! That ought to do it!
Fuck.. come on..
“Slave”. It was a weak attempt, but anything at this point was better than nothing.
“That too. Name-calling doesn’t bother me, sweetheart. I was called that and a lot worse in school, so..”
Fuck. Of course. School.
My heart softened for a moment, of course. For a second, I was even disgusted at myself. I didn’t actually mean any of it. I didn’t want to harm him, or upset him, or offend him in any way.
When we got to bed, the fight carried on for a short while. Seizing my chance, I flipped and pinned him, teasing the soft, smooth skin on his hip with my lips.
“What do you want, Wolf?” I purred,
Finally, in control again.
“What do you want?” he asked, wrapping his fingers in my hair.
Oh this was perfect, if he thought he was in control.. well..
I licked him softly, feeling his velvety smooth skin in my mouth, Hmm, perfect.
“Ah! Did I say you could?” he asked, pulling me back sharply by my hair.
“Watch” he commanded, forcing me to stare at what I so craved the most.
I squirmed, mewled and growled. I wanted, I needed, He’d taken control from me again, and control was mine. Mine.
“Please, Sir?” I whimpered, finally resigned.
“Good girl” he whispered, rewarding me with what I yearned for.
I slept peacefully through the night, only waking abruptly this morning at the sound of his mobile phone walking across the bedside table. It might not have been exactly the way I anticipated for things to go, and yet, it sort of didn’t need to be.