Posted by: littlegirlyone | February 14, 2007

emotional control

I am a thinker – If there’s one thing I know, it’s that I have a tendency to over analyze and over think everything. John is a very intelligent man, but he’s not a compulsive thinker like I am. We’ve talked about this before, how he’s a very focused thinker, a compartmentalizer, and how he likes it that way. This is one of his traits that drives me crazy, both because I find it incredibly annoying (he works at work, husbands to his wife, Daddys to me, and there is no blurring!) and incredibly hot (he really has that much control over himself, it makes me feel quite powerless.)

This contrast is like everything else about us: the difference is both attractive and excruciating. I drive him nuts with my long morning-after emails (I think, although, he’s never told me not to send them) and my need to know more about him and if he’s happy. Yet, I know he also loves the control he feels in denying me, making me stew in my neediness, and beg for such assurances. Take last week: we were at the end of our time (a very erotic, but frustrating time for me, which deserves its own post). I was lying on the bed, under a sheet, wearing nothing but ruffled ankle socks and a pair of maryjanes. I was lying on my stomach, he was sitting on the edge next to me, fully dressed and about to leave. He ran his hand across my ass, slowly, and I sighed and moved against his palm, begging him with my movements to touch me more, to pet me. He raised his hand up and smacked me, hard. I looked up at him and asked him to do it again. I really, really, really wasn’t ready to have him go, and I was doing everything in my power to make him stay. Lips and eyelashes. Pouting. Big eyes. He just laughed and stood up.

When I tried to complain that I must be losing my touch, he turned around, strode back over to me, and slapped me across the face. Then he took my face in his hand, stared right into my eyes, and said, “if I let you manipulate me like that, this whole thing would fall apart.”

I thought about that. Even though I was disappointed, I knew in my heart he was right. I have a very equal relationship at home, with a man who loves me, and who gives in to my big eyes and pouting all the time. The reason I wanted a Daddy to begin with was that I needed someone who would push me, and who wouldn’t let me push back in my little girl ways. I don’t want to top from the bottom, but that doesn’t stop me from pushing the limits, seeing what reaction I get, testing him. I suppose that is one way in which I am truly like a real little girl. At this point, John and I don’t have any formal rules, and I still brat out at him in our interactions sometimes because I like to see him resist me, even though it hurts my feelings. It also makes me want him that much more.

All of this is a long introduction to an email I wrote a few months ago, but never sent. The question of this email was: if he’s so controlling, does he allow himself to replay our sessions? Basically, does he think about me when he’s gone for months on end, or is that just like a cement wall?

The question itself is interesting. I think because he’s human, and a guy, that the answer should be yes. He must have needs, and he must think about something when he’s fulfilling those needs, and I imagine I’ve been convenient at some point. On the other hand, he’s the most controlled person I’ve ever met. He told me he went for three years without having sex because he couldn’t have it the way he wanted to have it, so maybe not? Maybe it’s all as delineated as it seems with him, and there’s a little switch for time with me that he flicks off the minute he walks out the door.

Needless to say, I am NOT like that. Leaving a session with John, I know there will be replays for a good week afterward, and some of the times we’ve had together have lasted even longer in my imagination. So, in this email (that I never sent to him because one of my assignments from him is to work on developing my patience) I described some of my favorite replays from the last time we’d been together.

Since I’ve been reminded (thanks persephone!) that I have 100 pre-written pages to post here, and I therefore have no excuse not to update regularly, here you all go.

First of all, I am not sure I’m going to send this to you. I rather like the thought of proving I can not email you for a month. I know I can do it, and I want to show you I can. But, then there is the confessional part of me. I really like spilling my thoughts to you, for you. This is a question: I know that you said that you are able to compartmentalize your life, in terms of working at work, and playing at play and not mixing the spheres, so to speak, but does that mean you don’t do replays? Ever? Like, when you walk out of the hotel room after a night like last night, do you really just let it go, and not think about it again, not savor any of it on mental replay, not even sometimes? Because I guess you can imagine that I am not like that. In fact, mental replays are a total staple in my fantasy life. They are also the only way I can go a month without seeing you again.

So since I spent all day playing back my favorite moments from last night, I thought you might like to know what they are. I find it rather erotic to hear about things I do that other people find a turn on, so I am banking on you enjoying my confession of what parts I liked best.

1. You pushing me backwards on the bed, sliding your hand under my skirt, fingering my pussy. . . Your mouth on mine, and the way you slide your tongue inside my mouth and push down on me while you kiss me, and let me bite your lower lip.

2. You allowing me to undress you, telling me what to take off, when. Unexpectedly, this was very, very hot. I loved following your directions, and I think the anticipation of what was coming, getting your shoes and socks off, unbuttoning your shirt, taking my time to remove your clothing. The whole experience made me feel very submissive.

3. Me sitting on the floor at your feet, looking up at you holding your cock in your hands. Sitting and waiting for you to feed me your cock. And then, finally, licking you, sliding you into me, tasting your precum. Looking up at you with your cock in my mouth, especially when you pushed it all the way to the back and held it there. And this one time, after I gagged, and my throat relaxed around you, you told me to look at you. As I looked up, I just felt incredibly sexy with your cock in my throat, looking into your eyes. Something about your patience and your tenderness with me last night made me want to get even better at swallowing your cock. I actually get quite frustrated about the gagging, even though it also turns me on when I do it. I want to be a perfect throat slut, and I have to keep trying until I achieve the ideal cocksucking technique that will allow you to fuck my face the way you want to.

4. You pulling out from fucking me, and shoving your cock back in my mouth. Oh, oh, oh. I mean, yum! And then later, as you came all over my face and in my mouth. Thank you, Daddy.

5. You lying on top of me, unexpectedly biting my nipple (HARD) and then pulling up the sheet.

6. You telling me that you weren’t going to fuck my ass. Oh, I was so humiliated at the thought that I might have to beg you for it.

7. Sometimes, the way you call me a bitch is really hot. I can’t tell if I’m being too bratty and am really in trouble, or if you just enjoy saying it to me sometimes. Usually, I hate that word, but for some reason, when you say it, I get excited.

So, there’s the replay list from last night. It’s not exhaustive, but it hits the biggies, for sure. Next time I play with one of my toys, you can bet you will be there in my mind.


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