Posted by: littlegirlyone | January 15, 2010

Killing the Flame, part 5

I lost myself again on his cock. Only this time, he had me by the hair. He had me by the hair, and he was fucking my face. He would thrust in and out quickly, his pubic bone hitting my lips, then he would slow down. Then speed up, then slow down. There wasn’t any rhythm to it, just whatever he felt like, I suppose. After a while, I stopped trying to do anything more complicated than keep my mouth open, and my teeth in check.

My mouth became a hole.

Occasionally, he’d give me some low instruction. My favorite of these was a tap on the underside of the chin while he pressed the head of his cock against the constricted back of my throat.

“All of it,” he reminded me.

I opened my throat, and felt the head of his cock push through that pink, muscled barrier, and fill me. He held himself there, then pulled back. That’s the part that makes me gag. Going in and staying put, I can usually control it. It’s the backstroke that gets me. He went back to fucking my mouth, then pushed against my throat again. I opened, he pressed. He pulled back. I gagged. We repeated.

Although I’m positive he enjoyed it, the first blowjob had been all about me. I did what I wanted. I felt that little rush of sexual power that comes when I know I’m turning someone out. I was very present,  driving the experience. This time was different. This time was all about him. He took full license to do whatever it was that he wanted. I didn’t do a thing except open up and take it. And although this absolutely turned me on, I was in a different headspace than I had been before.

Think of the first blowjob as a seduction. I lured him into me. I pulled. I sucked. I flicked and shimmied my way around. This blowjob, by contrast, was a surrender. The only coherent thought that went repeatedly through my head was about how I felt like a hole. I’m a hole, a hole, a hole… that was my mantra. I repeated it over and over, and I found that after a while, I became a bit disconnected.

Sometimes this happens to me when I feel totally objectified. I stop engaging and sort of drift away from my body. It’s a little bit dissociative. It’s like I float out and watch myself from the outside, the way victims sometimes describe memories of their trauma. I’m physically there, but I’m mentally in this very clinical, exterior place. I’m not emotionally attached anymore, I’m just a thing, a sextoy. And I’m not feeling that heavy arousal that I feel when I’m more engaged, but I know that I will later when I think about being a thing. That’s what happened here. I knew that this facefucking I was getting was going to set me on fire later on, but I didn’t feel much of anything in the moment.

I’m a hole, a hole, a hole.

In, out, all the way in, faster, slower. And on and on. Who knows how long I was like that.

And then, without warning, he pulled my mouth off him, tossed me to the side by my hair, and said “I’m going to go have a cigarette.”

I was immediately back in my body again, and I remember this hot flush of sexual energy flowing through me as I replayed what had just happened. It was real. And he had really just stopped playing with me because wanted a cigarette. I mean, that is just so hot. I was laying on my side, and I tucked my knees up to my chest and sort of rolled my pelvis in this squirmy way that I do when I’m really turned on by something. It was like, take my breath away hot.

And then, it wasn’t.

It was like a switch flipped: I went from luxuriating in the overwhelming hotness that was objectification to feeling trembly and needy and super duper emotional. This happened to me once before, with John. It went really badly that time because I was so overwhelmed and taken by surprise by my feeling, and he didn’t do feelings. I wasn’t allowed to have them, and he was really hard to deal with when I did. He became angry. He ignored me. And that left me an utter and complete wreck.

Alan had been very forthcoming about his feelings before we met up. And I had, too. We had promised to deal with feelings as they manifested during our time together with compassion and honesty. And so, I trusted him to keep his promise. I didn’t try to cover up my feelings too much while he was gone. I just felt. And when he came back, I spilled.

“What’s up, luv?” he asked.

“I’m, uhm. I’m having a little emo time,” I told him.

He made some affirmative noise as he sat next to me on the bed. “Wanna tell me about it?”

“Uhm,” I started. And then the tears welled. I stopped trying to talk, and focused on not crying. I looked at the wall. When I felt like I had that adequately controlled, I tried again. “I’m just wondering, you know. I mean, can you tell me if you’re happy? Can you just tell me if you’re ok? If everything is ok? Do you like this? Did I do something…?”

On the one hand, I was deflecting. I can see that now. I wasn’t ok, but rather than talk about that, I asked if he was ok. I guess I hoped that he would ask me back.

On the other hand, I was looking for assurances that he was really ok with this sort of power exchange-y stuff that was happening. I knew that he didn’t really have a lot of experience. I’m actually pretty sensitive to the idea of top drop. And I was legitimately worried that he might be feeling like he did something Bad. I guess because I sort of felt that way.

“Listen,” he said, “if you feel bad about what just happened, maybe it’s a sign.”

“A sign?” I was a little shocked. “Of what?”

“A sign that this stuff you like, this dark stuff, is really bad for you. It’s like, sick. It comes from a dark place, and it’s bad for you.”

That stung, but I knew that I couldn’t afford to fall apart now.

There was a time when I would have agreed with him, filled with shame and guilt for asking him to indulge my sick little fantasies. There was a time I might have cried and left, so convinced that he was right, that I was totally depraved and weird, and that now I had exposed him to it, and he was disgusted, and it was all my fault.

But I don’t actually believe that anymore, and I have to say, that’s one of the most positive gifts this blog has given me. I’ve spent nearly three years thinking about my submission, and where it comes from and what it means. I’ve made good friends that have talked to me ad nauseum about what my desires are, who have helped me to see that they’re not Bad. And I’m not ashamed. I know where where my submission comes from, and I know why it hits me where it does. And I know that it’s a beautiful, precious thing about me that might be too complicated for some people to understand, but that it’s not Bad; I’m not Bad.

I took a deep breath. “I totally disagree,” I said. “I know that my desires come from a deep psychological place, but I also know that they’re not bad for me. I know that playing with this part of me pulls out some vulnerability and insecurity sometimes, and that’s ok. It isn’t an indicator of me damaging myself. This kind of sex touches me more and deeper than regular sex, and if that’s not ok with you, we don’t have to go there anymore.”

I held it together. I didn’t cry. And although he was listening, I don’t think he heard me.

I tucked all my angst about the experience away, took another deep breath, and held on. Because I knew I had another space to process it. And for that, I was, and still am, deeply grateful.


Responses

  1. My god, well done for not crying! And really well done for setting him straight, that was awesome.To me its clear it wasn't you, or what you like that was bad, it was his lack of knowledge and being able to read the situation/your feelings correctly. (altho in his own way do you think he did genuinely mean well by his comments?)Up until his misunderstanding that was a hot post!I've never taken cock *really* deep in my throat, but the other day when i was playing by myself a clip you posted on your tumblr page came into my head & made me cum almost instantly….it was the one where it looks like you can see the cock moving inside girls throat…

  2. Good job on standing up for yourself!! I don't know if I would be able to with such grace and patience. I still get way too frustrated when people misunderstand my feelings like that.

  3. good for you again. i want to talk to you some more about this!! next week?

  4. Goddamnit.I have been reading this series thinking…well, this guy is kind of boring. And then he starts fucking your mouth at last and I'm doing my cheers from the bleachers, and then…it was all to teach you a Reader's Digest lesson about kink?How dumb, but also…how obnoxious and hypocritical to use someone's space of sexual vulnerability as an opening to invalidate the sex you just had with them.Aaaargh. I am annoyed with this boy.

  5. ditto to all that orlando said! and good for you for setting him straight. good for you for saying what you needed to, even though he may not have heard you. excellent post. so hot…then raw and honest…and always beautiful.

  6. I really enjoyed your writing. You have an ability to really bring the emotions you are feeling up front for the reader. It makes it more real, more elegant, especially against the backdrop of graphic sexual action. I thoroughly enjoyed this and will be reading more. Thank you.

  7. little girl? What happened to the bar bitch blog? I may have over looked it, but it wasn't there anymore. I was really enjoying that. Please, please let me know…

  8. sweetpea, i don't think that he meant to hurt me with his comments. i think he was genuinely concerned that my submission comes from a dark place (like a self-harm place) and didn't want to encourage me to hurt myself anymore. i don't blame him for having concerns or questions about that, but i do hold him responsible for not listening to my answer. and that clip from tumblr is one of my very favorite images. glad you liked it!kelsi, it's not my first instinct to be so calm. it's my first instinct to cry when i feel misunderstood. but i also didn't feel like crying would be safe, and it would have added to his "evidence" that D/s was dark and bad. i really didn't want to do that.orlando, i couldn't agree more. reminds me of the guy i lost my virginity to (happened to be catholic) telling me afterwards about how i was probably going to hell. (he wasn't though, because he could go to confession! ugh.)michael alexander, thanks! i love hearing from new readers, and i'm glad you find my writing enjoyable. it means a lot to hear it. thanks for commenting :)ashley, his bar bitch is still located at hisbarbitch.blogspot.com. it was working for me this morning. you do have to actually check the page or follow it to see new posts (you can't subscribe through a reader). and for those that are curious, you need an invitation to read it. that means you have to email me and tell me about you :)i'm sorry that this series is so all over the place. part of me feels guilty that it's like, hot and cold. but i wanted to write about the reality of the interaction, the good and the bad. so much of my D/s is fantasy-based. reality is different, harder, and sometimes hotter.

  9. where is that clip from your tumblr? I tried to find it the other day to show my bf and I couldn't…help! 😦

  10. Sacred (and anyone else who's curious)http://littlegirlyone.tumblr.com/post/280961486/heres-the-thing-about-this-i-cant-stop-staring

  11. Absolutely beautful writing.

  12. Looking for help in understanding this all better, so I have a few questions and I apologise in advance if I sound at all judgemental.I'm uncertain as to how one can so simply brush off very strong feelings as 'emo time' as though it pales in significance to this grand narrative of abusive sex. As if the sex were a life project that's going somewhere. Do you really think that was just 'emo time'? I think sex is there to be questioned, desires shouldn't be sanctified. By all means explored, but they are malleable too, not concrete.Why wouldn't someone prefer to have sex and its associated pleasures without any additional emotional pain? Moreover, when you fantasise about this losing control and objectification you suggest elsewhere that it's intensified by really believing that you have lost control and that you have become this almost dead thing. However, you KNOW that this isn't TRUE, because it is desired, so fundamentally you are still controlling what is done to you, whether you like it or not. So in some ways don't you think this whole culture of 'submission' is self-deluding and a barrier constructed by your fears in the way of a rawer sexual empowerment, a more selfish, self-confident approach to extracting pleasure.

  13. […] want to first address the concern and confusion about the dissociative experience I related in part 5, after Alan fucked my face and then tossed me to the side so he could have a cigarette. I want to […]


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