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The Chair The Chair I have always knelt for him. At first, it was a lesson in patience that I struggled with. After collaring, He would have me kneel on a small round rug while he took his shower or settled his tools for our evening. Sitting there, watching, knowing what was next, making me wet sometimes embarrassingly down my thighs, a true slut in abandon, waiting. He could be torturous in the<b> domination </font></b>of my mind well before he ever took my body. Sometimes he would take before I made it through the door. It was that night the chair became our meditation. There was an expectation from Him always that I wear only a skirt and blouse when I come to him. That my long dark hair is always worn down and that every expectation I have be left at the door. Once I walk in, unless I use my safe word, our world is his choices, his needs, his pleasure. Sometimes it would take minutes to stand there, letting it all go, preparing before I could walk in. Sometimes I would walk in and he would have me stand there for minutes. This time I opened the door and he was there to greet me, hands in my hair, kissing me roughly, deeply. Fingers entwined pulling down as he encircled my throat. Deeper still his tongue invading. The only thing to do, what I do, what I love and crave, submission. Going limp with trust and need of darker cravings. Knowing those needs were socially unacceptable, the world would be horrified. But in my heart I am his slut. He took me roughly that night. There in the living room whipping me until I was red and thickly welted. He used my throat and overwhelmed my senses before dinner where we ate at the table, him fully dressed. Me naked, collared and he with his hand on the leash. So exposed, so naked having a lovely conversation and wine... I was overwhelmed. My ass welted and bruising, his bite marks black and rising on my shoulder, exposed. Him so charming and easy. Luckily for me a remarkably kind Dom he pulled my leash gently toward him and I knelt, head in his lap and wept. Him gently running his hands up and down my arms. His fingers massaging my scalp. He spoke to me so gently. There with my head on his chest, kneeling, feeling so safe and loved. Something within that moment happened. Both of us recognizing a door had opened and our D/s dynamic. We had added trust, therefore, further. His slut, his. In the following days, months we used all chairs in hotel rooms, in his house and mine. We had our favorites and our love of our time there was our golden hour. A new and different facet of our deepening D/s relationship. One day perusing the resale store he came upon the chair. A deep, rich leather chair so obviously well made and well cared for. Looking down the isle I hadn't noticed his pleasure until I heard underneath the hustle of the world around us, "sub" and I turned. So pleased with myself for hearing and in the smile on his face I immediately moved toward him. As I walked up I mentioned what a beautiful chair he had found. As he reached for my hand smiling he quietly stated, "Kneel." I was so startled! He had never asked for an outward show of our mutual proclivity in BDSM. We were not that outward show of a couple. And so, in what seemed like a slow free fall I knelt. My knees on the cold concrete floor, my arms went round him and my head reached his chest. I was in submission in full view of the world. His hands running over my hair, kneading my shoulders he spoke quietly of his pleasure. How I had so done well, doing as he chose so quickly. Good girl. As I sat there not seeing the reactions of the people surrounding us, just hearing his low voice speaking love in my ear, I found myself relaxing into his desire, finding my path with him, accepting his need as my own. He asked if I liked the chair and I quickly said yes. I had found it to be the most wonderful of chairs, smiling up at him. Lifting his hand for me to rise, He stood holding my hand warmly. Off to buy the chair. It sits in his bedroom next to his bed. The small round rug now directly in front. It is my favorite place. A place for submission of the mind and spirit. Although it is not always gentle there, using the crop to redden my ass as I kneel. Plunging his hands in my hair forcing himself further down my throat as I kneel, holding me close after he takes everything I have and more writhing on his fist. The chair is a place of whispers of love and grace. A place of giving and receiving. A place of submissive treasures. I lay my head on the chest of my lover in total surrender of his nature and desire. His. ~R |
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Welcome to the blogs. Best to you. "One Big Sky Covers Us All Equally"
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Very well-written. Thanks for sharing.
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well said... very erotic and exciting !
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