Talk

As the poem might have made you guess, I had a quite an interesting weekend. Friday was roleplaying night, with T and a good friend. It was great and ofcourse we didn't go to sleep until early Saturday morning.

Saturday was the "main" event of the weekend, with my first ever so called Cruising Event. It's a party at the local BDSM club that is designed specifically to let people play a lot. The main room is divided into several smaller cubicles by the way of camuflage webs. So the "walls" are partially see-through and you may walk around and watch people in action when you aren't busy playing yourself.

Corvus picked me up at half past six, one and a half hour before the party was due to begin, because I'd wanted to talk with him. I'd made a list of topics I wanted to raise. The most important of wich was the issue of ownership. What did those keys he gave me mean to him? It turns out, he'd also thought somewhat symbolically. And again I was surprised at how well in sync we seem to be. At this point, nothing is set in stone. However, we agreed on a few points that I think are fairly important:
1. When we play, I'm boss. I own him. (Ofcourse, he can still use stop words, that's a given.)
2. When we aren't in play sessions, I can still give him the occational prick to remind him of that I excist and of what we have together...
Such as a text message ordering him to do something, simply because I want him to. Or an e-mail giving an instruction for the following day. It could be something pointless, like what colour socks to wear or that he has to jump up-and-down three times sometime between two and three pm. (Or it could, eventually, be something less pointless. But we haven't gotten that far yet...)
3. He is my submissive. My plaything. Just as outlines by the previous points. However, I can not, and will not:
a. in a signfificant way interfere with his job, family or friends.
b. "out" him to anyone he doesn't want to know.
c. in a significant way interfere with his economy or belongings.
So whilst I do "own" him, in the sense that I decide over him with regards to BDSM, I do not actually own him. He is his own person. I have no wish to take over his life, only influence it.

During this talk, I also discovered that he seems to be significantly more balanced as a person than I expected. Whilst he's had a brush or two with depression, he doesn't have particulary low self-esteem. He thinks of himself as relativly average, as far as looks and brains go (which is an fairly correct assessment, I think). He knows he's good at his job. He's been through one serious relationship, meaning that he's done all that comes with something like that. Including the love, the heart-ache and all that jazz.

Why did this apparent normality surprise me? Well, because so far I've been a weirdo-magnet. And the kinds of weirdos that typically catches my interest, as friends or something more, are the people who have the worst self-esteem ever. People who, in some way or another, are mentally fucked-up. Or perhaps who should have been. People who, if they were houses, would need much more than just a bit of paint and some new furniture before they were ready for the open market. Sure, Corvus is far from perfect, but he isn't as messed up as I expected him to be.

He is a fairly normal, fairly stable guy who doesn't need constant reassuring from me and anyone close to him. It a welcome respite. I can relax with him, and not worry so much, not wach as carefully every word I say. This also, ofcourse, enables me to focus more fully on other things... Such as pushing his limits (and stretching my own). Experiencing new and exhiting things together. And I like it.

Anyhow, on Saturday we played. I took him upstairs to the private dungeon, and finally managed to get him totaly naked. No corset, no underwear, no nothing. The contrast of a clothed woman and a naked man is not lost on either of us. He's definitly in a more vulnerable position. We also discovered that his belly and sides are incredibly tickelish. He wears a corset 23/7, so the skin underneath isn't exposed to the normal fricktion of clothing moving about and such. Thus it's a lot more sensitive. Sensitive = fun. At least for me. :P

The playing made him completely exhausted. Don't really know why, and neither does he. It was odd. Anyhow, I didn't let him drive home, but put him to bed in our guest room in stead. I'm very glad T was ok with that.

The next morning, I got up pretty early (at least concerning how late we'd gone to bed), because I wanted to play some more. Corvus was half asleep when I came in, but woke up quickly enough when I started typing him to the bed. He wasn't let go until over two hours had passed.

The afternoon that Sunday was spent alone with T. I was terribly tired, almost falling asleep on the couch several times. However, I managed to stay awake until the evening. And despite my tiredness, T and I ended up having sex somehow. This time we took the time for me to orgasm too. Usually, I'm just not patient enough to bother with it. I just want him in me, just want to be close to him. As close as it's possible to get. I love that. But this time, as I said, I came. And on my last contracting spasm, so did he. It was lovely. He is lovely. I love him.