The Dance

It rarely starts out rough. Normally it's a gentle touch or a caress. Sometimes, it's simply playing with hands or snuggling on the couch. Sometimes in the middle of kissing, it becomes rough with him grabbing my hair, or catching my hand and holding it. Occasionally there is a small amount of pressure and strength applied, others just a tiny bit. Sometimes it is sitting on a couch with us surrounded by people when he grabs my hand and bites gently. It's been known to happen that way and it be a sharp tug of my hair. Is it my submission he wants, is it to mark his property in some animalistic way, is it simply knowing he just managed to turn me on with some small gesture?

There are some days when just being around him puts me in a submissive state of mind. There are others when he has to work for it. Most of the time those "other" times are when I feel it too easily and am fighting it. There are any number of reasons to fight it. Sometimes it's because I have had to be really strict with the kids that day. It sometimes is because I had a fight with hubby. It even happens sometimes when I feel myself caring too much. During all of those, I need him to dominate me. I need him to remind me who is master and who is pet. I crave that. I so desperately need to feel important enough that he will fight for my submission, especially against my own will. At that moment, when I am thinking about it, I am never sure exactly who is in control. Is he bending to my will or am I to his?

We walk a very fine line. He refuses to push me to do things I don't want to do. The very nature of our relationship is to push our boundaries. There are definitely going to be occasions when the mental dance becomes a physical one. I have yet to figure out why I am able to submit to him but not to anyone else as deeply. He is well aware that as long as he continues to control me mentally, all is well. If he ever loses that mental dance, and I gain the upper hand, things will come to a sudden halt. Forever more, our relationship will change.

There are plenty of times when I ask him what he is thinking to be told, "No." When I immediately try to throw a fit, he gives me the look, the one that says, "do you really want to push me?" and I usually back off. It's the first time in a very long time that someone has given me the choice to win the battle but know I have lost it. He has remarked before that sometimes dealing with me is like dealing with my daughter. I can't help but laugh. He knows how much I like it when he refuses to give in, when he tells me no. I much prefer that over being given a choice with that damned smile. It's the smile that tells me I am truly fucked if I make the wrong decision.

I look to the future and am excited to think about all the potential directions we could go. It's scary as hell though to realize that one false move and I will be the cause of the entire fantasy coming crumbling to the ground.