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Crying Crying I’ve always viewed myself as a really emotional person. It’s never taken much to hurt my feelings, to scare me, to concern me. I’ve always wished that wasn’t true. I’ve always wished I could be cool, calm and collected all the time but that just isn’t who I am. I can sort of maintain composure in front of other people, but I remember being in third grade and going to the bathroom to cry. I’ve made it through funerals and weddings without anyone seeing me cry despite my high emotions only to fall apart the second I’m alone. For whatever reason, I’ve always had this really intense desire to avoid crying or expressing anxiety in front of others. There is this voice in my head that just says “you CANNOT cry right now.” if I get upset in front of people. It just doesn’t seem like an option, period. From the beginning of our relationship @cynicaldom has been an exception to the rule. I let him see me emotional. Or maybe it wasn’t really the very beginning, but certainly early on. I remember being a little panicked the first time he knocked on the door while I was crying in there. “Are you crying?” “…no.” “Come on.” “What? I’m just peeing.” “No. You aren’t. You’ve been in there too long. And your voice sounds funny.” Shit. Nobody ever had called me out like that. I won’t lie. I kept trying to cry in private most of the time. After that first time, I’d do it in a shower or bath to hide the noise a little better. It only worked sometimes. Other times he’d catch on and knock on the door. But that desire to guard my heart when I was sad was strong. It still is sometimes. Entering D/s didn’t make CD more supportive of my emotions, he always was. It didn’t erase my inclination to try to be independent and distant when I’m sad, the instinct is still there, and sometimes it still wins. But having our dynamic structured with rules and daily expectations makes it really glaringly obvious when either one of us is “off”. It’s harder to hide behind my wall of “No, really, I’m fine.” when he can see that I’m dragging my feet on my rules. When I’m not struggling emotionally, I don’t think twice about any of my rules or tasks. When I’m emotional they take so much more effort. I have to pep talk myself into doing what is expected of me, and he sees that shift in me. I find myself wanting to ask for permission to skip rules more frequently. And when he holds firm I struggle with that too, even though the logical side of me knows it’s exactly what I need. CD is okay with me not having a smile on my face and a pep in my step when doing chores or tasks. He appreciates that I put the work in even when it’s hard. But he sees the difference between my normal self and my “just going through the motions because I have to because these are the rules” self. I don’t have the acting skills to hide that truth. Sometimes I want to, desperately. Recently, I think it was primarily hormones that were to blame. CD woke up, I heard him and went in to join him. He was laying on his back. I climbed on top of him, legs straddled to the sides. He ran his hands over my back while we talked. Then both hands end on my ass. I push my hips, pushing deeper into his hands. “I’m horny,” I say quietly, shyly. “Yeah?’ he says with teasing in his voice. He raises a knee between my legs. I grind against it. He continues rubbing my back, squeezing my ass. We cuddle this way for quite a while. My stomach growls loudly. We laugh and the conversation turns to food. We move to the kitchen. I’m happy. Not just normal happy, particularly happy. I stand in front of CD and look up at him grinning. “What is it, Toy?” he says. It catches my ear because I don’t think he’s ever called me just Toy before. His voice was so sweet. My heart melts. I blush and squirm. It was a rhetorical question. He knows I’m horny and just seeking more attention. He turns me around so that he is behind me, and dry humps me. One fist in my hair and the other hand around my neck. Then into my ear “Do you like to be used?” he asks. “Yes, Sir!” I reply, grinding back against him. “Oh really? You didn’t give my cock any attention. Are you sure you weren’t just looking to cum yourself? Maybe you don’t want to be used…” His voice is the teasing tone again. He continues manhandling me and groping me. I push out moaning sounds to try to play along but my heart has dropped and my mind is in a completely new place. Emotionally I’m frozen in panic. Why didn’t it occur to me to stroke him? Or to ask to suck his cock? I’m too selfish. He thinks I don’t care about his pleasure. What is wrong with me? I was so fucking happy 2 minutes ago and now I’m an emotional lunatic. Why does he even like me? Yet even in the moment, I know this is anxiety. I try pep talking myself. We specifically have guidelines in place for the expressed purpose of preventing me from worrying about whether I pleasure him enough. He instigates what he wants when he wants it. That’s supposed to be the end of the story. My anxiety doesn’t always listen to that. I try to move on to cooking and eating but the anxious button in my brain is stuck on. My pep-talking isn’t working. I know I need his reassurance but I feel that urge to go cry in the bathroom. He just woke up. He doesn’t want to deal with my stupid emotions. What a terrible way to start his day. Yet I can tell that I'm “faking it” poorly. I’m not looking at him enough or something. His eyes are lingering on me too long, analyzing me. He can tell something’s wrong. Once the food is finished I convince myself to go to him. He’s in his chair. I sit facing him, in his lap, my legs straddling his. The side of my face against his shoulder. I try to come up with words but I can’t. He asks what’s wrong. “I’m having anxiety.” “About what?” It’s a long pause before I find words. “What you said about not touching you. Did you think I was a being selfish?” “Oh! No. No, no, no. Of course not…” He says it so earnestly. I feel so much better. The logical side of my brain knew he was trying to tease me. We’ve been on tease and denial for a couple of days. He was just teasing me about being desperate and for not having my pussy used. Yet getting confirmation helps so much. But this lingering emotional heaviness is still on me. I stay sitting with him for a while and shed a couple of silent tears onto his shoulder but I don’t let myself really cry. I don’t want to. I feel like such a pain already. He doesn’t need to hear me cry, too. I decide I have myself together enough to go on about my day so I stand up. He has other plans. He takes my hand and starts walking towards our bedroom. When he leads me to the bedroom he’s either going to fuck me or spank me. Logically I know with all this teasing it won’t be to fuck me. Yet I’m hoping it is. Not because I’m horny, but because I know I’ll cry if he spanks me. I don’t want to cry. I can’t cry. I can’t cry. I can’t cry. When he pulls me to my side of the bed I know that means spanking. I take a deep breath and make a pact with myself to hold it in. Once I am over his knee he leans over towards the closet and opens a drawer that holds our implements. He doesn’t like me to look at what he’s going to use so I keep my head straight. On the first blow, I know what paddle it is. It’s a mean one. I’m a little shocked. Why use a mean paddle when I’m so sensitive today? I know I stand no chance of holding my tears in. I try to fight it. I get angry for a minute. Angry that he picked a mean paddle. Angry that I’m not tougher, stronger, that I don’t have a higher pain tolerance. In my bout of anger, I reach back to block. He grabs my hand and pins it to my back so fast. That makes me angry too. I’m stuck. It’s that helpless feeling that forces me to let go. So I cave, and I cry. I cry for just a few seconds when he slips the paddle back into the drawer. My thoughts go 80 miles an hour again. I stop crying. Did he get weirded out because I cried so easily? Does he think he did something wrong? Why is he ending the spanking so soon? Why couldn’t I hold it together longer? I’m waiting on my two butt pats, which he does to give me permission to stand. They don’t come. Hard swats do. He lays into me with his hand. Occasionally after a paddling, he’ll give me a few really hard ones with his hand. But this isn’t like that. This is a solid hand spanking, fast and steady. My brain is too busy trying to make sense of this. He never goes back to his hand after a paddle. I’m confused. He works down to my sit spot, my lower butt, and upper thighs. He lingers there. He knows the easiest way to get me to tears with his hand is at that spot on my thighs. Is that the point? Was his point with all of this to help me cry? I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter because it hurts too much and I cry again. He spanks me a while and I keep crying. He stops and I cry still. He leaves me over his lap as I finish crying and regain composure. I feel so much better. He hugs me afterward and I squeeze him extra tight. As tight as I can, so that my arms start to tremble. Partly to make him laugh. Partly because I want to thank him for helping me cry. He’s not shaken by my crying or my anxiety at all. It doesn’t seem awkward. He’s just his usual self. I shouldn’t be surprised. He always handles my craziness well. His demeanor is calm and warm. That night as I got ready to go to bed I felt the need to address it. I knew if I just apologized for being emotional he would dismiss it. He never lets me apologize for my emotions. So instead I say “I wish I wasn’t so emotional.” He shrugs. “It might take a couple days but it will pass. You’re okay.” He pinches my cheek, one of his favorite ways of showing affection. I shouldn’t be surprised by how content he seems, despite the emotional waves from the day. It still does surprises me though. I hope someday I’ll stop being surprised, and will accept that he really is just this safe, this non-judgmental, this sweet. I don’t need to cry in the bathroom anymore. He is my safe place. Amysubmits~ "Men need to hunt. She obviously understands this. She’s offering herself as prey. Not easy prey. But willing.” |
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what an amazing safe place
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Just Lovely and Amazing "Men need to hunt. She obviously understands this. She’s offering herself as prey. Not easy prey. But willing.”
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