12 Days of Kinkmas 2018 – Day #1: ‘Olives’

blindfolded

There are volumes unspoken when she asks if he can place the olive into her mouth himself.

Outside the boundaries of their existence, wind howls and rain lashes at the windows. Inside, the only noise comes from her wet lips as she parts them gently. Otherwise, if there were other forces, other creatures occupying the same space, they were not stirring like these two.

He didn’t like olives at all – the texture, the taste – the horrid salty bitter taste that seemed to evolve in his mouth after taking it in.
What even was that change in taste that crept up on you?
So when he ordered the pizza – Joe’s Special – without the olives, lo and behold, maybe to spite him, maybe because it was late on a Friday, maybe because it was close to Christmas, business was booming and the maker was exhausted, the olives were here after all. Mocking him, as they lay scattered across the topping.
When she said she’d have them, he started peeling them off and placing them on a clean plate.
No, she had said, turning to him, looking at him with her green eyes that seemed to come alive and deepen, feed them to me.

He hesitated, looking at her, a lock of sandy blonde hair covering her left eye, a mischievous grin spreading across her face like light streaming in slowly through a window. She stood so close to him he could smell her – not the ghost of her perfume from work – no, her. Her scent.

Suddenly he became aware of more – the outline of her nipples through her grey singlet, the shape of her breasts as she leaned inward to him, looking at him with the intensely lit green eyes.

And her lips…

When he placed the first olive into her mouth, he did so timidly. She giggled, and it was like the old cliché – like music to his ears. When he placed the second olive into her mouth, he noticed her tongue dart out ever so smoothly to pull the olive into her mouth.
He watched her, curious, as she swallowed and look back at him, waiting patiently.
What was behind her eyes, he wondered. There was mischief, yes, that much was in her smile, in the way her eyes focused up on him from where she stood. There was something else though. A seed planted.

Suddenly he wasn’t standing before her in their kitchen anymore, suddenly he was in some darkened corner of space-time where she was taking his cock into her mouth – and he could feel her. Her wet lips coating his shaft with her own saliva, he could feel her moan vibrate around him as she took his length in. He could hear her lips smack – in eagerness? In catching a breath? – As he pulled out of her. He could see it in her eyes that she wanted it again – hungrily, breathlessly, desperately.

Yet he was standing in the kitchen, her opposite him, her mouth parted gently, waiting for the next olive, her eyes glossy, mischievous, wondering – in space-time? Perhaps.

 

The different meanings of being Dominant

 

Every so often, I stop and think about what it means exactly, for someone to be Dominant. And I get so caught up thinking about myself and my past and my future and how – in the present – I interact with my kitten. There’s a good and bad aspect to this for me.
The good side is that it allows me to reflect. Reflection is good. We get so caught up in our daily lives that we miss simple truths. Or sometimes we grow. Yes, we grow in mere months. Our tastes expand. What I wrote at the beginning of the blog you can find under “His Journals” and I am sure if I read that, I would add to it…and add to it….and add to it. I could keep adding and adding to it that it drove me mad. Here’s where the bad side of it comes in.

I’m sure I could think myself to death. Part and partial of having anxiety is that you think…and overthink…and overthink. It’s like a broken record. You go around and around and around thinking and analysing and coming to the truth, only it’s not the truth, there’s always a piece of information you missed, which means more thinking and more analysing. So I am going to add upon what I’ve said about the Dominant aspect and I’ll try my best to explain it and then somehow fight my compulsive behaviour to revisit and edit. Sigh. Bear with me.

But how is a person Dominant? It’s not just that he/she can top you in bed. Oh  no. Although, to be fair, there’s that. Which brings me to my next point: There’s a Dominant for the bedroom, maybe even outside, and then there’s a Dominant for the lifestyle.

The Dominant within the bedroom just wants to top sexually. They might even want to toy with the idea of owning you outside of the bedroom, purely for a sexual thrill. Like – wearing no panties to work or choosing your outfit for you. That sort of thing.

It’s when it begins to be not just about a sexual thrill but something far richer and deeper that it wanders into the territory of the ‘lifestyle’. And this is where a D/s relationship might come into play. The Dominant that wants in on the lifestyle is the Dominant I am, to use a personal example. If you’ll allow me to be more personal, it’s not enough that I dominant kitty in the bedroom. As wild and passionate and exhilarating that is, I need more. Because that side within me wants the tender love and ownership and control of the person out of the bedroom more than it does within.

It is insane the desire that fuels me to stroke her head and tuck her in. To want to read to her (We’re currently powering through Alice’s adventures in Wonderland of a night). To teach her to build up her confidence and let go of the chains. To nurture her and be a teacher to her. It extends to the symbolism of the collar. This desire to have her wear both a social collar, for privacy reasons in the workplace, and her own collar around the house. Why the desire to collar? Because she’s beautiful, sacred — fucking MINE. (And I can’t even begin to DESCRIBE the surge of possessiveness that came through my body writing that sentence). This beautiful, soulful kitten is mine. Those tender blue eyes, her gigantic ever-giving heart? MINE. Mine to protect.

And I love that. And I want to be her guardian and protector and I want to see that cute choke-worthy neck don that collar. It’s a complicated mess of emotions.

And that, for me, is Dominance within the lifestyle. A complicated mess of emotions, ranging from the deeply loving to the deeply brutal.

Now, of course, you can’t just define Dominance down to two categories – in the bedroom and deeper. I will, however, admit to disliking the individual that poses as a false Dominant when all they really want is sex. This angers me because, to me, that isn’t right. And it’s treating this beautiful man or woman as a cheap tool to which they will use to get off. NO. FUCKING NO. But I digress.

Every Dominant out there is going to take what a D/s lifestyle means to them and alter it how they want to because it suits them. It likes…parallel universes. Right now, there could be a parallel universe where I’m not writing but rather hanging out with my dogs because I felt you guys didn’t want another long-winding post. For every direction made, another universe is created in which the opposite choice is made. It’s science fiction but it’s kinda like that, every person shapes what’s being defined by other people as D/s and Dominant — to fit their life and it’ll go on and on like this for years, long past your existence or mine.

It’s complicated, it’s messy, it’s being Dominant. So if you find a growing interest in BDSM, if these interests start to go outside of the bedroom and start materialising in your personality and in your desire towards your partner or you’re own mind, then it’s the lifestyle for you. And the journey begins.

But, of course, it’s never that simple, is it?