Gratitude

Fast and furious...Like a gun run. That's how he described it afterward.

I am grateful that I got it. My fix. And grateful that he didn't savage me. I wondered if he would. It was just enough. Rough enough that it was clear that he meant business.Clear that it was for him, his choice, and not just cause i asked him to feed my addiction.

A dash of humiliation that rattled me. Surprised me. Made me squirm. He knows me so fucking well. But just a dash. A hint of what it might be if that was his focus.

But even together, pain and humiliation, fast and harsh, it didn't break me down.

It made me incoherent though. Wordless. Voiceless. Sometimes he asks me, during, what I want. I have no words. I don't know what I want.

When he took the clamps off me, I was grateful, oh so grateful that he did. I was afraid he'd put them back on, afraid he would need more, that he'd want to drag me around by them. I was sooooo ready for then to come off (about 30 minutes before they actually did!).

And when he took them off I thought he might start all over again. After all, they had already been off and back on once. So yes, I was scared.

But grateful.

I was ... emotional after. A bit teary. A bit connected. Very sweet and loving. He looked at me like a fond Daddy. Loving me. 

Thank you Sir.