I’ve had a very stressful past couple of weeks. A combination of family emergencies, work stress, and a feeling of spreading myself too thin with all of my obligations.
Often I’ll be at work and I’ll feel a pull to escape. I’ll just want to be in the comfort of the tiny space that is our world when Sade and I are alone. Wether we’re cuddled up watching Stephen Fry on the BBC, laughing our asses off at who knows what or doing something frisky.
It’s in those more stressful moments where I’ll feel a desire for more than cuddle time. I’ll feel the need to be taken. Sometimes that need is to be bent over and fucked by her, sometimes it’s to be beaten until I collapse. To lose myself in my submission to her.
It’s not just in the intimacy and the agression of it all. It’s also a need to not be stuck in my own head, juggling a million things at once. When she takes me, everything else dissolves away.
A few weeks ago she could tell I was overwhelemd with everything. It was just after midnight, I was taking a break from some of my freelance work to wash the dishes and she looked at me and told me to get into the bedroom.
She knew I needed a release and after a good round of spanking, whacking, flogging and other torments, she ordered me to cry.
The release was exactly what I needed even though I didn’t know it beforehand.
I needed to cry, to have a break from the work and feel the closness of us, to let everything but us fade away for even a moment.
It not only helped with the stress of the night but the stresses of the coming days.
I’m still not certain how that works, but it does.
