Morning. Can I ask you about your part three post date with the talker? I read it last night. I confess I found it uncomfortable. It read like a disastrous session with you getting little pleasure. I want you to have fun and enjoy. I didn’t think being used regardless of your pleasure was your kink? Am I wrong? and at the end of the piece the tone changed and it’s like you did have a good time. So I am confused. it’s clear GrandMrT & the Talker look after you care and get great pleasure too. And not criticising them or you. Just puzzled.
The above was a comment from Tiggs after she had read the third part of our first date with the Talker. I assured her that I definitely had fun during the date and that I might not have brought that across properly in my posts. Then, the same day, The Talker contacted me and he too had questions. He thought I hated the date.
I decided that I needed to write a follow-up post, to explain, because there might be more people out there who think that I didn’t like the date or that Master T is not taking proper care of me.
I really enjoyed the date.
Master T takes perfect care of me.
Okay, so you have read the three posts? So, when you got to the third part, did you also think that I didn’t like what happened?
Let me explain…
I hate a mess. I hate to spill food on myself or for my mouth to be dirty. A perfect example is eating spaghetti. I almost never eat it, because I hate it when the spaghetti touches my chin or cheek. IF I eat it, I always cut the spaghetti in small pieces, and believe me, there’s always one piece I have missed and that will touch my cheek or chin. Hateful, I tell you! If I spill something on myself, I want to change into something clean, even if there’s only a small stain on my clothes. Even if I tell you that it’s okay, believe me, inside I am constantly thinking of the stain on my clothes.
Now, if you have been reading this blog for some time, you might remember that I love anal sex. But… yes, there’s a but… I am ALWAYS afraid that it would be a mess. No matter how well I have cleaned myself, I am always afraid that some fecal matter might end up on a plug or a finger, or worse, a penis. That afternoon with The Talker, exactly that happened. I was appalled, but since I was really enjoying the date, I pretended not to be appalled. Maybe I should have said something about it. Actually, after Tiggs’s comment I spoke to Master T about it. It was then that I wish that I had said something during the date, because Master T told me that while I was cleaning myself, The Talker said that things like that could happen.
But, I didn’t know these thoughts of him at the time of writing the post. I wrote about the facts and kept my feelings out of it, because even while I wrote it, I was still appalled by what had happened. I think that seeped into my post.
Tiggs had another question:
I didn’t think being used regardless of your pleasure was your kink?
I have never thought of being used as my kink, but in fact it is. I like being used. I like not having to think about anything, but just ‘undergoing’ whatever is being done to me. Within limits, of course, because I do have my limits after all. Master T knows all of those and if a boundary is crossed, will intervene.
When I was a child – I think these fantasies started around the same time as my sexual awakening – I imagined myself in a hospital bed. I was told to keep my arms to my side, above the covers, while ‘things’ were being done to me. Those ‘things’ got more and more complex as I grew up, and the covers disappeared. If someone asks me what I want them to do to me, I cannot tell them. The moment I have to answer the question, I cannot think of anything. You see, I have this other twist in my personality where if something is done to me because I have said I liked it, I’m afraid it only happens because I have said that I like it and that the person doing it to me might not like it too. Complicated? Yes, I know.
In the past years I have learned to say what I like and what I don’t like, but only in general terms. If I tell them in detail, it would spoil everything for me. It would not feel like I am being used for their pleasure, but it would feel like they are pleasing me. Does that even make sense?
That afternoon with The Talker, I was used. He did to me what he wanted to do. He brought me from laughing to crying to orgasm to resting to pain to begging and back to orgasm again. He was gentle and he was firm, he was a sadist and a kind lover. He used me and that made me happy. Master T watched me being used and I saw the pride in his eyes. That made me happy. I should have put my happiness about being used in my post too, but ‘the mess’ got in the way.
I might have to write about this more, about how I like to be used… if I can find the right words.
© Rebel’s Notes