Some say love, it is a river, that drowns the tender reed
Some say love, it is a razor, that leaves your soul to bleed
Some say love, it is a hunger, an endless aching need
I say love, it is a flower, and you, its only seed
Lyrics from The Rose by Bette Midler
Some weeks ago I wrote a post about rituals, but those were not the D/s kind of rituals. Those were about my blog and my every day rituals, and the things that help me stay organized, keep my feet on the ground and feel like a sane person.
There are, however, other rituals I need too.
The most important of them all have to do with kissing. From the moment Master T and I engaged in a relationship, we had the habit to greet each other with a kiss in the morning, and just before I turn over to go to sleep, we kiss too to wish each other a good night. But, that’s not the only ‘ritualistic’ kissing we do. When I leave the house in the morning to go to work, I greet him with a kiss, and when I get back again in the afternoon, I greet him with a kiss again. We will be married for 14 years on 1 November this year, and lived in the same house since 6 August 2004, which is when this ritual started. I don’t think we will ever stop with it, not now, and not when we are both grey and wrinkled and barely able to walk. And yes, of course we kiss in other ways too!
Another ritual which I don’t ever want to be without, and which has dragged me through the difficult years we had (which are still not entirely over) is the one where when we go to bed at night, Master T puts my sleep collar around my neck. There were nights when he didn’t do it (when I was sick or when there’s a heatwave outside), but for 99% of all nights he and I have spent together since we started our D/s, he has put the night collar on me. I love it. I love the feeling of it, the way it reminds me that I am his. It’s like he claims me as his each time he fastens the buckle behind my neck.
Now that the cane and some whips have made their appearance again a couple of weeks ago, I can include this ritual here too. When Master T canes or whips me, he always tells me to count back from 10 (or 15/20 or whatever number he comes up with). But, I always get one stroke more than he says I will get. For instance, if I count back from ten, there’s 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1 and 0. See, that’s 11. I always tell him at 1 that it’s done, but then he says we haven’t had zero yet, so I need to stay in position. Even me telling him that I’ve had the number he has decided on, and he tell me we haven’t had zero yet, has become a ritual. I know what he is going to say, and I know he knows I am going to tell him we have reached his chosen number. Sometimes, when it really, really, really hurts, I have to do my best to not be upset about the extra stroke, but mostly it makes me smile that this is just ‘our thing’.
It was only when I started writing this that I realized that very last orgasm he always draws from me has become something of a ritual too. You know, every time he fingers me, and every time he draws that huge orgasm from me, he always wants one more. Hw knows once I had that BIG O, I can barely handle having my clit touched, but he always tells me to keep my legs spread and then ever so softly he touches my clit, making me squirm and moan and throw my head from side to side, until I can’t do anything else but surrender to the overwhelming feelings in my body. And, where I always remember that I am going to get that one extra stroke of the cane or whip, I always forget that he is going to draw one more orgasm from me.
The most important of ritual Master T and I have is that we are always there for each other. Through thick and thin. Through sickness and health. Always. I have never thought I could love a man as completely as he does, but I do. I can’t imagine my life without him, and our silly rituals, such as:
Me: I love you.
Him: I love you too.
Me: I love you three.
Him (sighing): Yes, you do.
Me: I love you.
Him: Everybody loves me!
Me: But I love you the very much most!
Him: Yes, you do!
And for those who wonder: yes, we then really talk English to each other, and I always add a silly accent!
We have more of this kind of silliness, and many times we look at each other and say: we will never grow up. And we never will, as we will always be able to laugh together, no matter what, and that really is the best ritual to have!
© Rebel’s Notes