For the past three and a half years Master T has been struggling with his health. When in September 2016 he started having problems, there was no way for us to understand just yet how hugely his freedom of movement would be limited. How ‘small’ his world would become. In December 2016 he stopped driving the 60 odd kilometers to his work, because of the constant pain. In 2017 he was hit by a depression, and our D/s took a dive. I cared little about it at the time as my mom was ill, passed away and I was grieving. In 2018 I had many moments where I didn’t want to be here anymore. I grieved for my mom, but also for how much my life had changed. At the end of 2018 a session of EMDR helped me immensely, and in 2019 the loss of our life as it has been before September 2016 weighed heavily on me.
In September 2019, three years after all of this started, I thought we were back, but that was the same month Master T started on immune suppressants, and that stole his libido. He literally had no desire at all to even touch me. After a conversation between us in which I voiced some of my fears, he really made an effort to at least hug me, or hold my hand. It took me weeks to process my own thoughts, but I came to the conclusion that I can still have my fun, even if he is not ‘game’ anymore. He didn’t stop fucking me because he didn’t love me anymore, but because of the stupid meds. I love him — he really is the love of my life — and I am immensely happy with him, and if he can’t satisfy me sexually, I would just have to do it myself.
* * * * *
It’s yet another Sunday morning when I woke up with horny feelings in the early hours of the morning. Master T is still asleep next to me. I briefly cupped my pussy, then withdrew my hand and went back to sleep. Hours later I woke up again, still horny. By now Master T was stirring, and soon he got up. The moment he went downstairs, I reached for my Womanizer. I wanted a quick orgasm, one that would at least lull the craving. The toy sucked my clit, hidden under the covers, but for once I wanted to look at myself. I threw the covers off, grabbed my phone and snapped some pictures. The need for release made me pull the covers over me again. I stretched my legs and tightened my muscles — something that always seem to make my orgasm more intense. And there it was, holy hell, so strong, so good, so satisfying, this fourth orgasm of the year.
* * * * *
The result of an appointment with the dermatologist was Master T stopping with the immune suppressants. The dermatologist said that loss of libido wasn’t one of the known side effects.
* * * * *
I was downstairs, Master T in the bathroom, when I heard him clip his nails in the morning. Hope flared up. Many times in the past this was a clear sign that some fingering would happen.
It was very late before we finally went to bed, and by now I had forgotten about his nails. I was so tired, and when he put my collar on, I lay my head on his tummy. He rubbed my back, right down to my bum. There was promise in that, and more so when his hand slipped under my nightie and scratched my back. I moved my head down, feeling his cock through the duvet cover right under my cheek, and his fingers found my cunt. I moved some more, until I lay next to him, my bottom close to his face. He fingered me. Orgasms happened. I thought he was rubbing a finger over my asshole, but he licked me. God, it was so good.
Just as good as it felt to be objectified. To be nothing but holes for him to focus on. Several times more I asked for permission to climax, until Master T pushed more fingers in me, and I rubbed my clit until those tingly feelings started in my toes and my crown and rushed to each other to explode at my center, leaving me panting and almost unable to handle his touch anymore. He pushed my legs wider, and coaxed another orgasm from my body.
No orgasm for him, but he said the desire for sex was ‘starting to come’. It was two weeks since he stopped with the tablets, and there I was up to about thirteen orgasms for 2020. It could’ve be twelve, it could’ve be fourteen or fifteen, but thirteen seemed like a nice number to be at.
* * * * *
A week later, and another night that we went to bed, far too late. I was already half asleep when Master T came to bed, and sporting a terrible headache.
“So I guess, no fingering tonight?”
I was tempted, but could barely lift my head from the pillow, so he told me to go to sleep.
We had a lie in the next morning, and as we both were waking, Master T turned around and rested his hand on my thigh. It only stayed there for a second or two, before he moved it to find my clitoris. Then he carefully pushed a finger inside, as I was still somewhat dry (yay menopause), before returning to my clitoris. It took a while for the orgasm to build, and even though it wasn’t strong, it was satisfying.
Master T pushed the covers from him, and I rolled over on my side, finding his hard cock waiting for me. God, it’s been so long since I felt that. I ran my hand over his hard member, still in his underpants, from balls to tip. My head was spinning, I thought about sucking him, about wanking him, about fucking him. I want it all at once.
His hand moved to my cunt again, and orgasm fifteen for 2020 happened soon after, but no matter how nice this was, I wanted him. And I wanted him inside me. It had been about eighteen months since he last penetrated me, and that was the one thing I wanted now, to feel him inside He allowed me to straddle him, and slowly, ever so slowly he slipped inside. We both sighed and moaned and looked in each other’s eyes. Words were not necessary as I slowly moved up and down, wanting this to last as long as possible. And god, when his cock started pulsing inside, I was in heaven.
* * * * *
Despite all the hardships we have been through — and we are nowhere nearer to a solution for Master T — and despite those moments of doubt on my side, I have always believed in us. Yes, I was to the point where I had made the choice: to be with the man I love like I never loved another before, and never will again, even if it means to be in a sexless marriage. I believe in us, believe that we can get through everything, no matter what. And we did. We are. We will.
Don’t stop believin’!
© Rebel’s Notes