I tilt my head back, my eyes closed but hidden behind my sunglasses, and cherish the warmth of the sun on my cheeks. The voices around me are but a murmur, blurring all words into one monotone hum. I’m part of the crowd, but all on my own, finding places of peace in my mind. A feeling of happy satisfaction — pleasure — folds around me like a cloak, as I mentally distance myself from the stress of every day life.
Watching him from the other side of the room, my heart aches. He’s the center of attention, not only from the women, but also the men. Everyone wants to be close to him; to talk to him; to be noticed by him. Not an arrogant bone in his body, he talks to them all. Not only as a group, but also as individuals. Sometimes he glances around the room, his eyes briefly resting on those not part of the group. On me. But, does he really see me? A cruel fist of desire twists my insides, and I avert my eyes, not wanting him to see the message in my eyes. Want me! Need me… need you…
Silent heaving sobs shook my shoulders, as I clamp my hand over my mouth, trying to stifle the little sound I make. I don’t want him to know I’m crying. I know he will hug me, will soothe me, but he can’t do more than that. Not now. He knows what I want, what I need, but is incapable of giving it to me. And I know this. I know. But still, I cry. I have to. It relieves the want and need inside. The need for his dominance. The intense desire for a spanking. Oh, a spanking. A whipping. A caning. Anything to reset the pain inside.
Pleasure comes in different forms
The scenario I describe above, sitting somewhere in the sun, enjoying its warmth, is something that genuinely gives me pleasure. But that’s not the only thing. A walk in the woods with my daughter, taking the cameras and driving somewhere with Master T to take photos, a sauna day with my best friend, or just relaxing while I watch a feel-good series — those are all things that give me pleasure too.
And yes, then of course there’s sexual pleasure too, in those moments where I slip my hand between my legs, feel the wetness, and touch my clitoris. Sometimes that’s all I do. Just touch, and the pleasure comes from the touching; from feeling the reactions of my body. Other times I do more than just touch. I bring myself to orgasm, sometimes just because I can, and other times because I need a bit of release.
As I sit here, re-reading what I have written, I think of Thursday last week, when unexpectedly we ended up at our favorite place, on the terrace. We didn’t have any plans to go there, but on our way back from hospital, drove past and decided to see whether they had a spot on their terrace (only terraces are open at restaurants, since Wednesday last week). They did, and there we sat for an hour and a half, until they had to close at 6pm. It was bliss. Just so good. Sitting there, sipping from a glass of wine, seeing faces we hadn’t seen for six months, I can vividly recall the feeling of pleasure our little outing gave me.
Desire is more intense
I have become an expert in suppressing my desire. I have an intense desire for my husband. Had from the beginning, and think I always will have it. But with his health as it is, I need to keep my own desire in check. The stroke has really thrown a spanner in the wheels. Before it happened, we were slowly building up our sex life again, and starting to talk about D/s, and what we want. How we would get back to our own kind of D/s again, and how it might not look like it did before, but it would get back to something that we both felt comfortable with.
Now, with Master T walking the road of rehabilitation, and tiring very quickly from only minimal exertion, our sex life is back to what it was for the bigger part of 2020. And 2019. And 2018. I’m not complaining. Far from that. My first priority and intense desire, is for him to get better. I want to have him with me for many years to come, so I’m keeping a close watch on him, terrified that this first mild stroke was a sign that something bigger might wait for him around the corner. Especially after hearing that there was evidence on the scan of more strokes. Thinking of that, my mind goes to dark places, and that kills all the desire I have, and the only one that remains is for him to heal, and to be with me always.
Desire, pleasure, want and need
I find pleasure in small things. A silly moment with Master T. A phone call with one of my kids. Hugging my grandkids. Sharing finger food with Master T. Laughing with my daughter about something we’ve both seen in Grey’s Anatomy. Watching the cat sleep. Writing a piece of flash fiction. A text conversation with my best friend. Holding hands with Master T when we’re in bed.
Those are all little moments throughout my days and weeks that make me smile, that give me pleasure in some or other way. Desire is something that flares up, and depending what my desire is for, I either push it away or act on it. And yes, by acting on it, I mean have one of my functional masturbation sessions, where it’s not about the pleasure of play, but about having a climax to soothe the want between my legs.
I have my wants and needs, my desires, but getting pleasure from the little things is what keeps me going, and which will always keep me going. I believe that even in the darkest of times, there’s always something that makes you smile.
© Rebel’s Notes
Image from Unsplash