For the Sake of the Thing

Yesterday I took the opportunity to grab a mulligan of Thursday. I had more and better plans, and had acquired some better props in the interim. I also remixed my playlist, making it longer by two tracks and removing an irritating pop that had snuck into version one. I set up the iPod and speakers, put a nylon strap under the mattress, laid out my chosen toys, and dressed in a black rhinestoned bra, black lace thong, and black knee-high socks with a pink and purple heart motif.

Not all of the toys got used, which was the plan. Getting out more than I need gives me flexibility to choose the right one for the moment. A pair of wolverine claws alternating with a fuzzy boot cover worn over one forearm were good entertainment when used on his back. A large portion of the scene became an experiment in flogging with music. I'd listened to the songs I was using enough to know the high and low points, the bridges and bass drops. I made use of it, striking with the rhythm, pausing when the beat did, teasing with the breeze of whiffed tail tips on long suspended notes.

Aiden didn't react to most of it. His only communication was when a tail got away and struck him in the neck. My flogging skills are okay but not yet wonderful. I'll get there with practice.

I closed by rolling him onto his back and riding us both to orgasm, removing his blindfold before we got there but leaving the cuffs on. Even my approach and entry into orgasm patterned itself with the music; it really is part of me. It's easier to control and manipulate me with music than with anything else.

When we were done, I dropped hard, curling into a panting, teary-eyed mess on his chest. I got so far into my head in scene, thinking and watching and listening and planning and analyzing and moving, that I was amazed at the emotion that emerged afterward. The passionate side of me was watching the scene from the corner, I guess, waiting patiently for its turn at the end. I wrapped myself around Aiden and held him tightly, grateful that he seemed to be in no hurry to go anywhere.

I asked him for feedback, since I got pretty much nothing in scene.

"I have a great time any time you come that hard," was his response. That made me smile, but wasn't informational.

I tried asking about his boundaries and preferences, and he said he didn't know what they were after not thinking about them for fifteen-plus years. I pointed out that he gave very little feedback in the moment and he seemed slightly surprised, then said that perhaps the lack of reaction stemmed from watching BDSM porn, in which the bottom is expected to be as stoic as possible. (Not in my experience, but apparently in his.)

He agreed when I suggested it that he has more fun as a top when I'm a reactive bottom, so at least there's that. I explained that I can just take his lack of reaction as boredom and an indication that I need to make him react with more stimulation, but that I didn't want to wave that assumption around without stating it first. I'm willing to find his boundaries by exploration, but I need him to know that's what I'm doing before I begin. Playing top is already scary for me, since it's new territory, and playing with a nonreactive bottom makes it even more nerve-wracking. I certainly don't expect wanton screaming if it's not obviously called for, but complete stillness and dead silence mess with me. It feels like dropping a rock into a pond and having it mysteriously disappear without a single surface ripple. Was that good? Bad? Indifferent? Now what do I do? More of that? Something else? Quit and walk away?

He told me that there's a wide range of things he can enjoy if I'm enjoying them, but that just leaves me feeling at loose ends. I'm not doing these things because I like going through the motions. I'm doing them because I like what they might do to him; I like his reaction to my actions. If I wanted to swing a flogger or draw with a knife for the sake of exercise, I could do it without my favorite sexy human being on the other end.