The Joys of Rough Sex

Daddy and I have been writing each other all day about my desire for him to force me to submit, how I crave rougher, and I am full of bravado as 5 o’clock nears. But once I hear the garage door open and the rumble of his car in the garage, I am suddenly scared, nervous. And when he walks in with those smoldering eyes that tells me he has been working up a head of sexual steam all day, I think I actually gulp.

“Come here,” he says.

I walk toward him, and his hand claps onto my shoulder and he pushes me hard down onto my knees so forcefully that it makes me lose my balance a bit. Zing. I am instantly turned on just by that little bit of force, that one moment of being overpowered.

After I suck his cock, he pulls me to my feet, and I move a little wobbly into the kitchen to make dinner. As I cook, he begins unwinding the rope in the living room, looking over to me with a small smile that looks positively ruthless to me, and gives me a little shiver of fear, and a big wave of anticipation.

Our attempts at small talk are interspersed with small bursts of stray laughter from me.

“Is someone nervous?” he asks.

“Someone is very nervous,” I answer.

“You should be,” he says.

After we eat, he begins binding my breasts in a harness.

It is such a singular thing, to stand mostly naked, while he puts all that focus on me, and winds the rope around me in this slow hypnotic rhythm. It settles me completely into my body and my sexual self, while at the same time making it explicit that my body is his.

“Now,” he says. “Your spanking.”

He pulls me to the couch and pulls me over his lap, none too gently. My squeezed tight breasts are pressed painfully into the couch, and while I am trying to get comfortable he smacks my ass hard, very hard. Way harder than usual. I don’t know why it shocks me, how much it hurts. This is what I wanted, right?

It seems not at all what I want when the blows land. I am flinching, and moaning, trying to scramble away. But he shoves my head down onto the couch, holds me still, spanks me brutally until I am in tears. I think, how stupid am I, to invite such a abuse. I don’t like this!  But only moments after the last spank, my body calms, and I am swept by the sweetest surrendered feeling to his power over me.

With my ass still burning hot, he tells me to lie still on his lap and relax. I am only too happy to obey, still face down on the couch. He reaches for the lube and starts stroking my bottom hole. This is when he most truly becomes Daddy to me, when he penetrates me there, gently probing, opening me to his fingers while I lie helpless across his lap. My mind is so convinced only a Daddy could be allowed to do that, or would want to do that, would be so careful gentle and yet so insistent. It is hard to lie still for it, accept the intensity of his fingers pounding into my ass, the too-much-ness of it. I want to squirm because it feels like an invasion, a wrongness, and it hurts.

But oh my god the pleasure that comes as I allow that pain, and submit to that piercing pressure. I have a mental image of those expanding circles that artists draw in the ocean to show the traveling of a sonar waves. I feel round shafts of the most deeply satisfying pleasure pulsing through me.

But ass penetration is not just physical pleasure, it rivets my mind as well as my body, my mind literally cannot move any more than my body can, and my mind craves more even when my body is saying enough, I can’t take more. Then he slides another finger in, and I feel myself keep opening, allowing, almost swooning, fuck yes. And I know, I KNOW this is what Daddy love feels like, to be so essentially and personally taken and invaded and penetrated to the core.

So he has prepared me, and stretched me, and even though I feel so incredibly open, he tells me I am tight, and he is going to put a plug in. I lie still and breathless as he pushes the fat, clear silicone plug into my throbbing behind. It feels more hard and painful and cold than his fingers, but satisfying still, to be on the edge of what I can stand, to feel myself stretched and full. And his fingers go in my pussy, oh I am full everywhere, I feel ecstasy building, I am dissolving …

And then a dark pain, deep in my ass, BAD pain, his fingers pounding into my pussy are pushing the plug too far in, I turn my head in alarm, start yelling, “Ow, ow, ow!” my hand shoving at him to stop. The TV is on, he cannot hear me at first. It is getting worse, I am in a panic, kicking my feet, yelling louder, when he finally stops. “It hurts!  You’re hurting me!”

He quickly discovers that the plug has ENTIRELY disappeared inside me, round handle and all have gone too far up my ass. From ecstasy to horror in ten seconds. True horror. I am scared so scared, I fear I have to go to the emergency room to get it taken out, I will become a joke, the humiliation will be unbearable.

But Daddy keeps his head, and calmly works his finger in after it and plucks it out. He seems to take it in stride.

I do not take it in stride, I am so upset by this turn, mortified by it.  My butthole hurts bad, I have no clue if it is seriously damaged (it isn’t), and I am pretty well hysterical, half laughing half crying.  But he is saying shhhhh, pulling me onto his lap, comforting me.

But I am done, and I am sure that my solicitous husband will stop now, release me from sexual obligation for the evening, allow me to recover my composure. But this is not my husband, this is my Daddy, and what Daddy wants, Daddy takes. And when I say I am done with anal training, I give up, he will not hear of it.

“We are not giving up, baby girl,” he says. Already he is pushing me back over his lap and sliding his fingers back into my pussy. I have the uncanny feeling that it doesn’t matter what I feel, literally does not matter, my body does not belong to me, and he is going to finish what he started. And yes I am still excited after all, and his fingers keep sliding in and out of me, stirring me, and the orgasm comes fast, and then another … And then he tells me to turn over onto my back and he fucks me until his own orgasm makes him groan loud. He will later tell me that it was the fuck of his life.

Afterward he cleans between my legs with the towel, that tender Daddy task that makes me so feel like a girl being taken care of, makes me know I can trust him. He lies over me, sucks on my pushed out titties, then, his face charged and wild like I have never seen, he grabs the front of the breast harness, and lifts the top of my body, shaking me with growls of ownership. I feel like a rag doll, helpless in the grip of his powerful hand, his powerful possessive love. Being shaken like that pushes me further in a submissive trance, I feel my head fall back in the stunned peace of subspace.

Finally, Daddy pulls me to my feet so he can unwrap the ropes. It is a long luxurious process, he cradles me close, and the feel of rope sliding across my body as well as his tender hands keeps me in that space for a long, suspended while …

I was not wrong about more force bringing me more satisfaction, more surrender.  I could have never imagined being so close to someone, so handled inside and out.  I feel consumed by him, swallowed up into him.  I had thought I was throwing myself into the D/s dynamic, did not realize how completely I would be throwing myself into him.

Who is he, this dominant Daddy of mine?  I have only barely met him. He does not even know this unfolding version of himself. I am unfamiliar with myself too, we are changing each other, becoming new people with each other. I feel so raw as he unwraps me, so at the mercy of the unknown him and the ever changing us. And so fucking in awe of how he loves me.

The Nitty Gritty Part Two

After our little D/s crisis of the other night, where I felt foolish for wanting to ask for anal training, and shut myself down, I keep wanting to ask Daddy, what are we DOING?  I cannot wait for him to get home to have a real conversation, and it is easier for me to write my thoughts anyway, so I email him again:

We’ve had many talks about how D/s feels to you and me, and how and why it excites each of us.  But I don’t think we’ve talked about how we want the process to unfold, what point we want to get to, what exactly we are trying to accomplish with this kind of relationship.  I know right now we’re in discovery mode, and still trying to figure those things out.  But it seems to me that we can’t get past the bumps in the road – like what happens if I am not in the mood to submit – without a mutual agreement on what we are DOING.    

On the surface, we have a basic agreement that I will do whatever you tell me sexually, and you have the right to my body, and so forth.  This agreement has infused incredible heat into our sex life.  And it seems to me that you look at the BDSM type things we’ve been exploring as a menu of options that you may choose from depending on what sounds pleasurable to you at the moment.  That is, of course, as it should be; the submissive is there to serve at the pleasure of the dominant.  

But there is a larger framework in D/s, at least for me.  A framework that I believe requires deeper responsibilities to each other than just the delivery of pleasure or sexual excitement.  I got tangled up in my ideas on anal training the other night.  But it’s not just because “Oh I like it in the ass.”  You talk about butt plugs as if they are part of whatever menu of pleasure you feel like indulging in, when I have been looking at it as something different, something more like the holy grail of submission.  You have been looking at it as something that is “hot” and I have been looking at it as a spiritual requirement.  

I told you I have been reading the book, The Surrender by Toni Bentley, that erotic memoir about anal sex.  I picked it up looking for clues as to why whenever you put a finger, or anything else, in my behind it has such a powerful effect on me.  Maybe if I send you a few snippets, it will help you understand why I made such a stupid deal out of those stupid plugs the other night.

“Bliss, I learned from being sodomized, is an experience of eternity in a moment of real time.  Sodomy is the ultimate sexual act of trust.  I mean you could really get hurt – if you resist.  But pushing past that fear, by passing through it, literally, ah the joy that lies on the other side of convention.  The peace that is past the pain.  Going past the pain is key.  Once absorbed, it is neutralized and allows for transformation.  Pleasure alone is mere temporary indulgence, a subtle distraction, an anesthetization while on the path to something higher, deeper, lower…

“Anal sex is about cooperation.  One is in charge, the other obedient.  Entirely in charge, entirely obedient.  You can’t half-ass butt-fuck… His cock pierces my yang – my desire to know, control, understand, and analyze – and forces my yin – my openness, my vulnerability – to the surface…  As a liberated woman, it is the only way I can get there.  Turned over, ass in the air, I have little choice but to succumb and lose my head.  This is how I can have an experience my feminist intellect would never allow… Emancipation through the back door would never be, for any rational woman, a choice.  It can only happen as a gift.  A surprise.

“I am, you see, a woman who has been in search of surrender my whole life – to find something, someone, to whom I could subsume my ego, my will, my miserable mortality… And then he found me, the man who demanded my submission… If you can let a man ass-fuck you – and only the truly sensitive lover should have that privilege – you will learn to trust not only him but yourself, totally out of control.  And beyond control lies God.  It is through this physical surrender, this forbidden pathway, that I have found myself, my voice, my spirit, my courage.  This is the truth about the beauty of submission.  The power in submission.  It is God’s supreme irony.  Enter the exit; paradise awaits.”

I send those words to Daddy.  I want him to understand the larger context for me.  How I feel like the health of my soul depends on cultivating real dominance and submission between us.  This time his reply is not long in coming:

Oh, wow, lightbulb moment, .. “What are we DOING?”  I thought you were asking that in the rhetorical sense, the bewildered/panicked/relationship-at-stake sense, .. I didn’t realize your question was literal, .. What, indeed, are we doing, in the larger sense?  And, of course, you’ve asked exactly the right question (you always do), .. I’ll admit that I’ve approached our D/s dynamic in a haphazard way, without any end in mind, .. some light reading, a one-page ‘contract’, and off we went, .. Don’t get me wrong, these first few weeks have been incredibly gratifying, .. OMG, the pleasure you’ve given me, .. so many ‘best ever’ moments.  It’s clear now, though, that I have to consider your ‘larger sense’ question.  I hadn’t thought of BDSM (and anal play in particular) as a spiritual pathway. I’ve viewed our evolving D/s dynamic as a way to reveal my truest nature, free myself, .. and yes, “get my rocks off” by having you submit to my every sexual whim , .. It’s so appealing on a raw, physical, visceral level, that masculine-me hadn’t considered the spiritual possibilities.  My mind association has Tantra in that spiritual space and BDSM a purely physical/mental experience.  I hadn’t considered that it was possible to “know God by being fucked in the ass.” .. :))).  You’re right, I had thought of anal sex as a ‘menu item’, but I get where you’re coming from now, .. it can apparently be so much more.

So, what are we doing? .. In my view, stepping back, it involves words/phrases like: ‘pursuing our truest selves’ or ‘pursuing “oneness” with each other’ or even ‘pursuing God’ .. You asked,“What happens if I’m not in the mood to submit, then what?  Will you force me?” .. I am finding that societal restraints are fading as time passes, so the answer is a simple, ‘I will force you to submit’ (Oh, just typing that thrills me), and I don’t know whether you’ve noticed or not, but I feel that I’ve been more and more assertive in that way as our dynamic unfolds, as my truest self is revealed, .. You asked, “What did I mean the other night when I said that I need to be your Daddy?” .. Oh, baby girl, it’s my highest calling, my truest purpose, .. the thought, ironically, makes my heart soar and my cock stiff, .. taking care of you, holding you, cherishing you, loving you more than life itself, .. the bondage, the discipline, your submission, your surrender, .. it all resonates so perfectly well as good and right and even necessary down to my very core.  I don’t know that I can explain it any better than that.

As I read Daddy’s words, I have to squeeze my thighs together to ease the throbbing in my pussy.

He has just rescued me from the terrible suspicion I had the day before that I’d been trapped into being secretly in control, able to manipulate him with my feelings.  And I had noticed that he’s been more willing to impose his will on me in a physical way. I’d also noticed how much it helps me snap out of whatever mental snafu I have gotten myself into.  Daddy manhandling me, pushing and pulling me over his lap the night before, despite my reluctance, was the one peaceful moment I had that evening.

I believe David Deida is right in that the motive of force matters, whether it is motivated by love or not, and that there is a difference between rape and ravishment, though they may look the same on the outside.  And Deida is right too in that anyone with a feminine essence longs to be ravished.  The rougher he is with me the more I feel…  well, the more I feel everything.  More passionately desired and more inside my body and inside of life, and more free from my mind, more surrendered and more peaceful and more right.

I am more and more convinced that BDSM is a kind of secret code to the subconscious, or even spirit itself, a symbolic language that unlocks very deep life and love things.  And oh, I can’t wait for Daddy to get home…