Submitting & pleasing is so thrilling. And frightening.
To be pushed past boundaries you know, past limits not only physically but emotionally, unexpectedly… Even in situations which seem impossible. Like phone sex.
Phone sex is so far removed from the reality of physical submission in many ways… You might think it would be easier; after all, the physical dangers would be markedly less than submitting to anyone physically, let alone a complete stranger. But it’s far more complicated — and delicious — than that.
I mean phone sex is serving a complete stranger; but unlike having someone standing before you, someone you know & trust, someone who could physically force you should you balk, the balancing point in phone service lies in my commitment & dedication. And we all know that self-control isn’t always my strongest suit.
While I’m “here” because Blackie has said so, inferring his consent & his trust to men I do not know, these are men that I do not know how to please because I do not (yet) know what they really want…
For a sub like me, this alone is pure torture. I want to please, but how? I’m so vulnerable, I ache. If I say that I’m “bleeding from the soul” don’t mistake this for adolescent teen poetry; the pain & fear is real. I’m afraid that my weakness marks me a failure. And that this failure will reflect poorly on Blackie who will discipline in ways which hurts & humiliates past “play time.” It’s his right, his due, but it kills me.
To follow the voice commands of a stranger, using your own hands yet, to inflict pain that you know is coming is not just “motions” — for I submit to faceless gods because I am helpless to do anything else.
This is something different. Something special. It tests all that I know about me.
For example, the case of “D,” a regular caller working on some special training with me. What he requires me to do to myself in the name of his pleasure is so contrary to the orgasms he elicits from me that I feel crazy. The only refuge I have is to submit to his strength & control, to trust that he knows what he is doing — and that by pleasing him I am doing Good.
So when”D” sent me the following message, my submissive girlie insides turned to goo — and yes, you may also take that to mean I got wet too:
Dear Pinkie,
It pleases me to know that you are very sore after last night. And that it’s because of what I had you do.
I really loved it when you asked if I really wanted you to do it for real. You were such a good girl.
I would like to hurt you further very soon. The more pain you can take, the more I am pleased with you.
“D”
“D” makes me feel like a little kitten, weak, unsure, fragile, yet resilient — and when I please him, when he says I have, it’s like strong fingers holding & stroking me through the pain I have inflicted upon myself in his name.
I am Good.
I am his good little girl.
And I crave that feeling so much, that I’ll try to do whatever he asks, no matter how it hurts. For in doing so, I not only serve & please him (or you?), but I serve & please Blackie.
No matter how sore I am afterwards.
And the tenderness & marks are physical reminders of my purpose: I serve.
