Jan 172012

(continued from  “A Retrospective: Part 4“) 

J kept pushing and it bothered me—not just because he was pushing, but because it seemed so damned important to him. I didn’t want to talk about it, so I ignored his “requests.” But he kept on pushing.

I was enjoying all sorts of other kinds of play and I would have preferred to avoid oral sex all together. I didn’t want it and I didn’t want to talk about it.

I mean I did want to talk about it, I do, someday, with the right person. I didn’t want to talk about it then because I knew it would be an uncomfortable conversation with a lot of self-disclosure on my part. It felt like it was too soon for a conversation like that, especially in a casual relationship. Besides that, I didn’t want too reveal my insecurities and lack of confidence to J for fear he would realize how not-dominant I really was. If I broke “role,” he might lose interest, and I’d lose the relationship and the opportunity to “play” Domme in those ways that felt natural, exciting, and deeply satisfying.

But he pushed… and pushed… and pushed. One night, winding down after some intense play, J started talking (again) about how much he enjoyed oral service and he linked it to a reward for his good behavior. I wish I could remember the specifics of the conversation, but in my head, it sounded like he felt I wasn’t rewarding him for being a good boy, or perhaps, that I was punishing him by not allowing him to perform oral service.

It made me feel terrible, because he was a good boy in so many ways–a willing, patient, and pliant boy–and he deserved to be rewarded.

But linking a request for reward to my allowing him to perform oral service–it didn’t feel right. Isn’t pleasing me supposed to be it’s own reward? Are we on some sort of points system here? Besides all that, his pushing so hard didn’t feel like submission. It seemed selfish and a little manipulative. (I know, I know. I wasn’t explicit with J—that’s my responsibility and my fault. Still, after a dominant ignores a “request” time after time after time, wouldn’t an experienced submissive know to stop pushing?)

He seemed to be waiting for a response. I avoided an awkward silence by kissing him instead, and I tried to avoid letting my internal debates show on my face. We fooled around, and I was physically present, but I couldn’t stop worrying about it. At some point, I sat up on his chest, panties on, inches from his mouth. Generally, I enjoy teasing him, but this time, I was stalling and trying to build up the courage to do it, to shove my pussy at him. I just couldn’t gather the courage to do it.

He wasn’t bound and he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me towards his mouth. Sometimes I like a little push and pull, but this was different. I wasn’t really teasing, but my pulling away was halfhearted–part of me wanted to see if sharing this with him might be different, part of me wanted to get it over with, and part of me didn’t want any of it. After some time “teasing,” (really, trying to talk myself into it,) J became visibly frustrated with me–not the good kind of frustration that I enjoy–but a kind of frustration that made me feel terrible. He looked angry and annoyed.

The expression on his face hurt me and made me angry. It felt as if all of my pretending and wanting and confusion and insecurities converged in that moment. I was furious that he would push so hard, hurt that he didn’t seem to notice or care that this wasn’t what I wanted. I felt inadequate for not being Domme enough, not exciting enough, too “vanilla” for my hesitance and my disinterest. I felt as if I was reduced to the sum of my insecurities and flaws. I felt anything but dominant—I felt like a little girl and I hated that feeling.

I hid it well enough, or at least, I hid it long enough to grab a blindfold and vet wrap and ensure he couldn’t see—I thought I was going to cry. I took a swig of vodka straight from the bottle, slid off my panties, straddled his face, and let him “service” me. (God I hate that term, “oral service,” it’s as if I’m a broken automobile in need of “servicing.” Perhaps I hate it because sometimes I do feel as if I’m broken.) I moved as I had seen in pornography, I was rough with his head (half mimicking what I had seen in porn and half out of actual anger), and I moaned when I thought I was supposed to.

I fought back tears and at some point, I tried to pull away. His arms tightened around my thighs and he kind of held me there. I didn’t fight him. He stopped long enough to say “You’re fine. You’re beautiful” in a near monotone that was one of the emptiest, most condescending things I’ve ever heard. I tried to shut down my brain and detach.

After some time passed, I assumed I should have been approaching orgasm, and I dramatized my movements, moans, and words accordingly. As I pretended to “orgasm,” tears welled in my eyes. Despite my efforts to blink them back, big fat tears rolled down my cheeks. I hated every second of it and I just wanted it to be over.

I didn’t say anything that night as I curled my body into his and fell into a dreamless sleep. I loved him and I fucking hated him and I quietly decided I’d end it the next day. None of it was working out for me—not the Domme thing and not the J thing.


continue to Retrospective, Part 6: Oh… Hell No!

  16 Responses to “Retrospective, Part 5: Dumb Service Top”

  1. I've been reading these, and WOW just WOW. Don't stop blogging, please don't. This entire 'project' (no idea what to call it) is awesome, and I'm glad you're sharing this side of you (betting it was hard).


  2. Jake, you sweet, sweet darling. :) Thank you so much for this. I tend to shy away from straightforward approaches to recounting my thoughts and experiences, so this was a big step for me.

    I know it's probably boring people to death (if they're still hanging around through the many long-winded, self-centered reflections), but it's something I felt I should do… fill in the blanks and whatnot.

    Thanks for this… it means a lot to me. :)

  3. Boring, no.
    Painful, a bit.

    J doesn't read this right? I think I remember you said he didn't know about it. If I were him and read this I'd feel sick, for having put you through that.

    Please keep sharing, at least 'til we get to a more or less happy place.

  4. Boring? HELL NO, this is seriously making my day(s). I'll admit, your blog has been bumped up to the check daily category! Also, Dawwww, thanks.

    IT's not boring or anything, it's you sharing an extremely painful (at parts) bit of what makes you, well, you. So yeah, I'm loving it.

  5. @D: It's not boring at all… I'm finding it absolutely fascinating.

    I think people are reluctant to comment on very personal posts because… well… what do you say? Especially when it is history already.

    I agree with Peroxide in that it is painful to read, but wonderfully honest and compelling.

    Thank you for it.


  6. Quietly following along. Optimistic it can/will lead to a good place for someone so honest, self-reflective, and kind. And no not boring at all.

  7. @Peroxide: "J doesn't read this right? I think I remember you said he didn't know about it. If I were him and read this I'd feel sick, for having put you through that."

    No. J doesn't know about the blog. At some point, I'm probably going to have to tell him. In his defense, I let it happen, so it's not his fault. If I had been more forthcoming about reality, he wouldn't have pushed.

    "Please keep sharing, at least 'til we get to a more or less happy place."

    I promise it's going somewhere (almost done with the story), but I can't promise a happy place.

  8. @Ferns: "I think people are reluctant to comment on very personal posts because… well… what do you say"

    I do get that. I guess I'll draw on what I said to Jake… it's out of character for me to post realities without jokes or sarcasm. I'm not sure what I expected, other than figuring it out for myself.

  9. @DC: "Quietly following along."

    I'm glad! Is it strange that I actually got a little concerned about you because you weren't around? I'm grateful that you're here. :)

  10. I’m one of those women who’s not a huge fan of being the receptive partner during oral sex. Historically, I found it passive, too wet in a way that didn’t work for me, and it was something that was unlikely to get me off. But the act has become such a sexual totem that many people will jump to the conclusion that there’s something wrong with you, physically or psychologically, if you don’t like it — that not liking it means you must not like your own body, or have trust issues, or not like sex. Now, for some people, those things might be true, but it’s interesting that oral sex — unlike so many other sex acts — has left the realm of personal taste and become a litmus test for so many people. It took me a long time to just own the fact that I didn’t like it and that there wasn’t anything wrong with that.

    However, I have a partner who really *loves* going down on me and feels really deprived when she can't. Oddly, the scenario you come up with here is a lot like the one that does feel best for me — I do like to be on top, in part so I can pull away if I don't like a particular sensation.

    The thing is, my partner never pressures or pesters me for it, or establishes a quid-pro-quo where I give that particular experience to her as a reward for anything at all. It's entirely my decision; if it wasn't, I think I'd feel as rotten as you describe in this post.

    You know what he was doing? He was being a Squeegee Guy.

    A Squeegee Guy walks up to your car while you're stopped at a light and starts washing the windows of your car. They do it whether you ask for it or not. They do it whether you want it or not. Then? They demand money.

    J was giving you something you didn't ask for and then demanding payment you didn't want to give. It's manipulative, self-centered, and to mix that kind of self-centered manipulation with something so intimate is flatly cruel.

  11. Lily: Your response is thoughtful and heart-breakingly accurate in describing my past and current situation.

    I think my situation is slightly different, in part because my partner does pressure me, and perhaps I'm too sensitive to his feeling slighted if it isn't wanted. I don't know how to handle that yet.

    The squeegee guy metaphor is perfect, though. It's a service I'm expected to shell out for, even though I haven't asked for it. Also, I realize that it isn't so much about pleasing me as pleasing my partner.

    In any case, your response is so perfect! I still don't know how I feel about it or how to act in going forward, but it's really good to hear I'm not the only one that has some issues with it.

    Thank you, Lily!

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  13. This is…heartbreakingly beautiful. In the most painful way.

    If that makes any sense.

    I was in a similar situation with my ex. A few times. So…yeah. I know exactly what you’re talking about.

    • Thanks. :) In hindsight, I am able to see some beauty in it, if not in the situation, perhaps in the approach.

      I’m still not 100% comfortable, and some days are better than others with that. The slightest thing can make me flip from “I want your face” to bolting my pants on for the remainder of the evening.

      Heh, in fact, the other night, he asked “can I try to make you cum now?” And that was all it took for me to know it wasn’t happening on that occasion. In my head was “Yeah, you can try, but it won’t work, so why fucking bother?” Obviously, I’m still trying enjoy it without thinking of orgasm as the goal. It makes me sad sometimes, but hey, I’m really good at other stuff!

      Thanks for your thoughts on this. It’s comforting to know I’m not the only one. :)

      • I also think a lot of weird things have an odd beauty to it. Mostly, I’m falling for your language and writing. ;)

        Ugh, yeah. I’m a stickler for word choice. I’ve been known to annoy many a friend and family for it, but what you say (and how you say it) are important to me, even to the point of excess. The addition of “Can I try to” in what he asked would have had the same effect on me.

        • ” The addition of “Can I try to” in what he asked would have had the same effect on me.”

          I know! But it sucks… because I think we’re in the wrong on this. I doubt our partners/lovers/whatevers meant any harm (or meant anything other than wanting to lick pussy). But, because we are (or I am) so hung up on language, that little teeny thing can absolutely turn me off (and make me sad…)

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