marielmia

Mariel is MIA
2019-11-19 17:07:54 (UTC)

Post Scene Blues

Let me say right now, i am high. Alone, with my feelings. i knew they would come. i suppose they are natural, following such a session with my M. The more intense the high, the deeper the low.


I was thinking about submission and balance. i thought there should be a balance between M and me. Between his requests and my performance. But balance is not quite the word for it. i'd call it equilibrium instead. Balance implies a horizontal seesaw. With equilibrium, the seesaw can be any stable angle, really, depending on intensity. i see this now. And i understand that the after effects on my feelings are all part of the event, even if the main attractions are long past. The marks will fade. i have a few scabs on my back, unavoidable no matter the precaution. But they too will fade, leaving no trace.


A trace will however, remain in my mind. My question is, why does the passage of time convert exhilaration into shame? Is that too strong? Shall i soften it for myself and say "second guessing?" No, i think not. Right now, i want to feel it all. i allowed them to take me to another plane; an alternate being.
The barn was cold, especially at night. The wool blankets did their job,keeping me warm against those 58 measly degrees, but at the same time, their scratchiness reminded me of who i was and what was expected of me. Being naked outdoors with only those wools showed me my dependence. They would shut out the cold until it was time for them to be taken from me. At least he allowed me to spread one of the wools on the rough hewn tree trunk bench before i splayed myself out on it. If the Home Depot woman could see how he put those nylon ties to use. Exposed to the cold to the point where body heat of another was longed for, all i had to do is say the word. i did hold out. In part to defy him and in part because i was fearful of what he had planned. i had agreed already but as per our discussions, i had to declare an acceptance at the time, the very moment where i would submit to my overseers. It was tentative at first. A probing of my spirit if not my physical being. But then, as he gained confidence, he was one with me. His roughness hit me first and as i adjusted, my focus was on the warmth he gave me as he draped himself over my immobile being. He was frantic, as he usually is when we play this out. The coat he wore was scratchy, but welcome. His face, near my head, his hot breath teasing my neck as it warmed and quickly chilled at the end of his exhale. After endless frenzied moments, he stilled in me. His weight on me. It was exactly how it was meant for me to feel. The deed was done. He reduced me to an animal, though he was one too. How could it be any other way? And like all males after the fucking, he withdrew, sitting across from me, concerned only with himself. The thing driving him to the fuck had receded. M threw a blanket over me but i could only focus on the cold on my bottom, wet from both of us.

Our play was acted out, but the joke was on nature. The mind fuck was just beginning. No, there was no balance. The players had different motives. Nature's call was answered in some twisted way. I remained still as M cut away the nylon restraints. i think he expected me to move, but i didn't. My head was elsewhere. The cold didn't matter to me anymore. Adrenaline would keep me warm. He lifted me and carried me to the house. i molded to him, warm where my naked skin touched his exposed chest. In the house, he set me down on the floor for a final conquering where only men engage their women. He showed me he had strength too. And this time, his taking of me would also cheat nature of its desires, just just in a different way.




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