The sadist intrigues me. He is the kind of dom who accepts someone into his service with the understanding that he alone has complete control. Even for one like me, who is not a slave, and whose service is in many ways quite different from that of most submissives.
He stated it quite clearly,
from the very beginning.
This is not a game.
There are no negotiations.
There is no aftercare.
The rules are his.
Take it or leave.
His behaviour, however, is not as absolute as one might expect. There are times when he seems much kinder than he need be. There have been occasions when he has changed course to adjust to bad reactions on my part, rather than continuing to take what he wants without caring that I was upset for days after.
I don't see this as capitulation.
I don't see this as weakness.
I don't see this as a shift in the balance of power.
There are many ways to control behaviour, many ways to train one's pet, many ways to mold a girl into exactly what you want her to be. Sometimes a sharp word will do. Sometimes a firm spanking or a hard beating. Once - only once - he slapped my face, a single slap on each cheek. I still remember why he did it, and what he was trying to teach me. He has found that physical punishment sets the lesson, but never hurts me any more than he needs to.
And sometimes he is kind, without being mushy about it, such as when I suffer a crisis of confidence, or was freaking out over turning 60, or was upset about my mother's bad fall back the end of March. His tone was always firm, but he knew exactly what to say to center me and refocus me to serving him.
There are many ways to train a pet, and he is good at them all. More and more, I am learning, I am accepting, I am understanding the true meaning of submission, and the depth to which I must yield. He works slowly, he is patient, he knows the results will be more satisfying if he takes his time.
He is not a man to take the cake out of the oven before it is ready.
I'm not sure how this applies to the whole question of whether he will always keep the beast from ripping open my abdomen. I'm really not sure what he truly wants there, what he intends, and I suspect that this uncertainty on my part is part of his plan.
But I thought of it now, as he waits for my cold to get better before reclaiming me after my vacation. There is, of course, some concern on his part about catching whatever it is I have, especially as he takes so much pleasure from my mouth. (Sigh... I do so miss his kisses...) And if he were an ordinary man, you might just think he was waiting until I was up to it, until my energy had returned, until I felt like entertaining him... all things, of course, which are of no concern when dealing with property. (Though yes, I admit to suspecting he does actually care a bit about me, about how I feel, about my health... though he would be the first one to disabuse me of that. His attitude towards me is purely utilitarian, and I work hard to remember that. I do! I do! It is for my own good to get that straight.)
So yes, where was I? When I'm sick, it's hard to focus, and thought of the sadist distract me.
He is waiting.
He is waiting for me to be better.
He urges me to rest,
he reminds me to drink tea,
he wants me better soon.
He wants me.
He wants me
and he waits
fondling the memory
of his cock
into the crevice
that bisects my ass.