S p o r o t i c a

My VSO (very significant other) came home from work yesterday, looking a bit worn around the edges as usual. As he changed out of his work clothes, he spoke briefly of his day and its frustrations. As he spoke, I handed him two aspirin and a tall glass of icy water. He took the aspirin gratefully, and I instructed him to sit for a few minutes at his computer, read his email, and start to unwind from his day.

At this point, I need to mention that even though I am a Dominant sexual sadist, my VSO is not submissive, is not the expected diametric opposite of a Dominant. He is a sexual masochist, and delightfully conflicted spiritually and convoluted both spiritually and emotionally. It is precisely these deeper traits that I was appealing to at this very moment.

He sat down at his computer, in his room, and I walked back to my room directly across the hall from his. He chatted a bit while he opened his email program. I smiled to myself because I knew that a sudden lapse in the conversation was going to be coming right up, but kept up my end of the conversation nonetheless. I sat in my big leather chair and waited. Within a minute, he stopped talking in midsentence. I asked if he had said something, because I couldn’t hear it. It was hard to say that without sounding as though I were wearing a huge smile. I heard him almost-whisper ‘I’m reading’ as he did so.

I had sent him a very intimate and descriptive email the night before, you see. It had described a brief and solo experience I had had the weekend before when we were out enjoying our day together. He had had no clue, of course. One of the things I love about him is that sometimes he is blissfully oblivious to certain things. Makes the passions rise ever stronger when he is told of them. The sudden threat of sex in the air even through an email, was all it took to make him completely forget about work.

After reading it, he asked if it had actually happened, or if I just wanted it to happen. I made a mental note to be more direct in my verbage the next time, and asked him if he thought it did or not. His mind reeled at the thought of it, because he could not pinpoint a time when he went into a building alone for a few minutes, leaving me out in our Vibe (yes, one of our vehicles is a Vibe. How hilarious is that?) all by my lonesome. He was delightfully confused and I could see him trying to figure it out while adjusting the keyboard in his lap to a better position to hide his obvious arousal.

As I walked into his room, I told him that yes, it did happen. While he was busy still trying to get a handle on that sudden sexual intrusion, I reached out and got a handle on him and pulled him into my room.

I told him that for this evening, he had three choices available to him as to how the evening played out. The choices were A, B, or C. I told him that two of the choices were pleasurable and visceral, and that one of the choices was a previously-determined ‘wrong’ choice, and would result in punishment. I also added that one of the choices included what he saw already prepared in the kitchen as he came in (two homemade, half-pound cheeseburgers on grilled onion rolls with jalepeno cheese).

He smiled and asked if he could sit on my bed. Nodding and smiling at him (and wondering if his knees had suddenly gone weak), I leaned back in my chair and stretched out my bare, silky smooth legs to rest on the end of the bed directly in his line of sight. His eyes passed over them as he sat and I finished outlining his choices to him.

I told him that that was about all of the information he would receive and would have to make his choice based on that. He said, ‘Well, one of the choices must be dinner and a movie based on what I saw in the kitchen’. I told him that he is assuming too much, as I had never mentioned anything about a movie being part of dinner. He expressed a brief, and lovely concern at the thought of one of the choices being the ‘wrong’ one and leading to punishment. But it didn’t stop him from both smiling and making his choice.He chose C. I laughed and told him that C was the wrong choice. He grinned and asked me if it was in writing anywhere, or if I just made it up. I ignored the question, and proceeded to tell him what was involved in choice C beside the punishment aspect. It was a two-part question that I wished answered. Part one could be answered verbally, and part two was to be written down. Part one was ‘Do you still carry a picture of me in your wallet?’ Part two was ‘List ten joys/exhilirations that you currently have in your life’.

The answer to part one was ‘Yes’. The game continued. I asked him if he wished to know why I asked that. He professed a curiosity, and I told him that I wanted to know because I wanted him to remove that picture and put it in with his private pack of pix that he holds particularly dear. They are pictures from his past, of his family, of certain milestones in his life and his travels. They go with him everywhere when he is on the road (in the past, he was in the Navy, and these pictures were a way for him to always feel his roots and his sense of belonging no matter where he was stationed, or where in the world he went. Since moving out here, he also was an OTR trucker briefly, and took them with him on the road.). The reason I wanted it out of his wallet was that it was taken back in 1999 when we travelled out east to his brother’s wedding. I am no longer the woman in that picture, and he is no longer the man who snapped the picture. We have had our difficulties recently, and are both in the process of reclaiming the people we used to be before we got married and became conjoined twins with no individual sense of identity. But that is another story for another post. I did promise him that if he felt the need in the future to wish to carry a picture of his woman in his wallet, that I would happily provide one.

Now, part two. The list of ten joys/exhilirations. They were written as follows:

1. Our sex life recently
2. Guns (including teaching you)
3. Driving aimlessly
4. Thoughts of a possible future
5. Work
6. My own room
7. Our regained individuality
8. Being able to sleep
9. New tattoos
10. Realizations

Before he started writing, I told him that I did not want him to put me anywhere in that list unless he counted me and our time together as a recent joy/exhiliration. I did not want him to feel obligated to put me in there just because we happen to be married. The list did not take him long to complete. That made me happy, as it means that he has much in his life of late that gives him joy. We discussed his list briefly and he expressed how wonderful it felt for him to be able to have his brain actually working again after such a long period of stagnation. Again, that is a topic for another post. With light hearts, I asked him how many strokes he would like for his punishment and he responded that he wanted to know if there was an infraction involved. I told him no, there was no infraction, that we were having a lovely game together and the punishment aspect was simply for sensation and playfulness. I could see his brows come together for a split second as he remembered that he was currently partnered to a sadist whose idea of ‘playfulness’ probably differed radically from his own, but he thought for a second and answered ‘five’ even before he knew which toy I would select from the large collection I have hanging near the foot of my bed. I accepted that, and told him to present himself accordingly. He had trouble drawing his bike shorts down over his erection for a moment while he was laying on his stomach, but he managed. I gave him five of my best with the rattan cane that he hates/loves, placing them low on his backside and upper thighs so that he would feel them each and every time he stood or sat for the next day or so. I do so love the way a cane sounds as it whips the air right before it bites.

He bore them well, as he always had. I felt cleansed, and reached over to feel his brow and see if he had broken out in a sudden sweat from the sharp pain. Dry as a bone. He lay there for a moment, and I helped him up as he drew the bike shorts back over the erection that he still had. One of the things I adore about this man is his ability to take everything I can give him and love it, not just physically but emotionally as well. No duplicity, and no tolerating pain just so he can get what he wants afterward.

As he regained a sense of normality, he asked what the other two choices were. I told him that choice A was the cheeseburger, coupled with fresh, sugared strawberries and whipped cream for afters. He asked about choice B. I told him that choice B was to be a 45 minute or so (it was a work night for him, after all) brief scene on my bed with him locked in his cuffs, blindfolded and at my supreme mercy, so to speak. There are a few toys I have that I have not felt compelled to use on him in quite some time. You see, I cannot hurt him physically if I do not care deeply for him emotionally and spiritually.

I told him that now we were going to go and enjoy choice A, and quickly before he had a chance to mourn the loss of choice B.

Did I mention that the whipped cream came in a large spray can? The rest of the evening I will have to leave to your fertile imagination.