Craving violence

Life has been so stressful since he lost his job. I won’t go into the details here because they’re not relevant to my headspace or to kinky sex or to submission, but I’ll leave it at – it was totally bogus and infuriating. And while he’s picked up a couple of temping assignments, it’s been rough. He was the full time worker. I do work from home, but my primary job is watching our daughter. So tensions have been high between applying for unemployment, putting our student loans into deferment while we scramble to replace his full time position and do the other un-fun necessities related to losing your primary source of income.

It’s been nervewracking. Wondering if we’ll miss a mortgage payment, wondering if we’ll be able to buy enough food, pay all the bills. Most of the worry is superfluous; we’re savers. We have enough in the bank to live through January even if he gets denied unemployment (which is unlikely in the first place). If we empty my 401k and cash out our savings bond it can go on longer. While job hunting is rough, in his field he should be able to find work fairly fast…and the funny part is it’s likely he’ll end up making more than he was at his previous firm. But it’s still nervewracking and tensions have been high.

Understandably, sex has mostly fallen to the wayside. There’s been the occasional lurid encounter – during one memorable babygirl nap we spent the time with my mouth covered by a pillow to muffle my screams and his fist jammed inside me over and over. He made a heroic effort at a second hand, too, but concluded I was just too small for that. (Fisting hurts. Attempting to add more fingers = sore cunt.) Despite the failure to double fist, the attempt turned him on enough that for the first time in a long time we had anal sex with no lube when it wasn’t a punishment or connected with misbehavior on my end. He was just turned on so much he had to have me right then – which meant both my ass and pussy spent the rest of the day throbbing. It’s rare for him to get turned on enough to lose sight of details (like, yanno, LUBE) so it’s a definitely been a memory haunting my fantasies.

But with tensions and stress levels so high often times we spend the day worrying and doing everything we can to manage our new reality (by applying for jobs or taking on new work-at-home projects) that we fall into bed exhausted.

I know it’s been hard on him but without being inside his head, I can’t really analyze it. My own headspace is another story.

It’s interesting because..you’d think the stresses of life would have shoved off my libido. And the first night and first day afterwards, it did. But afterwards, I find myself desperate for a new level of intensity, depravity, and servitude. I can’t word that any better – I’m desperate for it. I haven’t – and won’t – push for it, although I did confess tonight that in the past two weeks I haven’t really felt like I belonged to him. It would be hard to – he’s been so busy and so stressed.

I know it’s not a lack of desire on his part, because while making love a week ago the night of my birthday he sort … I don’t even know how to explain it, but took advantage of me being desperate to get fucked to formally extend our agreement for the rest of the year. He started fucking me, and got me to the edge of orgasm – that place where you teeter on the edge of a cliff and would do anything, anything if your lover would just push you over.

That story would be much hotter – I surrendered my autonomy for the rest of the year for an orgasm! – except that I didn’t remember it until he told me about it the next day. I was so deeply in the moment I think I would have agreed to let him cut off my arm if he’d just have fucked me harder.

So it’s not like there’s not a desire to own me. He may have been slow coming into this agreement, but it’s been him who pushed each time to extend our agreement – not me. I am almost completely confident that he wouldn’t let me out of this if I thought I wanted to – he understands, or at least from my perspective seems to understand, how deeply entwined with my sexuality the need to submit and be owned is. (That sentence took me ten minutes to write. When did it become a need? Or perhaps more accurately, when did I realize it was a need and not just a new bit of spice for a ten-year-old sex life?) And it seems to push more buttons for him than he had thought it would – he taunted me the other day that tears from him saucing me from a punishment the other day (which reminds me, I need to write that story soon lest it too be lost in the morass of memory) had made him hard.

I know the desire is there. But he’s just too tense.

And I desperately want to ease that tension for him. I’ve done everything I can, helped him screen job ads and done the paperwork I can and done my best to cook and clean and budget to a higher degree and everything to make him comfortable. But I can’t help but feel as if I’ve been shoved to the wayside right now. We had months where every day, I knew that all of me was his. That for that day, my body was his and my mind was his and he would exert that control however he wanted to, and that fulfilled both of us.

But right now, I don’t. Part of me feels like this is selfish on my part, that spanking me and beating me and fucking me are low on the priority list. And like I said, I will not push him for any of it – but I can’t help but that feel that way. I need him to beat me, spank my ass and whip my tits until I cry. I need him to force me to endure things that get him off, things I don’t like or want. With things so uncertain I need to feel that control over me, the certainty that I’m his…and I don’t.

And I feel like he’s holding back. That he’s so tense right now he’s afraid to give into the sadism, afraid to use me to let off steam and express what the turmoil he’s dealing with in his own mind. I can’t help but feel that I could be useful and help him in a way that right now he won’t let me…

In my head, he pulls me into his office roughly, and covers my mouth. He tells me that tonight, he just needs me to endure. That it has been a hard week and he needs something – or someone – to take that out on. That tonight he just needs me to take the pain as he uses my body to relieve his tension. That it will hurt, but I need to endure it for him..that even if it doesn’t get me off, it will get him off, and I just need to take it, no safeword unless something unintended has happened because if I only want to stop because I think I can’t endure, he needs me to endure more…

The fantasy plays out in so many ways. Sometimes he binds my arms and canes me past endurance, physically letting off steam on my willing body. Sometimes he slaps my breasts and ass and cunt, switching to his belt when his hand needs a break until my body is covered in weals and welts and bruises. Sometimes he clamps my breasts and nipples and clips, sometimes my breasts and nipples and then sauces my clit while he bites me, leaving teeth-mark imprint bruises all over my flesh.

In these fantasies, I never end up getting off. Because these aren’t out my own orgasm – they’re about the need to make him feel better, the need to be the vehicle for relieving his stress. They end up in him getting off – sometimes he fucks my mouth after saucing my cunt and ass, so I gasp and gag and choke as my bottom burns and he takes his pleasure from my mouth. And sometimes it’s an even darker fantasy that I can’t yet put into words.

These fantasies are interesting to me because I’ve never been a selfless submissive. My priority has always been my husband even before we called a spade a spade and named our D/s relationship for it really is – a power exchange, a power imbalance. But I’ve always told him that no matter what we’re doing it’s very sexual for me, and I want to get off from it. (He doesn’t always let me, but that doesn’t make it less sexual.)

But these fantasies – while I get off masturbating to me because they are so deeply, darkly erotic – aren’t about getting me off. They’re more of an expression of a craving to serve him, to serve needs he’s busy ignoring right now. They’re an intensity that I normally don’t think I could tolerate without a lot of buildup – but the point to them is to disregard my need for buildup because the only thing that matters is my presence, my willingness to endure for him. They do not sound fun to me. At all. And in normal circumstances, they’re an intensity that I simply wouldn’t feel a desire to experience except in fantasy, a level of darkness best left for the moments in your own head.

But right now, the craving to have him beat me harder than we have ever played with is very, very real – the craving to serve him in the way he seems to need most right now.

I doubt he ever will. But the craving is undeniably there.