While neither of us like the physical distance between us, I think that it is harder on my Master than it is on me. I have things I can do – this blog, my assortment of daily rituals – but he doesn’t in the same way. And as a self-proclaimed “response junkie,” not being able to see and hear me is often incredibly frustrating for him. Last night was one of those nights. Emails got more and more stern, expectations got higher. He called me just to tell me that he was currently obsessed with the thought of me crying. The full weight of his want and need was in his every word, even before he sent me some supplemental bedtime instructions. Instructions clearly aimed at ensuring that if he was going to suffer, then I would feel it right along with him.
When you’re kneeling tonight, put your arms behind your back and press your wrists together. Bring your face down to the ground, with a high-heel shoe where your mouth can reach. That’s your position tonight.
Since one of my nightly tasks is to meditate on my submission, I usually choose a kneeling position that is very comfortable, so that I can focus on my thoughts and not on my position. But last night, the instant I assumed the required position, a single thought raced through my brain. “You’ve been doing this wrong up until now. This is right.” Kneeling in that precarious and uncomfortable way created an instant focus in me on my submission.
As instructed, one of my sex shoes was right next to my face, and I could smell its familiar smell from all the times I have sucked and fucked it for him in the past, a smell that is in itself a pathway to the center of my submission. I knew he wouldn’t have told me to put it there if he didn’t want me to do something with it, so I kissed and licked as much of it as I could in my position, and again, found that I was able to do that in a very focused way, getting lost in the moment, in serving him with my mouth through the shoe.
This wasn’t a position for thoughtful meditation. It was a position that took me over, that demanded of me that I submit, just as he does. So I didn’t try to meditate on my submission, I just existed in that space as long as I could, until my shaking legs and aching arms forced me to stop.
He and I both agree, that despite the clear message of my brain, my comfortable kneeling position isn’t actually wrong. It has its place, but so do others, particularly when what is needed is for me to feel the immediacy of my submission, to feel what he is feeling in that moment. I want and need to be uncomfortable when he is – it feels right. It brings me closer to him.
long-distance sub 