Dominance in fantasy and reality

Naked man kneels on the floor, kissing the shoe of a woman in a maid's uniform

Some days all I need is to sink my nails deep in Jimmy’s flesh, and hear him whimper, and not let go. And some days all I want is a back rub and some vanilla caresses. I’ve been sick through the most part of the last two months (better now, thank you), and it’s been quite a revelation to me how my dominant side behaved when fever and pain were at the forefront.

I’ve long known that, when I’m sick, I don’t particularly feel like bottoming, but this bout of flu and related unpleasantness was my first since I made friends with my dominant side. It’s been interesting to find how my psyche reacted.

I still wanted to give orders. I most of all desired to be pampered, taken care of, and spoiled to a ridiculous degree. All perfectly domly desires, and for the few days I spent with Jimmy, I’m sure we could have got into a routine where he catered to my every whim, his only reward a benevolent smile and a pat on the rump.

Instead, my guilt switched on. I still ended up mostly cared for, but I couldn’t make it kinky, because I was feeling so damn terrible about it. Instead of being pleasurable, it was excruciating.

I also wanted to give pain, but I couldn’t trust myself to provide the necessary aftercare. Which would have been irresponsible and inconsiderate. So I reined in my sadism, and basically turned into a very small, very pathetic feline who was harbouring evil thoughts, but not really acting on any of them.

It’s been an interesting two months.

Now I’m sufficiently recovered that I’ve gone back to being satisfyingly evil to Jimmy, but that’s another story entirely.

Jimmy Holloway and his home-made spreader bar

 

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