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“Not even a little.”
“Good.”
After the joking, it was quiet for a while, then the talk he’d mentioned started, and things got a lot more serious. It was needed, though, and good, to be candid with each other. We didn’t know each other well in many ways, and some of those were important to get into the open.
“I know little about what you expect from all this. I mess with you about getting dildos, which I’d want to get, but you didn’t say one way or the other if that’s something you’ll do. I’m not good at the talking part, Eli, so be patient with me.”
“You’re doing fine,” I said, and I meant it. “It’s not easy in… well, I guess this setting, a couple people, driving in a truck. I’ve only ever had this kind of discussion at the clubs, or after, with a couple of guys, like Harvey, but he wasn’t much interested in what I wanted. That was my fault too. I can’t blame him for all of it.”
“I’m guessing you clammed up about your expectations, thinking that was being a good submissive.”
He knew me well already. “Yeah. Exactly. He didn’t argue about that either.”
“I’m sure he didn’t. Eli, I get it. When you figure out what you are in this lifestyle, you get some ideas about what that’s about. Like, say, dominant men and women, they can go overboard, ordering a sub around, whipping the shit out of them if the sub says they like some pain. It’s not a trial-and-error thing, though. I guess, that spoon, well, I didn’t want to go off, beating you with the thing, not knowing exactly what you mean by liking pain.”
“I figured,” I said, chuckling nervously. “I…” It was harder to verbalize than I thought it would be. “I told you it took me out of my head. A little pain takes me a little bit out, more pain takes more. I don’t mind a lot of pain. No, wait, that sounded wrong. I have a high pain tolerance, and it’s more than me not minding it. I like it. When you live in your head, and something takes you out of that, it’s great. Some other people I know use drugs and booze to do it, but they never worked for me. The first time I asked a Dom at a club to go for broke on me, it was like some revelation. It got me off, you know, like it should, I guess, but damn, my head was clear, and I could focus. I got into it, and I experimented. The first dozen times in the club, after I learned the ropes…”
“No pun intended?”
“No,” I said, and I was grinning at that point. I found it much easier to say things to Noah than I thought it would be. “After I learned about things, I got harder and harder Doms, and people would warn me about some, that they, consensually of course, could get rough. I did it, and none of it ever ended badly, let’s just say.”
“I see,” he said, and I thought he meant he didn’t want to be that rough.
“If you can’t, then don’t worry about that!”
“No, Eli, I want to hear this, that’s all. I’m not judging or planning a rebuttal. I’m listening.”
That was something I wasn’t used to. “Okay, okay. Well, then, after I figured that out, I wanted to experiment more with other things. I, uh, loved being controlled. I guess I’ve always felt a little out of control, with my head racing and all that. And yes, I was disciplined as a kid, and that wasn’t it. I liked a man to do it, to put me in that place that I could just hand it all over, my worry and my will. It’s… weird to say that, and I felt judged, but not by you. I say it out loud and I think,wow, I am crazy.”
“You’re not crazy,” Noah said to me sternly. “A lot of men and women love to be controlled. Most feel they have to control every moment of their lives, and it’s nice to take a load off, so to speak. You’re not wrong, crazy, weird, or anything like that.”
When he said it, I believed it. “Well, then, with that, let’s just say, when I finally figured it all out, or most of it, I doubt if anyone knows all of it. Once I figured myself in it out, I knew I was all submissive, and I wanted to push it as far as I could, with someone willing to go there with me, sure, but more than that. I figured out I wanted to serve. I enjoy making sure the guy I’m with is totally happy and satisfied. That gets me off the most.”
“Okay. That was a… lot.” He said, grabbing my hand quickly, then releasing it again. “You’re not some unicorn, Eli. A lot of men feel the way you do, and I have to admit, I enjoyed playing with all of them. My husband was submissive. We met that way, like you and that fuckhead you were with. He was like I was telling you, working so much, always in control of things around the firm, having to bark orders at paralegals and clerks and interns. Shit, he’d be so tense when he’d come back on weekends that he looked ready to shatter, and I’d take him to the bedroom and get him relaxed. He would shed all that and hand it to me for the weekends, and when he went back to work, he was ready to be in control again.”
I stared down at my hands running over my jeans. “I control nothing, though.”
“Sure, you do. Honey, don’t you see? Your PTSD, your ADHD, which is why I’m figuring you have those racing thoughts and such. You walk around all day trying to get control of them. You control yourself all the time. You need a break. You need help, and I know you can take all the pills they throw at you, get therapy for years, and still, it feels like you won’t ever feel safe. I had some PTSD of my own, Eli. I know how you feel, though I’m sure yours is much worse.”
“We’re not competing, like you said. Your problems aren’t any bigger or smaller than anyone else’s. They’re just yours.”
“God, youdolisten to me,” he said, laughing. “Thanks, I guess I needed that. You get what I mean, though?”
I did. “Yeah.”
“Good. So, you’ve gotten it out,” he said as he passed a semi. “I know that’s difficult, admitting that stuff. Just so you know, for a real Dom, a decent one, hopefully, that’s me. It’s difficult too. To tell what we want and expect, it’s hard.”
“I never knew that.”
“Well, maybe it isn’t for some, but it’s always been for me. I like to control a man, to take all that he feels and make it easier for him just to be… him. Maybe that makes little sense, but it’s my way. I was always like that, like you said about yourself. If I could make things easier on someone, I did. It never bothered me to take their worries and such. I liked it, and later, when I found the lifestyle, I found ways to get off on it. I put every kinky thing I liked and was mostly ashamed to try with vanilla guys, and I found my outlet.”
“Damn,” I breathed, as that speech got me going. I had to squeeze my crotch to keep my wood from popping out more as we were about to pass another semi.
“Kinky fucker,” he accused laughingly. “Yeah, so don’t worry about me unless you don’t like to be stared at, played with, especially your ass. I like asses, and yours is fucking exceptional. Tight, firm, nice, small hole… fuck! Now I’m gettin’ hard.”
“I… uh, like all of that. I’m good.”
“I might, oh, reach over and slap your ass now and then, or give you a pinch, something now and then to keep you on your toes, make you think of what’s coming later. How’d that be?”
