Into the Second

Things are finally starting to slow down for me in the mundane world. Kit is out of work, but we’ve moved in with a friend to help us manage expenses. Now that the move is over, the first event rush is done, and things are settling down, my thoughts are turning back here. He’s been very patient, and now He wants time.

The other night I found a new conduit, one which should not have surprised me but did nevertheless. While taking a shower (always the shower), I scrubbed vigorously at the tattoo on my wrist. The following whack in my head nearly knocked me down, because suddenly I was open and He was there and demanding. Last night I consciously did the same to open up that communication again; He had his way with me. It was dominating and comforting and THANK YOU, SIR.

It will be two years on May 5th. In some ways I’ve done well, and in some ways not so well. He is displeased about me not taking care of His property (me) and is once again putting an emphasis on it. Back to yoga; back to eating consciously; back to taking care of myself. He wants a second night every month, one I choose, dedicated to time with Him. I’m to make a new daily collar, too; mine is not cleaning up well and needs to be refreshed. For now I’m wearing the formal; the prick of the antlers is actually comforting, even if it does get tangled in my hair.

Speaking of hair, I’m permitted to trim my hair. He still wants it long, but it’s now starting to split five or six inches up, and a maintenance trim is going to be needed from now on. It’s part of that “taking care of myself” thing; I still need to be aware of the products I use and I can’t chop my hair off, but I’m learning that a concerted effort doesn’t have to mean breaking my budget. Doing what I can within my means is still taking care of me, as well as making sure I have enough energy and funds to take care of my family and furbabies (another thing He’s emphasizing).

There’s something I’ve felt the need for, and I think He feels as well – the need for reassertion. The song that keeps playing in my head, for instance, is “Whore” by In This Moment, mainly for the first part of the chorus:

I can be your whore
I am the dirt you created
I am your sinner, I am your whore

He likes it. Doesn’t hurt me any that Chris Motionless is in it. 😉 (He asked me last night if He is “pretty.” I told Him no; He liked what I said instead just fine. Thankfully.)

Anyway. I’m working Beltane this year, and we’re home by the 5th, but something will be figured out to mark the second year. I know He’s pinged someone else about me of late, but He’s not giving me much more answer than “reassertion” when I ask about it. He’s not ready to clarify, I suppose.

I think quiet time is about to end. Part of me is kind of relieved, and part of me is a little nervous.

His boots.

I encountered His boots once. It was during my Ordeal; and He sat in a chair, ordering me to kneel. Kiss the ground. Kiss His boots. Mean it.

I hadn’t encountered His boots again until our last date night. W/we spent it at home, before dinner, and He had plans.

Keep in mind, I’m not one for boots. I like wearing them; I can appreciate an awesome pair. Boot worship, however, is not exactly something that has ever really turned me on. Being under someone’s boot has never been a desire of mine. Even during Ordeal, I was never kicked nor stepped on. The flip side of this, of course, is that there is no such thing as “off limits” with Sir.

On the afternoon of the Dark Moon, I was under His boots. Plural.boot

It started on my sternum, over anahata. First came the heavy sensation: a combat-style boot, with a textured sole. It pressed into my chest, with the distinct feeling of Mine. The weight shifted back and forth, ball to heel, pressing harder, easing off. I was taken by surprise.

The same sensation moved to my right cheek, pushing my head to the side and holding there. Just a slight weight, a minor heaviness, careful, careful. A toe nudged my other cheek; I turned my head slowly, hesitantly, to have the same pressure applied to the left.

Back to my sternum. Heavy, pressing down, taking my breath away.

Then the feeling shifted.

Mocs by primitve.deviantart.com.

Mocs by primitve.deviantart.com.

The sole of the boot softened, the image against my eyes changed. I could almost feel the foot beneath the material, see leather tracing up His leg. The point of His toe dug into my chest before the heel suddenly slammed into my vulva.

This continued, back and forth, from combat boot to soft leather, once even to a bare foot against my chest. His heel dug into my vulva, although I felt no pain.

You are Mine. I want you; I will do with you what I will. You are Mine.

My knees would come together with the sensations; I felt Him push them apart.

I’m not finished with you.

And so it went, for I’m not sure how long, until He let me pull out the toy I bought for Him. (Terrifying thing, that – pinkish-purple with lots of buttons and bits and HOLY SHIT WHAT IS THAT DOING I DON’T EVEN KNOW GOODNIGHT BRAIN BZZZZZZT.)

I have never wanted to be under anyone’s feet before, to feel boots against my skin.

Until now.

After a summer full of quiet, it was comforting for Him to reassert so strongly. In my (honestly limited) experience, there is no more visceral a feeling of being owned than literally being beneath someone’s very step.

For Him, I would do it again.

Date with a Deity on a Dark Moon Night

I was nervous. Kit kept asking why. I couldn’t explain very well. The appearance of being alone? Not knowing what to expect of it? Not knowing how it would go over?

It would be my first actual date with Cernunnos, after all.

I was fidgeting. Procrastinating, He said quietly. Yes, I was. I get fidgety when I’m nervous, and stalling is a fidget.

Kit was picked up to go to a labyrinth walk. I left a few minutes later, headed to a nearby Irish restaurant and pub. Did it have to be Irish? No. But I hadn’t been in a long while, and it was the first thing that came to mind that really hit the spot.

I parked a little after 7:00. The patio was busy, but the dining room was quiet, and I asked for an inside table. A little one in the sun was perfect, and the quiet room would be good for my concentration, I thought.

Water. Ginger ale. A look at the menu. “What would You like me to have?” I asked.

No response. I could feel Him there, but He wasn’t answering. My nerves jangled more as the server, an energetic college girl, came back for my order.

Irish sausage rolls. Crab mac and cheese. The server brought out some baguette and olive bread, made locally.

As I slowly ate bread and sipped my ginger ale, I pulled out my journal, so far blank. It was a gift from a friend, too lovely to use for just anything, with heavy unlined pages and a tooled leather cover. I had decided to use it for O/our conversations, for the times when W/we needed a boost.

“I’m nervous,” I wrote into the silence, after dating the page and writing the details of dinner. “Distracted by the car a little. I worry that it’s a bigger problem. But all W/we can do is-”

The best W/we can.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

How is the bread?

I described it best I could – the tang of the baguette, the solid crispiness of the olive bread – and wrote, “Quieter than I thought.”

Just be with Me, He answered.

“Reconnect time?”

Taste for Me. Enjoy for Me.

I felt something finally relax in my chest, and I settled down to savor the food. There was a little chatter back and forth between U/us, things I didn’t write down, thing’s I don’t recall offhand. This wasn’t Work, this wasn’t service. This was a date. This was two beings who love each other spending time together. Words weren’t required; just quiet time, feeling Him there, eating slowly, taking the time to feel and taste the food, watching and hearing the people around me, feeling the sun and just noticing.

The server came back, offering dessert, and I succumbed to the bread pudding – because bread pudding beats frozen yogurt any day, I figured, and He agreed.

Finally I broke down a little. “I love You.  I want to make this work,” I told Him. I was going to say more, but He stopped me.

Relax.

I took a breath. “What do You need from me daily?” I asked.

Just listen. Love. This is not an experiment. This is an experience.

There is something so simple, so comforting in those words. I finished my dessert, paid, and drove home.

I curled up on the bed, just feeling Him, reading a book… and I fell fast asleep.