I’m sipping Sumatra and munching on melon. And all I can think about is the other night.

We don’t have a lot of time for each other these days. If one of us is off, the other is working. M’s taken to taking long lunches to get errands done so that maybe we’ll have time after work to be together, but that just postpones the work we still have to do. It’s been … at least since before we moved since I’ve had a good long beating. But we’ve been fucking like bunnies, so that helps some.

The lack of time to connect, though, is driving us both insane. And I’ve been gripping the other night in my mind like a fisherman clings to the mast of his vessel in a storm, hoping against hope that the skies will clear and the world will be right again.

In the meantime …

I’m not really sure how we got there, but I was ordered to the bedroom. I’m pretty sure M told me to lay on my back on the bed, but it was covered in laundry. Usually, this is an easy remedy. Scoop and drop, easy. We’ve got a trunk at the end of the bed where laundry goes when I’m in a hurry to get my butt in bed. (read: when M’s already trying to shove me face first into the mattress) But it wasn’t in a pile! So I had to scoop and drop more than once! And in the dark, I couldn’t tell what that long, thin, black thing stretched between the pillows was. I figured I’d just shove it out of the way when I got comfortable.

Even with his bad eyesight, M recognized the object immediately. “Oh look! You left Daddy’s belt on the bed.” and he shoved me on my face. As he kicked my feet apart, he plunged his cock inside me and folded the leather in his hands.

I actually shook in fear. It’s been that long.

But something happened the first time he brought the belt down on my trembling thigh. A spark ignited deep inside me that has lain dormant for quite some time. And I opened up to him in a way I haven’t in … Gods, just forever. I could feel the endorphins, too, but this was something much different. Something that started somewhere at my core and spread throughout my body like warm honey. And I relaxed into the mattress as much as one can when one is thrusting into frenzied thrusting, the image of us flashing behind my half-closed lids.

When we were both finished, he watched me. Through everything I did, I could see him looking at me. Watching to see how I was going to handle what we’d done. Or what he’d done to me, rather.

And something had changed. But for the better. My mood lifted, and I was able to concentrate. It was so bizarre. In between cuddling up to him, and kissing his neck, I got my work done in no time. And then, I just … enjoyed him.

Maybe it’s mental. Maybe it’s conditioning. Maybe it’s just how I process things. But there’s a part of me that needs interactions like these. From being thrown around and beaten down, to snuggling up to him when he’s finished with me. Granted, I won’t wither and die without them. But I’m much happier after them.