Why a Contract? The Backstory.

Yesterday was another day of lovely sex and open conversation, Mistress. It was nice to get off the semi-abstinence wagon and have some long, hard fucks with you. I particularly enjoyed last night, when you allowed me to take you from behind. You seemed to come very hard as I invoked the Uber E, and your latent desire that he take control of you in that way.

But I thought it would be nice to step back and generate for whatever readers there are out there in blogland the story about how we decided to sign a contract that involves my total surrender to your control.

Of course, we have always had great sex. Before we were married we had our special love nest, a studio in our cozy downtown equipped with only a few pieces of furniture, including a futon bed. You were so young then – 23, 24? I almost felt guilty taking advantage of you there, weekday afternoons, or an occasional Sunday morning when we told our spouses that we had work to do. (Bad, very Bad).

Frequently our games involved you tied to the futon, spread for me, as I licked and fucked you to our hearts’ content. At first you probably thought I was a bit strange, but seemed to relish those times. But there was no real talk of submission. Once the ropes were untied, we were back to a more conventional affair, with me at an age and level of boring maturity closer to father than contemporary. I always had trouble figuring out what you saw in me, but was flattered and delighted to have you at my side.

And there were some nice field trips where we went slightly beyond the edge of sex ordinaire. I can remember that trip to the B & B in Tennessee, a hike, you tied to a tree, me on my knees pleasuring you. Or walking the streets of D.C., your hands cuffed behind you under your raincoat, bottom still sore from a nice spanking with a wooden hairbrush.

Again, these were only little detours, not any committed power exchange involving a commitment to submit. And lets face it, you are not really the submissive type.

As years passed, kids were born and raised and your career blossomed, we spent less time on these types of activities. Great sex. Frequent and robust. But mostly vanilla.

We both acknowledge that things deteriorated a bit between us in the years when we spent too many working days away from one another. It was a loss of intimacy. Too much of the burden of child rearing on you. Me feeling dissed. Not much fun for either of us. We enjoyed our weekends together. But it was not what either one of us envisioned when we decided to marry in the heat of love and passion all those years ago, with one child in arms and another on the way. I should have begged you to stay but was too proud to beg.

So I fucked up. Did something that betrayed and hurt you. That afternoon when you discovered what was going on we were fortunate that the kids were away. And between your tears and anger and my shame and remorse, we held ourselves together with what brought us together in the first place: extraordinary sex. I can’t recall how many times we did it that night. But it seemed we barely slept. And at some point, in the middle of the night, as I was trying to convince you that I would do whatever it would take to keep you. And you were on top of me, riding my cock, using your fingers on my balls. And you informed me, as you rode me, between our grunts and gasps and moans, that if I would be calling you mistress from then on; and that I was now going to be your slave. (it sends shivers through me now to think about, Mistress). You had tapped into a dormant fantasy of my own, apparently.

And we both came, almost together, exhausted, but knowing we were onto something new that might be the right path after too many years of drifting apart. We had found something that has blossomed over the last 14 months, as I have ceded more and more power to you in this relationship. A burden for you, no doubt. But a blessing for me.

Will finish the rest of this “back story” in my next installment, Mistress.