2007-06-21
(Un)dressing the male submissive
Continuing the story of how we dealt with the mugging of Mrs. Thorney.
On June 3 Mrs. Thorney was mugged. The shoulder surgery was June 5. And June 7 I spirited her out of the hospital, to a hotel across the street.
I don't know if it was just being practical, or careless, or actually planned. It was what I wanted, but I'd never have raised the issue at that point. I was too busy and too tired to tell. The first time I got her from the hospital room into the hotel room, I was hot and sweaty. She had a mild fever (up maybe half a degree Celsius, one degree Fahrenheit.) She was cold and shivery, I was too hot. I stripped my clothes off as I piled blankets on her. It seemed comfortable that way, so that's the way it was, when we were in the hotel room, the next few days.
And I realized that it turned me on to be naked while waiting on her. She really didn't notice at first, but once she became aware that I was deliberately being either naked or wearing just primary-color cotton bikini underpants,we talked about it. She said it didn't make a difference to her - she really didn't get anything from looking at me naked, for her it is about affection and attention and touch, not visual - but if that was how I wanted to dress, OK. I said it turned me on, but I hadn't yet (then) figured out why that was the case.
And once she realized I was turned on by it, she got into the game nicely. Once her left hand was functional (swelling and bruising from having had needles in it for four days or so went down) she could easily pat my bottom, pat or squeeze my cock, roll my balls around between her fingers. I loved and love the order, "get your pants down", when she doesn't want the cotton in the way.
We got back home to Memphis June 17. The next morning she was sitting at the dining room table, and looked out into the garden.
Mrs: "The garden needs weeding, and we need to move some flowers
where I can see them from here."
Mr: I said, "OK, shall I do that after breakfast?"
Mrs: "No, do it now."
Mr: "Wait, I'll go get some pants."
Mrs: "What do you need pants for? No one is likely to see in unless
the meter reader comes, and he could see you even where you are
right now."
It worked. I recall a lot of images from porn of slave girls being required to work in the garden naked, bottoms raised for the owner's enjoyment, perhaps prodded on by an occasional pat with the cane or whip. No cane or whip here, but I've been spending an hour or so on my hands and knees in the garden each morning, practically naked. June 19 and 20 (today) she felt well enough to cautiously walk out and supervise.
I've always hated gardening with her in the past, since she has a strong tendency to micromanage. (We usually end up dividing labors so as to not be working in the garden at the same time.) She now has her chance to micromanage. "Pull that weed. Now that one. The one two inches to the left. Move that plant about three inches forward from where you are planting it...." I'm adoring being micromanaged, and thriving on it. And she rewards me by coming up from behind and squeezing or rubbing my balls just often enough to keep it very sexy and very loving. When the grandchildren start to arrive to visit, I'm really going to miss this part - but I guess I can do it in a bathing suit, and Mrs. Thorney and I will know what we are both thinking about.
Sleeping is still irregular. (More on that in a later post). She gets uncomfortable after two hours or so, and gets us up for an hour or three. And we've done a lot of sitting and talking, in the wee hours, trying to understand what is going on between us (and celebrating it!). We've been having the best discussion of my urges and responses and fantasies that we have ever had.
So she has asked: why do I want, while serving her, to be naked, (or, for practicality, wearing just primary-color bikini underpants)? I think I have an idea.
I love seeing her running around in practically nothing. I love the view, I love to be able to touch, I love the fact that she is doing it to please me. It feeds my dom urge, by expressing her submission, it gives me a sense of ownership (the fact that she doesn't admit to feeling any sense of submission when has done this for me in the past is irrelevant. She says she does it because it makes me happy, attentive, gets her attention.)
But it will be many weeks, or months, until I can have her running around the house naked. Maybe six months until she can crawl to kiss my feet. But I do need to keep up, even more than usual, my interest in her, my attentiveness, my responsiveness. And if I'm essentially undressed, I am constantly aware of it. I notice the breeze when I move, the sensation when I sit down. I need to be aware of where I am and where a robe is in case the doorbell rings.
(Hmm - when she is undressed and I'm dressed, she can get out of sight while I answer the bell. But right now she can't get to the door in time, usually. And if I'm the sub, it is my job to answer it anyway.)
Being aware of my state of undress constantly reminds me to think of her, her needs, her desires. It reminds me of the sexuality of our relationship. I can understand that it doesn't say "sex" to her - but she understands that it does say that, to me.
And another thing. I want her. I want her body. I want her desperately. And I want her to want me as badly as I want her. I want to feel wanted. I want to feel she wants my body the same way I want hers. Now, rationally, I know full well that men and women react differently - that a lot of it is visual for me, a lot of it is genital-oriented. For her, I know, it is about attention, affection, cuddling. She does love lovemaking, sex, climax, but those aren't in her thoughts as constantly as they are in mine.
She isn't turned on by my taking my clothes off, the way I am when she is undressed. But, at some subconscious level, I want her to be. I want to be as sexy for her as she is for me. So I want her to want my clothes off. By letting me serve her with my clothes off, she is respecting and responding to my desire to be wanted in that way.
She may not enjoy my exhibitionism the way I wish she did, but she allows it, understands it, respects it, honors it. And she does so very explicitly, by frequently during the day giving my cock a squeeze, patting my balls, rolling my balls around between her fingers.
It's a modest sexual reward, compared to what we had in better times, but -- wow! wow! wow! I'm loved! I'm wanted! She wants my body! I am put into heaven (and sometimes a massive erection) by a simple touch. As a submissive, I'm loved and wanted and appreciated and, right now, I'm in heaven.
(Un)dressing the male submissive
Continuing the story of how we dealt with the mugging of Mrs. Thorney.
On June 3 Mrs. Thorney was mugged. The shoulder surgery was June 5. And June 7 I spirited her out of the hospital, to a hotel across the street.
I don't know if it was just being practical, or careless, or actually planned. It was what I wanted, but I'd never have raised the issue at that point. I was too busy and too tired to tell. The first time I got her from the hospital room into the hotel room, I was hot and sweaty. She had a mild fever (up maybe half a degree Celsius, one degree Fahrenheit.) She was cold and shivery, I was too hot. I stripped my clothes off as I piled blankets on her. It seemed comfortable that way, so that's the way it was, when we were in the hotel room, the next few days.
And I realized that it turned me on to be naked while waiting on her. She really didn't notice at first, but once she became aware that I was deliberately being either naked or wearing just primary-color cotton bikini underpants,we talked about it. She said it didn't make a difference to her - she really didn't get anything from looking at me naked, for her it is about affection and attention and touch, not visual - but if that was how I wanted to dress, OK. I said it turned me on, but I hadn't yet (then) figured out why that was the case.
And once she realized I was turned on by it, she got into the game nicely. Once her left hand was functional (swelling and bruising from having had needles in it for four days or so went down) she could easily pat my bottom, pat or squeeze my cock, roll my balls around between her fingers. I loved and love the order, "get your pants down", when she doesn't want the cotton in the way.
We got back home to Memphis June 17. The next morning she was sitting at the dining room table, and looked out into the garden.
Mrs: "The garden needs weeding, and we need to move some flowers
where I can see them from here."
Mr: I said, "OK, shall I do that after breakfast?"
Mrs: "No, do it now."
Mr: "Wait, I'll go get some pants."
Mrs: "What do you need pants for? No one is likely to see in unless
the meter reader comes, and he could see you even where you are
right now."
It worked. I recall a lot of images from porn of slave girls being required to work in the garden naked, bottoms raised for the owner's enjoyment, perhaps prodded on by an occasional pat with the cane or whip. No cane or whip here, but I've been spending an hour or so on my hands and knees in the garden each morning, practically naked. June 19 and 20 (today) she felt well enough to cautiously walk out and supervise.
I've always hated gardening with her in the past, since she has a strong tendency to micromanage. (We usually end up dividing labors so as to not be working in the garden at the same time.) She now has her chance to micromanage. "Pull that weed. Now that one. The one two inches to the left. Move that plant about three inches forward from where you are planting it...." I'm adoring being micromanaged, and thriving on it. And she rewards me by coming up from behind and squeezing or rubbing my balls just often enough to keep it very sexy and very loving. When the grandchildren start to arrive to visit, I'm really going to miss this part - but I guess I can do it in a bathing suit, and Mrs. Thorney and I will know what we are both thinking about.
Sleeping is still irregular. (More on that in a later post). She gets uncomfortable after two hours or so, and gets us up for an hour or three. And we've done a lot of sitting and talking, in the wee hours, trying to understand what is going on between us (and celebrating it!). We've been having the best discussion of my urges and responses and fantasies that we have ever had.
So she has asked: why do I want, while serving her, to be naked, (or, for practicality, wearing just primary-color bikini underpants)? I think I have an idea.
I love seeing her running around in practically nothing. I love the view, I love to be able to touch, I love the fact that she is doing it to please me. It feeds my dom urge, by expressing her submission, it gives me a sense of ownership (the fact that she doesn't admit to feeling any sense of submission when has done this for me in the past is irrelevant. She says she does it because it makes me happy, attentive, gets her attention.)
But it will be many weeks, or months, until I can have her running around the house naked. Maybe six months until she can crawl to kiss my feet. But I do need to keep up, even more than usual, my interest in her, my attentiveness, my responsiveness. And if I'm essentially undressed, I am constantly aware of it. I notice the breeze when I move, the sensation when I sit down. I need to be aware of where I am and where a robe is in case the doorbell rings.
(Hmm - when she is undressed and I'm dressed, she can get out of sight while I answer the bell. But right now she can't get to the door in time, usually. And if I'm the sub, it is my job to answer it anyway.)
Being aware of my state of undress constantly reminds me to think of her, her needs, her desires. It reminds me of the sexuality of our relationship. I can understand that it doesn't say "sex" to her - but she understands that it does say that, to me.
And another thing. I want her. I want her body. I want her desperately. And I want her to want me as badly as I want her. I want to feel wanted. I want to feel she wants my body the same way I want hers. Now, rationally, I know full well that men and women react differently - that a lot of it is visual for me, a lot of it is genital-oriented. For her, I know, it is about attention, affection, cuddling. She does love lovemaking, sex, climax, but those aren't in her thoughts as constantly as they are in mine.
She isn't turned on by my taking my clothes off, the way I am when she is undressed. But, at some subconscious level, I want her to be. I want to be as sexy for her as she is for me. So I want her to want my clothes off. By letting me serve her with my clothes off, she is respecting and responding to my desire to be wanted in that way.
She may not enjoy my exhibitionism the way I wish she did, but she allows it, understands it, respects it, honors it. And she does so very explicitly, by frequently during the day giving my cock a squeeze, patting my balls, rolling my balls around between her fingers.
It's a modest sexual reward, compared to what we had in better times, but -- wow! wow! wow! I'm loved! I'm wanted! She wants my body! I am put into heaven (and sometimes a massive erection) by a simple touch. As a submissive, I'm loved and wanted and appreciated and, right now, I'm in heaven.
--
Thorney
Thorney
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