The first thing I noticed when he walked in the door was the smell of her perfume. It reached my nose in subtle wafts miles before he did, so different from his usual scent that I wondered fleetingly how men who try to hide it ever think they’re fooling anyone. But of course, he isn’t trying to hide it.
When he crushed me to him in a tight bear hug, I was enveloped in the scent of her. It clung to him everywhere and I took a deep sniff, trying to find the essence of him somewhere in that cloud.
“You smell like her,” I said, a little shyly.
There was a beat of silence and then I cleared my throat and stepped back a little. Trying for nonchalant cheerfulness, I asked, “How was she? How was it?”
He hesitated and I figured he was weighing his options. Downplay it and say it was awful so I wouldn’t get jealous, or tell me how awesome it was so I *would* get jealous. But it’s all so new, so…fragile… and he’s playing it safe yet.
“I came.” he said gruffly, and walked away.
So. He (we) met a girl.
The idea of M taking on a second slave seems to have been the hot topic of Q&A month. That’s some uncanny timing, let me tell ya.
I can’t/won’t/ain’t gonna try and predict the future for where their (our) relationship is heading. Because I don’t know. None of us do. For now we are just enjoying it for what it is and wherever it goes is where it goes.
In my world, it’s more about him and her than about me and her. You know what I mean? She’s been very, very mindful of my feelings in all of this, and while I greatly appreciate that gesture from her, it’s not necessary for me. It’s backward. But I get that it’s necessary for her and I’m trying to find my footing in all of this. I’m not used to a relationship where I have clout. Where my feelings matter. To be honest, I don’t know what to do with it or about it. My preference is to hold my hands up in mock surrender and hide behind Master. He’s the decision-maker. He’s the one who tells me what to think, to feel, to do. It’s uncomfortable and foreign to have someone asking me, and wanting to only hear what I say.
The relationship between her and I will succeed or fail based solely on the relationship between him and her. No matter how much I may want or like her, if HE doesn’t, it’s off. So when it comes to my involvement, I’m mostly (should be) in the background while they establish whatever it is they are going to establish.
I don’t know where I matter. I don’t know that I want to matter.
Anyway. She needed to know I was on board. I am. Now they’ve gotta do their thing. ~fades comfortably into the background~
There’s been a lot of talking. Months and months worth of flirting, of weighing, of yes/no/maybe. There’s been several instances of play between the two of them. She’s not a heavy bottom, and she’s not a limitless slave, either. It’s been fun and interesting and somewhat amusing for me to watch Master have to rein it in and play the way she likes it.
There was a hot sexual encounter for the three of us.
The sex was phenomenal. I had been a little worried that I might have lost interest in women because I hadn’t been with one for so long, but no. Nope, it’s all still there.
She’s hot, and she’s sexy, and she’s warm and soft and beautiful, and good between the sheets.
And she tastes good. Yum.
She came prepared with condoms (we didn’t. Ha. The last time we used one was, um, never!). She came with creams. Tasty, tingly creams. Blow job creams. She rubbed me up and licked me off. She rubbed him up and we both licked him off. She rubbed herself up and me and him licked her off.
I liked sharing. I liked when she and I teamed up on him and shared his cock between us, taking turns licking and sucking. She’d take the balls while I took the cock, or vice versa. I’d take his nipples while she took his cock. We’d both take the cock, our tongues tangling together over the head.
I liked when she and Master teamed up on me. Her soft gentleness in such sharp contrast to Master’s hard roughness. She licks and nibbles; he bites and scratches. He’s gruff and demanding; she was sweet and considerate.
I liked when he and I teamed up on her and I licked her while he fucked her. He and I tasted her together. I sucked her nipples while he pounded her from behind. I cupped her ass cheeks, warm from a recent spanking, I gripped her hands, I kissed her lips, I moved her hair–all while Master took her, over and over again.
When M was fucking her, I kept waiting for a spark of jealousy. Or… something–but there was none of that. I spent a good bit of time off to the side watching them (and a good amount of time right there in the action, too, make no mistake) and I simply enjoyed their enjoyment. I enjoyed watching him; his face, his body. I enjoyed listening to the things he said to her, which were different to the things he says to me (surprisingly).
And I sure enjoyed the view she was giving me. So so much.
It was about two weeks after that he stopped by her house on his way home from work, and came home wearing her perfume. And a smile.
Like I said, there’s no predicting where it’s all going to go. We’ve each got our own prior responsibilities and obligations to attend to, and who knows where that will take us. Right now, it’s just fun. Plus, she’s still pursuing her own relationships. She wants, and deserves, her own M.
No matter where it goes, what it’s opened for me is how this isn’t just talk. He’s looking. It’s kind of scary– everything I’ve said about it already still stands. How I feel, what I worry about. And yet… it also highlights my place, you know? In a titillating way.
I was talking with her the other day, trying to sort out some of my feelings. Which, btw, are not about her specifically. She’s my sounding board because she’s really the first “other” that he’s had. She’s like… my practice run. Which is kind of cool, really, because I get to taste some of these emotions before the real thing is at my doorstep. So when I say “she”, I mean that in a general sense. Whoever the second slave ends of up being, that’s the “she” I’m referring to.
I’m not all grace and acceptance about things. I know that comes as a shock to you guys (*snicker*), but it’s true. Here’s what I’m learning:
I need to be allowed to have, and be honest about, any negative feelings I have without those feelings deciding the course of anything. If I’m asked if I’m okay with something, or if I’m comfortable with it, if I care about it, whatever– then I need to be allowed to say no, if I’m really feeling no. And then he needs to not care. Or at least uphold the fact that my feelings are of less importance, even if he does care.
If I say no, and they (she or he) cancels or alters the plans based on my feelings then I’m either going to start hiding (lying) about my feelings so that I don’t have the power to ruin things, or, I’ll perfect the fine art of manipulation if only because I’m a horribly flawed and selfish human being, and I’ll manipulate him (or her) right out of the relationship.
And more so than him, because I’m 99.9% certain he’s got this bit of ignoring my feelings conquered, SHE has to be okay with me being not-always-fine.He has to make sure she’s fine. He has to make her understand that he’s got me covered and taken care of. Because if she cancels plans on him, or runs for the hills because I had a female jealousy fit, then… whew… I can’t imagine how damaging that would be. I can’t imagine how angry he’d be.
But none of that translates into a situation where I just get to be a bitch because I’m feeling bitchy and omg-I-feel-what-I-feel transparency, either. There’s a difference between honesty and sabotage. I want to be able to be honest, I will not sabotage.
When I have negative feelings, they aren’t directed at the people involved. Well, they might be at him, but most definitely not at her. When he puts me (pushes me) into situations that involve other people and I don’t like the situation itself, it’s him (because he’s the boss) and the situation that I’ll rail against. It’s not the other people that he included.
Another thing- and I just noticed this recently- don’t try so hard to make it “fair”. If you fucked her, don’t then run over to fuck me so the score board remains tied. Fuck me if you’re horny or whatever, but not as a means of keeping an even tally. That just feels icky. It’s accomplishing the exact opposite of what I think he thinks it’s accomplishing. Does that make sense to anyone but me?
I am not immune to the normal fears. Of course I worry about being replaced. I worry that she’s better (easier?) than I am. I wonder why I’m not enough. I worry that he’ll prefer to spend time with her over me because she’s new and shiny and she hasn’t had 8 years of picking up dirty socks to curb her enthusiasm.
I told him (grumped at him, more like) once during one of our various conversations about him taking on others, that the shiny would wear off of them, too. He looked at me, rather confounded, and told me that the shiny hadn’t worn off of me!
I tried to hide it (because I was grumping) but inside I got all smooshy. I’m still shiny. ~beams~
I’ll give him this much: He’s giving me lots of room to talk. Though we’ve talked about this for a long time, these recent events have brought things to the surface again. At one point he came right out and asked me if this (poly) was something I wanted. My reply was that there was no easy way for me to answer that because what I want doesn’t matter. If I say no, I don’t want it, then I stand to lose him because I’m not submitting. He readily agreed.
But if he does find another, I chance losing him to her anyway. That happens all the time. I can think of a few once-poly relationships where the second woman is now the only woman.
He just patted me on the head and repeated his favorite line: “Til your death do us part, cunt.”
Consoled? I think not! In fact, I think I should check for empty body-hiding-sized barrels in the backyard!
You know what is consoling, though?
The other night, at the still-not-acceptable hour of 3:30AM, he woke me up again for a suck-n-fuck.
He woke me up by way of reaching out and tapping me on the head. And by tapping, I mean small pushes in the direction of his cock.
I had been sound asleep. Dreaming, even.
He didn’t say a word. I didn’t ask any questions.
From deep REM sleep to full awake dick-sucking in under 2 seconds, and not a single command or complaint uttered? That took some training.
So, no. I’m not super slave. I’m not a perfect slave. But I AM a slave who has been well-trained to suit him.
AND I’m still shiny. He said so.
Consoling comes that way. By way of using me as he’s trained me. By way of not changing the expectations.
Why would he walk away from all the hard work he’s put into me? Especially if I’m also making myself worth keeping.