Paladin's Deepest Fears - Part 2
This entry is continued directly from the last post. Please click here if you have not already read the previous post.
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Paladin thought for a moment, then nodded. I let my hands come to my sides, no longer touching him actively at all. I sat straighter, which lengthened my stomach and pushed my breasts forward. He was clothed, but I was naked. He looked at me for a long while, actually looking at my body. He rarely did that. I drank it in.
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He's really looking at me, I thought, my mind feasting on the words and replaying them in my mind. He reached out and touched my breast. I gasped, alight with desire. My body's responsiveness was surprising to me.
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His fingers wandered down and pulled at my pubic hair. I tilted my hips upward as far as they would go, silently begging him to touch me more intimately. He continued to pull and play with my pubic hair.
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Then his hand froze, and he slowly pulled away again. He closed his eyes. "I'm afraid of disappointing you," he said. "I'm afraid of creating expectations that I can't fulfill."
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I nodded. "It's okay," I said.
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Hesitating, freezing up with fear and then pushing himself onward, he took off his shirt and pants. He sat across from me in his black boxer-briefs. He breathed heavily. It could easily have been interpreted as desire or fear. His face spelled the latter. And yet, some part of me detected desire.
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He reached for me again. He caressed my breasts, stroked my stomach, feathered my thighs and pulled at my pubic hair. I gasped and moaned. He froze up with fear. Rinse, repeat. With tears in a few cases.
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After this circled about three times or so, I said, "Would you touch your cock to me?" I wanted to feel it pulsating against me, a clear sign of his desire. I could see that he was at least a little hard, but I couldn't feel it.
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He froze up with fear at my question. He squeezed his eyes shut. My heart swelled with compassion. This is how much fear he has been handling at a subconscious level each and every time we've made love. It is no wonder he has had so much trouble. Now his wounds are laid bare for me to see. Now he shows me. Now he trusts me. A small smile graced my face.
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"I want the biofeedback. I love feeling your cock and noticing how hard it is. Sometimes I know better than you do how aroused you are when I can feel it," I said.
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He took my hand and brought it somewhat toward him, then hesitated and stopped.
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"This is ridiculous," he whispered. "I'm not normally ever so afraid."
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"It's okay," I said. "You're letting yourself feel it. That's good."
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He tried several more times to bring my hand to him, but couldn't make himself do it. He gave up and went back to touching me. He stopped and started again several times.
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"Having sex with me right now would be a level-ten difficulty," I commented. "I'm too raw emotionally to hide the ravenous parts of me, or to hide my despair."
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He nodded in understanding, and continued to touch me.
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At another point when he had stopped again I said, "It's ironic. I have the perfect game already programmed into me - that of being submissive. I give you all the control. It is the only way I know that I can stop myself from touching you short of repressing and rejecting my own desire. It allows me to hold still, even as I want so badly to reach for you."
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He began to cry again. I didn't hold him this time. I stayed still, and waited.
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"I'm so sorry," he said.
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"It's okay. I can hold still like this. It is a game I know how to play," I said. My voice was light, but then it broke as I went on, "Although usually this game includes faith that Master will bring relief."
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We both cried some more. After he blew his nose again, he pulled his boxers off - modestly, trying not to show himself as he did so. I caught a glimpse of his pinkish cock and found myself surprisingly wet. We were both much more in touch with the hidden parts of ourselves - more responsive.
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He pressed his lips to mine again. I stayed completely still - a submissive doll. His lips moved against mine a little. The motion felt more natural to me than his pauses. Each stillness could be interpreted as a savoring - or as fear. Both unfamiliar.
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My heart ached for the trauma that had caused him to lock his sexuality behind such terror. (The trauma of being raised in a strict Christian household by a loving, charismatic, obsessive, fastidious, control-freak mother.)
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Paladin's movements came quicker. Less hesitation. More determination. More desire. My heart-beat sped up. It wasn't just his desire that was turning me on - it was that he was feeling his desire for me through all the fear, repression, and guilt. His love for me was stronger than the two decades of suffering that came prior to me.
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A large grin spread across my face, unseemly for a submissive slut, but completely right for a loving Nuria. I was less confined by my "roles" these days. More confident in my me.
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Paladin looked behind me, calculating how I would fall on his bedding if he pushed me back. His eyes didn't like his calculation.
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"This is a stupid room to be in," Paladin said, standing up. "Come," he said, taking me by the hand. I hesitated a little so that I could grab my water jar with my other hand. He led me through his doorway and into my bedroom.
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He flipped the switch for the ceiling light. It was uncomfortably bright, but a submissive didn't tell her master to switch to using the lamps, and so I didn't. I set my water jar beside the lamp and stood naked, shaking and waiting.
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Placing his hands on my shoulders, he pushed me backward. My back and head fell against my soft bed. My legs dangled over the edge to either side of him. I let him move me like a rag-doll, enjoying the helpless nature of being entirely submissive to him.
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He touched my arms, chest and stomach all over with his hands, his every movement speaking to me of his dominance and control. My breath was ragged, my eyes pleading desperately with him. Please fuck me, I thought.
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He moved forward and I felt his cock rubbing against my labia. I knew I was wet on the inside, but my lips were mostly dry. He moved rubbed his cock up and down my labia. My eyes closed, enjoying the sensation. Every time his head moved past the opening it would scoop up a little moisture and then carry it up to my clit.
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I gasped. This is what it is supposed to be like. This is natural sex. This is what it is like without a condom, without oil, without any barriers - emotional or physical - between us, I thought.
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Twenty or thirty agonizingly slow strokes later, my labia were wet. I angled my hips suggestively. He took my suggestion, pressing into me. I moaned, and my voice sounded loud in my own ears. I knew my volume had sometimes distracted him, but this was about authenticity. This was about bringing down barriers, and so I let myself scream.
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I screamed and screamed, knowing any neighbors that happened to be outdoors could hear me. My voice sounded anguished. Please know I want this, I thought desperately. Please don't stop. He sped up, and I screamed louder, putting a few "Yes!"s into my screams to make sure he knew I was okay - more than okay!
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It was less than a minute before the white-out caught me. My visions vanished - both external and internal. White was the color of my awareness. Tingling bliss was the tactile input from every nerve in my body. My own screaming was very loud I knew, because my ears were ringing with vibration, but the actual sound was too far away to hear. In that white space I floated, separate from all the pain inside me, united with my deepest love, deepest joy.
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And then I was choking on grief forcing its way out of me. My screaming turned to sobs and I could hear my voice again. I pressed my hands to my heart. I looked at Paladin and whispered, "Please don't stop."
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He looked at me, his eyes alternating between love and fear. He didn't stop. He didn't go soft. He kept fucking me, loving me through my screams and sobs, loving me through my pain. Exquisite.
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I pushed myself up on my elbows so that I could see him more closely.
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"You and your intense expressions," he said, looking me in the eyes. I smirked a little. You're seeing me, I thought. You're really seeing me. My heart warmed and I laid back again and let the pleasure wash over me.
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I screamed louder. He pumped faster. Vaguely I wondered how he knew to do that. He never used to know to do that. He really was less blocked on this magical night. He was really there with me.
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White flashed in my awareness again, a second orgasm coursing through me. The contractions in my cunt were just barely possible to feel beyond all the incredible waves of pleasure washing through my body. The contractions were like cherries atop vanilla ice-cream and peach cobbler. Not essential, but a lovely touch.
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Then I heard my voice again - I was giggling. I felt my face, and it was smiling. I felt my arms sprawled to either side of me on the soft black sheets. I felt my legs spread apart, Paladin standing in between them, pumping his body toward me and away from me. I looked at him and saw perfection. My spine arched and felt pleasure. I giggled again. Paladin smirked.
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"I want to touch you," I gasped, suddenly straining to keep my arms down at my sides. I wanted full connection with him, full dissolution of my ego.
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He took my hands in his. His movements were halting and yet precise. Definitive and yet hesitating. I could sense the parts of himself vying for control even in his movements. Later I reflected that perhaps his desire for control was so strong because each aspect of him so desperately wanted control over the other aspects of him.
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He brought my hands to his sides and firmly planted them there. I sighed in relief and explored the warm skin of his back.
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Holding him, moaning in delight with his every stroke, relief flooded me in a purely emotional orgasm: "I forgive you," I said. The words were true and they felt so good. Forgiveness was not heady like lust. Forgiveness was not exciting like sadism. Forgiveness was not a vice or a drug. Forgiveness was letting go, and lightening up. Forgiveness was tension leaving my body. Forgiveness was the release of heavy weights inside me.
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"I forgive you," I repeated, for the sheer joy in it.
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"I forgive you," I said again, for the bliss of that relief. And again, and again. I said the words a dozen times, each time feeling that something new was floating away from me. Yes, let it go. Let the pains float away from me, I thought. The cure for long-held resentment: genuine forgiveness.
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He held me. He collapsed into tears again and I held on, his convolutions moving his cock inside me.
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"I love you," I said.
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"I love you too," he said. He stood back up and looked down at me, his hands on my thighs.
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"Do you feel how open I am to you?"
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He looked at my legs suggestively. "I feel your legs," he said.
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"My heart. Do you feel how open my heart is to you? It is as open as my legs."
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He smiled and closed his eyes. He was quiet for a long ten seconds or so and then nodded.
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"Do you want to orgasm?" I asked.
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He stood still, his eyes closed, not answering. I could tell he wasn't sure what his answer was.
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"Do you want to continue and seek more pleasure?" I asked.
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He still didn't answer.
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"I feel satisfied. There is no wrong answer," I said.
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Tension left his shoulders suddenly and he smiled at me. He pulled out slowly. I moaned with some sadness. The feeling of a cock retreating from my cunt almost always made me feel sad.
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"Let's clean up then," I said. We went to the bathroom and washed up, toweled dry, and returned to my room.
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Refreshed and naked, we got under my covers and snuggled.
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"I orgasmed twice," I said.
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He nodded. "Those were powerful orgasms."
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"Yes," I agreed. I had never orgasmed like that with Paladin - only with Hibiscus, maybe once or thrice with Porcupine. In this evening I finally had what I always wanted. I found the relief and release I needed in tears and sex. I found the pleasure and joy I wanted in connection and orgasm. I found the forgiveness and compassion I craved in authenticity and integrity. I found my love for Paladin - the love so often stifled by resentment and remorse. The love that had once colored my entire life and made me happier than I had ever been - back in Sunnyland, back in 2010.
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Saturday, September 26th 2016
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We took Saturday easy. We didn't touch on our emotions too closely, but stayed authentic with the little bits that came up. Eight-forty-five in the morning I found him in the kitchen and we each made ourselves our separate breakfasts. After a lot of rearranging, cleaning, organizing and food preparation, we were ready to go to the farmer's market. At nine-fifty we left the house and walked to the gravel parking lot.
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We arrived at the farmer's market and didn't mind the traffic. Hibiscus always minded, but we didn't. We parked far away and had a long walk in, but we talked merrily and didn't mind. We looked at most of the stands and talked about varieties of squash. We saw a "banana mint" plant and tried the leaves. We'd never heard of it before.
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"It really does taste like banana!" I exclaimed, surprised. We considered buying it, but $10 seemed like a lot for a small pot of mint. Besides, we hardly knew what to do with all the incredible chocolate mint, spearmint, grapefruit mint, orange mint, and fuzzy mint that we already had!
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We bought a variety of small seasonal squashed and picked up one of our C.S.A. shares. (We had four shares - one yogurt, two fruit, and one vegetable share.) This week we received a half-quart of ground cherries, a quart of sundry tomatoes, a quart of concord seedy grapes, and a few tomatillos. I returned to him an empty apple-cider-vinegar bottle that had come from him, and purchased an extra quart of ground cherries.
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I handed him a five-dollar bill, which was the price the ground cherries were labeled. "That's four for you," he said, fishing out a dollar-bill and giving it to me. I smiled and said, "Thanks."
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After the farmer's market we went on to the co-op market. We had just been there Thursday but we had forgotten to buy tissues. After last night, there were none left in the house. I also picked up nine bags of frozen raspberries - they were on sale from $4.50 down to $3.00 per ten-ounce bag. They were organic, and shipped all the way from Sunnyland. I wished there was a local source, or a bulk source, or some other less costly source.
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As we walked out to the parking lot I said to Paladin, "Want to go to the thrift store?"
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"Uhhh," Paladin said, clearly quite unsure.
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"I brought enough freezie-packs to keep everything cold in the cooler bags. Besides, I have a good feeling about going," I said.
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He smiled, walking beside me in the sunlit parking lot. His hair looked like spun gold in the light, twisting into the tangle of braids I had covered his head with the previous night.
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"Sure," he said.
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I carefully arranged the raspberries so they wouldn't melt during our excursion and then settled in the passenger seat of Hibiscus's car. On my finger I wore the ring Paladin had bought for me earlier that summer. Over my shoulder I wore the purse that Hibiscus had bought for me on our one-year anniversary.
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At the thrift store Paladin modeled for me several pairs of pants, and shirts. I unbraided his hair as he looked through clothing, admiring the crimped effect left behind by little braids. My golden, shining husband.
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Holding my hand as we walked back to the car Paladin said, "Even though I bought the clothes with my own money, it feels like you took me out."
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I grinned and nodded. You said that last time my dear, I thought. But it's fine you're saying it again.
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"You allowed it to happen," he added.
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"It was my idea, and yes, I prepared for it. And I gave you attention, and helped you find clothes. I enjoyed it," I said.
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"I'm glad," he said.
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