Hime bares it all...

[TheDeSade]

wonders if they taste good

[Hime]

So, months went by. He lived in his state, I lived in mine, and we visited each other whenever we can, which came to about once a month. The first night of every visit was always amazing – he would take me home and slowly undress me, and we would do our very best to make up for lost time. Most of the time we were just happy to be able to feel each other’s physical presence, and in too much of a hurry to do much experimenting. Over time, though, we did try a few things. Sometimes we would play a game where he was my teacher and I was visiting after class… which eventually led to my making myself a little schoolgirl outfit as a present to him. Every once in a while he would give me a spanking, which we both greatly enjoyed, but they tended to be few and far between. I’m not sure if he knew how much time I spent thinking about the feeling of his hand coming down hard on my ass, or that the reason I’d been doing so much lower-body work at the gym was because I was hoping he’d want to spank me more. It took a long time to realize that the problem wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy it, but that he didn’t want to enjoy it.

After knowing each other for about a year, I came to spend Thanksgiving with him. After dinner, we went back to his apartment. He let me undress him, starting with his shoes and moving up to his shirt, but when I took off his silk necktie he stopped me with his hand. “We’ll set this aside for later,” he said, taking the necktie to a corner behind the bed. When I saw him place it on top of a pile of three other ties, my heart surged. I tried my best to concentrate on what was going in, as he unwrapped my black silk blouse and lace-overlay skirt, and took a few picture of me in the black underwear I had on underneath. After what felt like a long time, he guided me onto the bed and gathered the neckties. He has a really nice brass bed with posts, and he worked slowly as he gently tied each of my wrists to the headboard. The silk felt cool against my warm skin, and his touch was light and careful, but for the first time I knew the feeling of being powerless and having to put all my trust in another person. He kissed me and moved to the foot of the bed, where he tied my ankles to the footboard with the remaining ties. He asked me to try to move to make sure I was secure. I wriggled a little and couldn’t move. I felt completely loved and accepted as he kissed me and ran his hands over me, then began to part my thighs…

[Hime]

At the time, I admit that I hoped that it would be the start of a brand-new way of life for us. It wasn’t. We played a few games on occasion (he liked to tease me explicitly on the phone when he knew I was in a public place; I liked to send him naughty emails at work…), but for the most part we were a very happy, if long-distance, vanilla couple who had just gotten engaged. I started reading this site on a friend’s recommendation out of curiosity, and more and more I came to feel like I needed to belong to him in a more… solid way. I craved the feeling that he trusted me enough to let go of himself with me, something I’ve never had before in a life of being sheltered and protected – by parents who still thought of me as the underweight baby I’d been, by teachers who knew I was smart and didn’t want to see me fail… I wanted the man I loved to see that I was strong enough to let him play with me. But I didn’t know how to tell him without seeming like I wasn’t happy with what we had. I thought that he might think I was a freak, or the opposite – that my tendencies were a cliché phase that everyone else had already gone through. I was sure that he had a tendency to be dominant… I just wasn’t sure how to bring it out.

There was another problem, too, one that was much more obvious between the two of us. I had my secret kink, and he had one that he couldn’t keep secret if he tried. He loved tits. Especially very large ones. Until that point, I had been pretty happy with D-cup boobs on a 115-pound frame, but I noticed over time that all the women he mentioned as being attractive, and all the models I caught him looking at pictures of, were extremely busty, mostly augmented but some just natural and very, very lucky. His friends teased him about his love of breasts. And well, he obviously loved mine. He was always looking at them, touching them, kissing them, encouraging me to show them off in skimpier clothing. I enjoyed the attention, but quickly began to feel inadequate about not being in the extreme category that he seemed to enjoy. He worried that I didn’t trust him. I worried that I was too small and slight for him to use as a plaything the way I wanted him to. Without telling him, I bought a padded bra to wear on insecure days. I hardly ever wore it in front of him, because I didn’t know what he would think, whether he would object to the extra barrier between him and my chest, or worse (in my eyes), prefer me that way. Wearing it made me feel like I had some armor against the world. I started to wonder, hardly admitting it to myself, if I should have breast implants.

Of course, my insecurity about my body was what formed the barrier in our budding D/s play, not my body itself, which he always loved. It became a vicious cycle: not recieving the kind of treatment that I longed for made me feel more insecure, which made him more reluctant to do anything that might hurt me. Eventually I knew that I had to break down and tell him.

[Hime]

The breaking point came on the day when we were picking out clothes for our wedding. We went to David’s Bridal on the day of a big sale, and found a dress that made me feel like a movie star, strapless and perfectly fitted to highlight my curves. Then we went to the formalwear store to pick out tuxedos for him and his groomsmen. When the salesperson mentioned that the groomsmen could wear their jackets either buttoned or unbuttoned, depending on what the groom wanted or their personal preference, he smiled and said “I want to get to tell them what to wear,” I couldn’t help but giggle a little. I was sure his dominant personality was coming out… until that night when I tried on my dress to take some pictures for my family back home, and put on my favorite corset (the one in my avatar) under it. I got him to help lace me into it, which of course got me all excited. After I took off the dress, I laid down on the bed in the corset, hoping he’d be aroused by the sight. Instead he told me, “why don’t you change into one of your nighties? That just can’t be comfortable.”

I knew that he was being kind, but I felt hurt and stunned. With his take-charge personality and gentle bedroom manners, it felt like he wanted to dominate everyone… except me. ☹ Was I too emotional? Too young? Or as I feared, just too thin? I’d lost some weight recently and was even more concerned than usual about seeming fragile. I couldn’t help it; I broke down and sobbed until I was having a genuine panic attack. He held me until I was feeling composed enough to talk, and I confessed to him that I had been reading bondage websites and had decided that I wanted to go further in that direction.

His reaction wasn’t the best I could have hoped for, but it wasn’t the worst. He wanted to make me happy. He didn’t think I was weird or a poser. However, as a victim of childhood abuse (something I did already know), he wasn’t comfortable being in a situation that would make him feel like an abuser. He told me kindly and honestly that he could spank me and tease me, but he could never truly take away my control. I was ok with that; but the conversation did leave some ragged edges. We ended up having a couple of fights over the phone, and for the next couple of months the situation between us was basically static. I didn’t know how to reconcile the fact that I loved him and couldn’t bear to think of him suffering any more from his painful past, with the need I had to be dominated. I don’t think he knew what to do, either.

When we saw each other that summer, we ended up doing a lot of lying in bed talking. I tried to explain my desires, and he finally gave me some straight answers about his. It turned out that his love of breasts was more than just a preference, it was a fetish that I’d never heard of – he enjoyed reading and writing stories about women’s breasts growing, usually by some kind of unnatural means. He has a talent for explaining things in erotic ways, and he made me see the appeal in it – the idea of someone wanting more for herself, more power, more pleasure. He was also aroused by a process which I was going through at that time; the process of building muscle. I had started working out because I wanted more energy for dancing, but I had quickly become enchanted with the feeling of my body growing stronger and more powerful. I felt a sense of control that was new and exhilarating. While I was unsure how to feel about the breast fetish, which felt like something I couldn’t really do anything about, I loved that the joy I found in light body-building was a turn-on for him, too. And in spite of my insecurities, I found myself sitting up at night trying to think of a way to make his other fantasies come true, as well.