Kneeling before Him...



Creative Commons License

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

Lately around here it has been filthy names and dirty sex and I have enjoyed every second of it. So has Mac. But I have also had moments of self-doubt. I don't think it is all that unusual. Calling yourself a cock-loving whore and admitting that your cunt controls you has to leave some sort of mark. It has been especially hard during the times that Mac has been at work for 16 hours a day. My day may start off with me perfectly happy with my absolute sluttishness but as the day wears on that nasty little voice in the back of my head starts suggesting to me that perhaps I really am just a cunt to be used, perhaps I really am sick and twisted, maybe He is not really working 16 hours a day, maybe He is just avoiding me. I mean, why wouldn't He? I really meant those things when I said them. How could He possibly love a dirty little slut? It is completely unfounded. I know He is working. I know it. But I can't stop that nagging little voice that sounds so much like me.

Usually during these times when He is busy and I start to doubt myself, I do two things. I get angry with Him for allowing me to want these disgusting decadent things and I withdraw. I push Him away and He has no idea why and I don't tell Him. I do that 'you figure it out' sort of shrugging thing. Usually He gives me a little time to get over it, then He smacks me in the mouth and brings me back into line but it makes us both a little sad that it has to be done that way.

This time, I did it a little differently. I followed my own advice and I was honest with Him about what I was feeling. I told Him about the doubt I was experiencing. I let myself stay soft and gentle and instead of barbing my words with unfair accusations, I just let Him know about the thoughts going through my mind when I was on my own. Mac listened and He heard what I was saying. He understood that I wasn't asking for it to stop, just that sometimes I needed to be reassured and then He reassured me.

He held me and kissed me all over. He made me giggle at myself and at Him. He told me that I was a princess, an angel and a very precious girl. He said that I am normal, have normal desires and lusts, (don't the girlies that comment on the blog tell me so?) and that I am allowed to indulge in them because He revels in them too. He loves His little slut. He loves that I get so lost in sex that it can consume me. He loves that I am so willing to do anything, go anywhere He leads. He says He can't imagine there is a normal heterosexual man alive who wouldn't growl with lust for the girlies and me and our lusts. So how can something that is a) so common and b) is what most men would love to have be wrong? I tell Him that logic hardly applies here. I am a girl.

"Not a girl." He says. "You are my girl and I have exquisite taste. I find you delicious, and I want more."

He says He isn't really taking care of me. At least, He is not aware of it consciously. When I am sad He feels very protective of me and He loves me very tenderly and tells me so. He doesn't hide this softness that He feels. He wants me to know I am His precious girl. This of course makes me feel better. I am loved and I am lusted. It puts me back on even ground and I am full of confidence again.

It is luck, He says, that what He feels happens to be exactly what I need. I don't think it is luck, I think it is just us allowing nature to take its course.

And does this softness, this gentleness that I am allowing to show through make me easier to live with? I think after yesterday Mac would say hell no, but it keeps Him somewhat bemused. I stood before Him stomping my foot because of something neither of us could control. Mac let me get it all out then He smiled at me.

"You are simply delightful, even when you are pissy." He said.

I ran to Him and put my arms around His neck. I held Him close and softly kissed His cheek.

"See?" He whispered against my ear. "I just fell in love with you all over again."

We are not giving this doubt a chance to live.

Posted by Sarah McBroden at 7:03 am

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?