Tomorrow evening I have one of my special “dates.” It makes me laugh that when I told W I was nervous about it, well, “freaked out” about the fact that for this particular date I will not see him before or after it, was what I actually said, he was like, “Why? It’s vanilla…”
Okay, okay, it’s a “vanilla” situation, but only in that it’s not scary, and there is no BDSM or even rough sex involved, and I did get this one from OKCupid, where I usually find my real vanilla dates. But that’s where the similarity ends. There’s just nothing vanilla about telling a guy that I have only met online that when we meet tomorrow night, my Owner has stipulated that my instructions are to satisfy him sexually. I have no choice in the matter–if he’s disgusting, if he bores me (and I think W is hoping on that outcome), if I don’t like the guy…too bad. I am being sent to service him sexually.
And bring home photographic evidence thereof, of course.
This isn’t quite as bald as a Craig’s List hookup. I’ve been talking to the guy online, in emails and in text, exchanging pictures and chatting, for…oh about three or four months now. I’ve made and broken two dates with him. Real vanilla dates, although there has been an expectation that it would probably end up in sex. The difference this time is that a) I can’t break the date, because this time W knows about it and is telling me to do it; and b) W told me to tell him specifically what I was there for. So there can be no doubt. No doubt that W owns my sex and controls it; and no doubt that I am a slut, a fuck toy, there for his use because my Owner wants me to be. And that’s what makes it hot for me.
The thing is, it would be–will be–vanilla sex. And oral. The guy really really wants to go down on me. He fantasizes and jerks off to the thought of sucking on my rings. He talks about it all the time. And frankly…that’s just not my favorite thing. I love to have my rings sucked on and messed with, but just oral sex doesn’t do a lot for me. At least in a vanilla setting. Kink it up, tie me, hold me, force me, hurt me there and soothe me afterward, and yeah, it’s hot then. But not…as a service. Not him servicing me. Especially now that I have my hood ring out again.
But the fact that everything I do tomorrow night will be at W’s instruction, that he will be waiting to hear all about it, yeah, that’s hot.
Interestingly, it makes the other guy hot too. This is the thing that I really do find curious. We don’t play this game without full disclosure. I mean, I don’t say specifically, “I have to fuck you even if I think you’re disgusting,” but I do tell them that this is the set up. That I am there because W says so, and that I am there to please him in whatever way W has decreed. And the other guys? They eat it up. To have a fuck toy that they can use in whatever way they and W have agreed upon–and I have to obey–seems to be a pretty hot fantasy for these guys. Tomorrow night’s guy got very much more excited when I laid out the parameters of the date. The guy from the bike ride really dug it too. And yeah, so do I.
But I am anxious about not seeing W before I go or after. Usually I come home to him, or he drives me to and from, and I can…realign myself…decompress…with him. This isn’t easy for me, by any stretch of the imagination, and I need him when it is over. But this time, I have to come home home after (not W’s home.) In another odd twist, though, when I told Ad all about it, he said, “Well, looks like I need to put you back in the right headspace when you get home.” I had anticipated play with W after…our kind of play…because hell, two hours of vanilla sex is sure to make me crazy, and I’ll need to be “refocused.” I’ll want to be used the way I should be, taken, pushed down and fucked hard. And that is exactly what Ad said he would do.
“Sounds like you’ll need a little rope, maybe a gag,” he said. “Maybe I’ll use your new toy on you, give you a good ass fucking…treat you bad.”
Huh. That’s a side to him he hasn’t shown before. And of course W loves this development too. It’s me that is…unsure about it. W always seems to know what I need–whether it’s to be hurt or just held, whether it’s soft words or to be fucked silly, to be marked by him, made his again. I am not sure what I’ll need tomorrow night when I get home. I am not sure Ad will be able to provide it, or will understand if I cry. So…it’s a little bit edgy, a little dicey in that respect. On the other hand, W is only a phone call away. And I know that Ad would not hesitate to call him or take me to him or send me to him if I need.
And, really…even when I get home to Ad…that’s still just an extension of the scene, after all.