Pushing Limits

This is a multipart series, inspired by a man who makes me want to push my own limits.

This story is completely fictional based on a fantasy. All characters are over 18.

*****

He sighs and rolls over, sliding his hand inside the leg of my pajamas, resting on my ass. A shudder of pleasure runs through me at the sting of this gentle touch on my bottom, covered in fresh welts atop the older bruises from his belt.

I smile. Even sound asleep he possessively reaches for my ass. Like he's claimed it, marked it, guarding it. Another shudder of pleasure.

I should also be asleep. God knows we've both earned it. But I always have trouble sleeping after a particularly wild session. No, it's not guilt. He showed me how to embrace this part of myself a while ago. Although I still get shivery when he embarrasses me, by making me do bad things, or admit how much I love being dirty for him, my shame and hesitation turn him on. One of the 987 ways our kinks are compatible.

I'm watching him sleep. His deep even breathing, the warmth of his body, his hand on my ass... I'm overwhelmed with affection and gratitude. He's done so much for me. He's taught me things I'd never dreamed of, pushed my limits, took my ass for the very first time (and countless times after), showed me how to surrender completely.

God, I love the way he fucks my ass. And his belt. And that other thing.

Some things are a little unconventional, even for those who embrace D/s play, but once I turned that corner with him, there was no going back. It's not something most people would understand. Sure, I give him my submission, my body to use as he pleases. My thoughts, my attention, loyalty, and respect...I give him control. Control. I'm so very controlled in my functional vanilla life. But when I come? When I can touch myself? What I wear? Even when and if I can use the bathroom? That's all under his jurisdiction now. He controls the most intimate things in my life and everything between my legs.

Another shudder of pleasure.

But that's all I can give him, nothing compared to what he does for me. I want to give him more, something no other woman ever has. Something he's fantasized about, but as it was established as a hard limit for me, he didn't push.

I want to give him the gift of seeing me...dominated by another woman.

I want to push this one now. It's strange how something so uninteresting to me can be so powerfully arousing when I contemplate doing it for him. The idea only exists because of him; I want to give him this. If it's even possible, that is. The logistics are tricky. We're going to need another woman, for starters. Someone safe, the right type, the right sensibilities...and most importantly, someone who will understand it's for a night of play only. No attachments.

You can't just order someone like that off Amazon Prime.

He shifts in his sleep, sliding his hand down a bit, until the tips of his fingers rest on my still tender pussy, so recently well fucked. I open my legs for him before I see that he's still sound asleep. My Pavlovian response: to instantly offer myself to him at any time. It makes me smile. He's trained me well.

This man owns much more than my body.

I run through the list of women we know and eliminate everyone for one reason or another, except for that bitch we met at that erotic writers conference he dragged me to.

Ugh. Scrolling through the list of other women we know again, and still drawing a blank. What was her name? Mistress Tabitha, that's right. She was bossy, and bitchy. When we were in the ladies room at that conference, she just opened my jacket without asking, and cupped my breasts in her hands. Lifting and squeezing, she pronounced, "I guess they are real. Not bad."

"Who the fuck does that to a stranger!?!" I said to her as I immediately recoiled. She just shrugged and went back to fixing her hair.

"I know who you belong to. I'm surprised, figured he'd want a real submissive. I've read his work for years. He's talented, for a man, and seems to have a thirst for dominance far greater than someone like you could possibly satisfy."

"Excuse me?"

"I heard you two before we left for dinner last night. When we decided on the restaurant after the workshop he was fine with it...until he told you. You pouted and tugged on his jacket. Next thing we know he's changed the restaurant and surprise, surprise, you were happy. If you were mine, I'd have slapped that pout right off your face."

"Well, one anecdote is certainly enough to judge our relationship." Oh good, from the look on her face she understands sarcasm. "If you ask me, the take away from that is that, unlike you, he understands the difference between a Dom and a bully. Perhaps you could learn something from him."

Judging by how wide her eyes got, I don't think she was used to being spoken to like this. What do I care? My Sir knows exactly how submissive I am. To him, and him alone. He knows that I submit to exactly no one else.

Great. One candidate. Pretty sure I have only one thing in common with her, besides the fact that our breasts are real. I'm sure she finds me just as awful as I find her to be. Still, judging by things a former sub of her posted on her blog, she does knows her stuff when it comes to dominating other women. She's also familiar with Sir's work, and thus some of his particular turn-ons. As a bonus, she is so off-putting, that there is definitely no danger of anyone forming attachments. And after all, it is just for one evening.

I'm his, and I know he won't just give me over wholesale. Nor would I want him to. There will be limits, that he will set. Would she even be interested in an arrangement like that?

One of Sir's rules is that I tell him all my dirty thoughts; impractical fantasies, things I'd like to try, things I want him to do to me again, questions...everything.

I'll talk with Sir tomorrow and see what he thinks.