I’ve spent many many moments wondering when and how it went wrong with the Hunter. My heart still wants him badly. The men since him serve as continual reminders of him because they are not him. They are not better nor worse. Just not him. If I were to describe the Hunter to you I would say it’s like you asked me to describe all the things I want in a man – physically, intellectually, emotionally – and he was the result. I fell deeply in love with him and, although it happened quickly, I know I will never climb out of that love. My heart doesn’t want to. It is still firmly with him after nearly a year apart. If I want to I can imagine him in that moment between waking and sleeping and feel him holding me tight. It sounds like it should be perfect doesn’t it? So where did I fuck it up I ask myself continually. I can trace it back to the last time I saw him. It was his birthday. We were meeting in a coffee shop. I had sent him a video where I had given him a key to my house and I had bought him a small cake which I lit a candle on and sung happy birthday to him. Silly really. He’d wanted a threesome for his birthday. The key was my way of telling him I wanted much much more than fucking.
This particular day I was struggling with my own emotions. I had a family wedding coming up and my strained relationship with my mother would yet again be tested. I also had my ex-husband attending as our daughter was bridesmaid. All of this was swirling around in my subconscious and producing difficult feelings of uncertainty and unsteadiness. I wanted him to be the certainty I needed. I wanted his love for me to be steadfast. But outside that coffee shop he held me briefly and kissed me once and pushed me away as I clung to him. His embrace not tight enough. His kiss not deep enough. His love not certain enough. As he walked away that day he realised what I didn’t. That he would be destructive for me. That I wanted his certainty and I wouldn’t get it. And I wasn’t strong enough to deal with the outcome of that.
He was right. And I realise now how courageous and kind his decision. He could have easily kept on fucking me and beating my heart again and again when I didn’t get the certainty I craved. And as the true masochist that I am I would have continued to come back and back for more and more. But now my relationship with the Conqueror enters phase three I realise that I am learning to be that certainty for myself. It is tough I admit. Really really tough …
Part of a responsible D’s commitment to his s is to bring her down from sub space safely. I experienced severe sub withdrawal with the Young Heart and once he found me collapsed on the bathroom floor shaking uncontrollably as the adrenalin crashed out of my system. Sub withdrawal depends on my mental wellbeing at that moment as well as how quickly I enter sub space. During my last session with the Conqueror he barely steps through the door before he bends me over the stairs pulls up the skirt of my dress, yanks my knickers down, and thrusts his hand into my desperate cunt. He fists me hard on the stairs and I come quickly all over his hand. He makes me lick my come off his every finger and his palm before taking me upstairs.
In my bedroom he undresses me slowly, dropping light kisses all over my body. As soon as the last item of my clothing is removed he pushes me hard face down on the bed telling me to spread my legs wide apart. Wider he instructs and I obey. I hear my toy drawer open. He thrusts my large butt plug into my cunt first to use my come as lubrication before forcing it into my arse. He pulls me up to my knees and holds my hands behind my back as he fucks my cunt so hard I think I will break in two. After coming inside me he makes me deep throat his cock until I gasp for air. He continues fucking my cunt, arse, and mouth for over an hour. He beats me with his belt and makes me count his chosen number of hard strokes on each cheek. He watches me desperately grind one of my many orgasms out on my own hand. I have to beg to orgasm time and time again as he instructs me to count to 10 before I can. I forget how to speak. Every inch of me trembles.
As I lie on my bed floating in sub space feeling wonderfully used I expect him to do what he usually does and lie next to me holding me as I come back down to earth. Instead he grabs me up and tells me to get in the shower. I’m still tingling with pleasure and ask him seductively to get in with me. He refuses and heads downstairs. I’m still deliriously happy and sing in the shower. I get out and hear him talking. I call down to him. He comes back up and says he was booking a taxi. I ask him to stay and chat to me while I get ready. It is as if he doesn’t hear me as he heads back downstairs. I listen to Amy Winehouse ‘Tears Dry on Their Own’ while I start to dress feeling hollow inside. He comes back up, tells me his taxi is here, pecks me on the lips, and leaves. I hear the door shut and feel like someone has grated my insides raw. I bring myself down. I do it safely. I don’t turn to alcohol or another man as I have done in the past. But it’s so fucking hard. It takes all the strength I have.
He tells me a few days later he no longer wants to fuck. He’s too confused. Then this week we meet for coffee and he runs his hand up my leg. Wanting me. Telling me how intoxicating I am. I text him later to see if he has changed his mind about fucking. I’m ovulating and horny as hell. He’s the best option I currently have. I tell him I am free that evening. I tell him I will come to the door in my new underwear. I tell him I want fucking till I break. He texts me back saying he will be at a networking event. Instructing me to come wearing the remote control vibrator I bought recently at his request and give the remote to him. He’s pushing my limits. I feel it. It’s not unpleasant but I am worried about his rejection. I confirm the terms ‘if I wear the vibe, you will come and fuck me’. Ok he says. Ok?? That’s not what I want to hear. I get home and put the vibe in. I use it to build my own orgasm slowly and then use my array of toys to pleasure myself. Dildo in my arse, vibe in my cunt, clamps on my nipples. Imagination running wild. I realise I don’t need him as I come hard again and again. I go to text him and see he has sent a message saying he will have to rearrange collecting some equipment now he’s coming to mine. It sounds like a get out. I send my message saying not to worry. That I have pleasured myself. He wants to know all the details. How hard I came. What I thought of. I remain silent. My pleasure is no longer his to own. I am certain.
All my interactions with the Conqueror have been full of uncertainty and confusion. Now with time to reflect I am reminded of the Hunter. Who was always certain. Always steadfast. Even when his certainty was that he couldn’t provide me with enough love to satisfy me. I remember how hard I fought. My inner child screaming and hurting and biting. I am sorry for that. Sorrier than he will ever know. I want him to know I don’t need his certainty in the way I did on that fateful coffee shop day. I want him to know I have it in me, as tough as it is sometimes to find it and use it. I want only to serve him in every way I can. To serve him. To please him. To love him. Because then my heart would find peace at last …