Jay on their stomach in the shower.

Committing on The Third Date

Slave Log: 24.01.2021

Sunday afternoon finds me preparing to go to his place after a productive workday. He said outright that he’d be thrilled if I stayed again, but it’s fine either way. After last night, I know to take that at face value. 

Still, it doesn’t solve my conundrum: I’ll get more sleep if I return and my morning will be soothingly normal, yet Friday night together with him was great and I’m tempted to see how night #2 would turn out.  

I pack a toothbrush. 

Alright, so I’ll stay the night but leave in the morning to get back to work. 

Only thing is, I’m taking my laptop so I could theoretically do some work at his place, too. Hm. Well, in that case I can seek out a grocery store and buy something. But that’s quite the hassle given all I have to do is put two apples in my bag and put some oats into a tupperware container. 

That’s a bit presumptuous, though, right? It’s only our third date and I’m bringing breakfast food. Or maybe presumptuous is the wrong word… peculiar? Showcasing my issues with food? 

I leave the flat without it. Lock the door. Take two steps towards the staircase…

And turn around again. 

Fuck it. So what if it’s strange or weird? If he’s as accepting as he seems, then he won’t mind at all. Besides, me looking for excuses is exactly that – me trying to talk myself out of a good thing. I decide to stop standing in my way, pack breakfast food and leave for good. 

In retrospect, this moment was a turning point for me. Rather than follow my old script of feeling undeserving of good things and thus preventing these good things to happen in the first place (by insisting to leave, by making things difficult), I opted to embrace possibility. For me, that moment meant that I’ve gone ‘all in’. I’m ready to truly give things a chance, wherever this may lead. I’m ready to put in the effort and be considerate, something I know from friendships but never encountered in a romantic setting.  

When I arrive, Sir is as delighted by the news I’m staying the night as he was that first time. We make dinner together, with separate food, and it’s … surprisingly okay. Given my past issues with food (aka a decade of disordered eating, eight years of which were dedicated to full-blown bulimia), I’m not too keen on eating in front of people I don’t know well. Add to it that I’m vegan and that people enjoy making stupid comments… 

But with Sir, it’s not anything like that. 

I’m unsure of what to expect then. I’m unsure of what I’d like to happen, too. I usually am, when it comes to sex. I can enjoy it, but I don’t need to have it – so if Sir wants something, I’m happy to go along – especially now that I know how great it feels with him. 

He suggests breaking in the new 21-inch monitor and the Firestick he got cheap off a friend, so we do. The last time I watched something while cuddled together with someone was about 10 years ago for a second-date movie night, which the other person interrupted with passionate kissing, to which I responded by asking them to save it until the credits because the movie was really great (“Kickass”, if you’re wondering).

So to say this is new is an understatement. Especially since Sir made a point of telling me that, as his sub, he can take me whenever he wants. He could wake me in the middle of the night for a fuck. Not sure if that covers pilot episodes of a TV show, too. 

That night at least, it doesn’t. 

My notes say we did have sex afterwards, but I can’t for the life of me remember exactly what it was like. What happens later is much more present on my mind… 

We’ve been talking off and on for a while, naked in the bed and lying close, always touching. I feel like I might actually catch some sleep this time, and eventually I’m on my stomach and growing drowsy. Sir starts stroking my back, something that I absolutely love. His pattern is lazy, the pace relaxed. He sometimes dips lower and caresses my exposed ass, but not pointedly so. 

Eventually, his fingers slip between my legs and inside me, then he’s moving. 

I vividly remember thinking, ‘Oh yes’ as I realize what’s about to happen. 

He pushes into me swiftly, the angle a challenge but nothing he can’t handle. I relax into it, relishing the quick pace and his hard grip. Then, his arm comes around my neck and he squeezes. He fucks me hard while choking me and I’m absolutely helpless, at his mercy, and damn am I enjoying it. The first few gulps of air are heaven, the rush incredible. And still he snaps his hips and pushes into me.  

By the time he decides he had enough, I’m panting. I seek his embrace immediately. He radiates contentment, and I feel it echo within myself. I try to imagine how this would feel if I had been asleep, if he’s woken me with his cock, and the submissive part of me yearns for it. 

It might be that night that he mentions coming by my place to use me, or it might have been the day before. But it fits dramaturgically right now, so I’m taking artistic license. 

Early on, Sir mentioned he once had a slave who wanted the control to extend deeply into their everyday life. He installed cameras in their room and thus had the ability to always watch. I found myself baffled since the mental image didn’t set off any particular reaction in me – maybe a shrug, but that’s it. I guess as a child of the digital age, I’m used to surveillance but don’t derive any gratification from it. 

Anyway, back to Sir’s comment about visiting me for no other reason than to use me. We also talked about rape role plays, which I’m still embarrassed to say I find incredibly appealing. I’ve never told anyone this, but sometimes when I think of stories involving me or alternate versions of me before I fall asleep, they can feature vivid rape scenarios. I’ve always felt weird about it, but chalked it up to writerly love for conflict and hurt/comfort narratives. 

Yet now something like this was a genuine possibility… with someone I, for reasons I can’t truly express, has earned my trust more fully than anyone except my closest friends and family. 

Sir adds that he might bring a friend. Or rather a client, who’d pay handsomely for the fulfillment of his fantasy. I expect to be afraid, and part of me is – but the bigger part of me knows that Sir won’t let anything happen to me. Realizing how deep my trust already goes scares me in ways I cannot describe in just a few words and part of me wants to turn and run away, back to my clear routines and soothing rhythm. Another part of me senses a kindred spirit, a ‘partner in crime’ who might be ready to take on the world with me. At least for a while. 

I don’t outright decline his indirect question for a key to my place. I know I’ll have to consider this, regardless of how quickly my gut tends to decide these things. Yet it speaks volumes that to him, my lack of denial inspires a contented smile.

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