At one point during my phone conversation today with A., the phone line became crackly.
“I’ll call you back and see if that makes it better.”
I hung up the phone and dialed the zillions of numbers that calling an international phone number entails.* Given my proclivity for transposing numbers thanks to my ME/CFS riddled brain, I have ended up calling the wrong number a couple of times this week -- particularly distressing given how late we talk (tonight it was after 1am UK time). So far, the two blokes to answer a call from me have been kindly night owls.
“Hello,” said A. in an even deeper voice than normal and a slightly posher accent.
“Oh dear, have I got the wrong number?” I played along with feigned concern.
“I believe you have.”
“I hope it’s not one of those strict English gentlemen.”
“I’m afraid it is, you naughty girl. Calling at such a late hour. I know what you American girls are like. In need of a good spanking.”
At which point, I giggled nervously but quickly began laughing. A. too began to laugh.
Eventually we returned to our spontaneous roleplay.
“I think what you need is a butt plug,” A. said, in a mixture of his normal voice and the one with which he answered the phone. “I know you American girls have them in your under-the-bed play place.”
“Oh dear!” I exclaimed in the playacting tone of before.
“I’m serious. You need to get a butt plug.” He was now in quintessential A. toppy voice.
“Really?” I pouted.
“Don’t moan. It’s only going to make it worse.”
I dug around in my naughty drawer.
“Is it okay if it’s the vibrating one? I can’t find anything else.” Plus, I much prefer that one as it actually does something (something yummy, I might add) other than just sit there.
“I guess so if that’s all we have. But don’t you dare turn it on until I say so.”
“Yes, Sir.”
All of the sparse phone play of the last few months has been with me topping, as has most of the play planning for when he returns.
“You do know,” he began, “that the universe inside that apartment will have to be evened out. You will pay for all the topping you do. It will be very Buddhist. Very Yin and Yang.”
“Would it be a very smart-ass thing to point out that Yin and Yang isn’t really Buddhist but Confucian?” I said as respectfully as I could (and incorrectly; I meant to say “Taoist” but said Confucian as that was the first word in my head after “Chinese”).
He laughed, but in that completely shocked at such impudence sort of way.
“Yes, it would be a VERY smart-ass thing to say!”
Which, of course, made me laugh.
“You are so out of practice at subbing.”
“Yes,” I said. “Yes, I am.”
“Is your butt plug in?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good.” Then with as cooly a dominant a voice as he could muster said, “Now, I want you to tell me the password to your eBay account.”
I gasped.
I bought part of his Christmas present on eBay last week but changed the password to my account so he wouldn’t see it before he got it. And indeed he was -- or at least acted -- a tad hurt. But he did acknowledge without an ounce of shame that the first thing he would do is look to see what I bought. So. You know. It was for his own good. Tough Christmas Love.
“That is a TOTAL violation of your dom privileges!” I exclaimed.
“Well...you’re in...total violation of...my eBay privileges!”
I divulged nothing.
“I hate surprises,” he muttered. The same way he has almost every day since he found out I’d suspended his access to my eBay account. I, however, love them and find the old adage that it is more blessed to give than to receive even more accurate in this situation.
The switch in roles had been rather precarious up to this point, but A. then shifted into full top gear, telling me when to turn the dial up on my anal vibe, how he was going to turn Sunday afternoons into Punishment Day, what he was going to do to me on said Punishment Day.
When A. first started sharing more about his subby fantasies a few years ago, I worried that I would have a hard time being able to think of him in a dominant sort of way again. But I quickly found out that would not be a problem. Once he’s in top mode and I’m in Natty mode, it’s hard to believe I could have ever doubted his ability to be the same dominant A. I fell in love with eight years ago.
To everything there is a time. A time to top. A time to bottom. A time to give. A time to receive. Tonight was my time to receive. And while I enjoy giving more and more as time goes by, it sure is a blessing to receive.
_________________________________________________
*Yes, I know. I need to familiarize myself with the speed dial function on my phone.
“I’ll call you back and see if that makes it better.”
I hung up the phone and dialed the zillions of numbers that calling an international phone number entails.* Given my proclivity for transposing numbers thanks to my ME/CFS riddled brain, I have ended up calling the wrong number a couple of times this week -- particularly distressing given how late we talk (tonight it was after 1am UK time). So far, the two blokes to answer a call from me have been kindly night owls.
“Hello,” said A. in an even deeper voice than normal and a slightly posher accent.
“Oh dear, have I got the wrong number?” I played along with feigned concern.
“I believe you have.”
“I hope it’s not one of those strict English gentlemen.”
“I’m afraid it is, you naughty girl. Calling at such a late hour. I know what you American girls are like. In need of a good spanking.”
At which point, I giggled nervously but quickly began laughing. A. too began to laugh.
Eventually we returned to our spontaneous roleplay.
“I think what you need is a butt plug,” A. said, in a mixture of his normal voice and the one with which he answered the phone. “I know you American girls have them in your under-the-bed play place.”
“Oh dear!” I exclaimed in the playacting tone of before.
“I’m serious. You need to get a butt plug.” He was now in quintessential A. toppy voice.
“Really?” I pouted.
“Don’t moan. It’s only going to make it worse.”
I dug around in my naughty drawer.
“Is it okay if it’s the vibrating one? I can’t find anything else.” Plus, I much prefer that one as it actually does something (something yummy, I might add) other than just sit there.
“I guess so if that’s all we have. But don’t you dare turn it on until I say so.”
“Yes, Sir.”
All of the sparse phone play of the last few months has been with me topping, as has most of the play planning for when he returns.
“You do know,” he began, “that the universe inside that apartment will have to be evened out. You will pay for all the topping you do. It will be very Buddhist. Very Yin and Yang.”
“Would it be a very smart-ass thing to point out that Yin and Yang isn’t really Buddhist but Confucian?” I said as respectfully as I could (and incorrectly; I meant to say “Taoist” but said Confucian as that was the first word in my head after “Chinese”).
He laughed, but in that completely shocked at such impudence sort of way.
“Yes, it would be a VERY smart-ass thing to say!”
Which, of course, made me laugh.
“You are so out of practice at subbing.”
“Yes,” I said. “Yes, I am.”
“Is your butt plug in?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good.” Then with as cooly a dominant a voice as he could muster said, “Now, I want you to tell me the password to your eBay account.”
I gasped.
I bought part of his Christmas present on eBay last week but changed the password to my account so he wouldn’t see it before he got it. And indeed he was -- or at least acted -- a tad hurt. But he did acknowledge without an ounce of shame that the first thing he would do is look to see what I bought. So. You know. It was for his own good. Tough Christmas Love.
“That is a TOTAL violation of your dom privileges!” I exclaimed.
“Well...you’re in...total violation of...my eBay privileges!”
I divulged nothing.
“I hate surprises,” he muttered. The same way he has almost every day since he found out I’d suspended his access to my eBay account. I, however, love them and find the old adage that it is more blessed to give than to receive even more accurate in this situation.
The switch in roles had been rather precarious up to this point, but A. then shifted into full top gear, telling me when to turn the dial up on my anal vibe, how he was going to turn Sunday afternoons into Punishment Day, what he was going to do to me on said Punishment Day.
When A. first started sharing more about his subby fantasies a few years ago, I worried that I would have a hard time being able to think of him in a dominant sort of way again. But I quickly found out that would not be a problem. Once he’s in top mode and I’m in Natty mode, it’s hard to believe I could have ever doubted his ability to be the same dominant A. I fell in love with eight years ago.
To everything there is a time. A time to top. A time to bottom. A time to give. A time to receive. Tonight was my time to receive. And while I enjoy giving more and more as time goes by, it sure is a blessing to receive.
_________________________________________________
*Yes, I know. I need to familiarize myself with the speed dial function on my phone.
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