When I had the brilliant idea to write about needs, I had no idea I’d end up staring at my laptop most of the day. The blank google doc mocked me cruelly and left me wanting to stab it over and over again with my rhinestone fountain pen. It would seem my idea wasn’t genius after all. I was adrift on choppy waters and heading for topic failure.
The problem is that one’s needs stem from feelings, and I tend to lean hard towards ‘feelings intolerance.’ For me, feelings are intricate workings that I find incredibly difficult to digest and even harder to put into words. What do you need? may sound like an uncomplicated question to some, but I’ve found that verbalizing a response can be an impossible task. Like feelings, needs are far from simple. They’re thought provoking and often puzzling. They’re not to be taken lightly and sometimes, they’re extremely hard to admit.
Mr. K doesn’t say he needs things often. But when he does, it’s usually a nap. Or me. Or a nap after me. Anyway, my point is it’s not a word he tosses around freely. He’s selective when choosing the appropriate time to let it fly. And even though need didn’t enter the conversation as we discussed our debaucherous plans for Monday night, what he wanted was clear. He wanted face slapping, hard fucking, spitting and nipple torture. He wanted me to make him cry.
It had been a particularly rough week for him and the stress of business was wound tightly around his throat. He was tired and distracted and I was powerless to help. It circulated through my mind more than once that he might cancel altogether, but he wanted me with him. It was vital that he breathe again and I promised to give him everything he needed.
“Want. What I want. I need a solution to my problem. I want my ass fucked,” was his reply.
I may have thought something along the lines of riiiiiiiight, but decided it was best to keep my reaction to myself.
I was more than willing to give him the stimulation he desired and the release he craved. But as much as he needed to give me power over him, I needed to take it. I needed to hear the sounds of his pleasure rising from deep in his chest. I needed to draw it out. Physical freedom was only part of my agenda, though. I was going to push him farther than I ever had before.
I know that want and need are often indistinguishable. And at times it can be impossible to tell where want ends and need begins. But I planned to show him. I had no hesitation about climbing inside his head for the first time. It felt right. I was going to break through the wall and open the floodgates of his submission. I was going to make him see that calling me “Mistress” as he pleaded for my strap-on wasn’t something he merely wanted. It was something he needed.
Everything I would require was laid out neatly and in order of appearance because I’m OCD, and all systems were go. I played the night out in my head as I waited patiently in knee high socks and a sweater for him to come through the door. I may have chewed on my lip and giggled a little with anticipation, but I knew what he needed to find peace and I would happily give it to him. But the second he pulled the socks from my legs, I realized I had it all wrong. I didn’t feel frustration or disappointment that things didn’t go according to plan. How could I? He needed tenderness. And he needed it from me.
I slipped easily from the Domme I was to the girlfriend he needed. Like any role we switch to, the transition was fluid. There is never any need to shift headspace or redirect needs. It’s a natural transformation. It’s part of what makes our relationship so wonderfully right.
It wasn’t domination, or toys, or spanking or tears he needed to relieve his stress. He needed to lay between my legs and inhale the scent he hungers for, his breaths long and deep. He needed hugs and kisses and to hear me say, “I love you.” He needed to talk it out and laugh through it while I used his cock as a gear shift. He needed me to play Naked Nurse and tend to him the best I could. And just so we’re clear, it was not an injury inflicted by me. The bite marks on his chest, however, are a different story.
He also needed to have his nipples twisted painfully hard as he exploded inside me. And he needed to feel my fingers in his hair as he drifted off to sleep. He just needed me.
We’re incredibly kinky people. Whether it’s attempted watersports or Mr. K eating a Twix bar from my asshole, we find pleasure in things that some may view as pretty fucking weird. That’s fine, though. It’s not their ass face-sitting Mr. K, it’s mine. But we don’t always need kink to get us off or turn sex into a competition to see how many times we can make the other orgasm. Sometimes we just need each other without the toys and power exchange. And that’s okay too.
