Inappropriate Heels

This has been a rough week.  I usually spend two to three nights with W, and this week, for various reasons beyond our control, that hasn’t happened.  In addition, I’ve had some personal things go on that have dampened my usually high spirits, and W has been preoccupied with other things as well, so we just haven’t been connecting like we usually do. As I said in an email to him yesterday (bolded part added in by me just now),

We are used to spending a certain amount of time together, which gives us the emotional connection and we get kinda disconnected when we don’t have it. And then I get itchy and angsty and weird.  I start feeling like I did last night, and relate it to the physicality of playing, but you know it’s more than that for me–the physical is just a way to reaffirm the emotional connection, and the emotional connection is what I miss when we’re just doing the computer thing.

It’s funny that I didn’t really understand that was what was going on with me when I was angsting the other night.  I just thought, as I said in The Between Time, “I am a pissy girl right now. A pushy, petulant bottom that wants to be put in her place. Taken down. Dominated, used, abused, hurt, dragged down and subjugated.”  And yep, that’s all true–but it is why I am craving that right now that I didn’t realize until I wrote it to W yesterday. Which is so dense of me.  (Duh.)
It’s about the connection.  It is always about the connection.  It is about the way I feel in the midst of it, the way that I am tethered to him by the things he is doing to me, by his hands and mouth and focus on me–the tools he uses are just that: tools, implements to bind me, but not just to the floor or the wall or the ceiling, but to him.
It’s about the way I feel when he is fucking me, invading me, conquering me–and yet also joining with me, completing me. The way I feel when he is spreading my body open, my thighs, my mouth, my cunt, my asshole, opening it, opening me to him, looking at me, peering inside me, owning my body and as he does so owning far more of me than just that.
It’s about the way I feel afterwards, when I become “his girl” again, and I feel connected to him in a way I don’t feel with anyone else.
I know these things about what we do.  Of course I do.  And I know how much I need it, how deeply I need and crave having that connection affirmed and reinforced.  I need to know it for myself, but I also need to know he feels it, that connection, too. And…when we can’t have that…I need to know he misses it and needs to have it reinforced too.
In my email, I reminded him about the games we played while he was in Florida this last time and suggested that perhaps doing some small things like that might be helpful to us both. No, we’re not long distance right now, but if we don’t get to see each other and have that physical connection, then we might as well be.
And…he replied (to my joy and relief) that he, too, was feeling the disconnect.  And he, too, would like to find small ways to remind us both of our connection, to reinforce it, when we can’t see each other.  It’s amazing how such a small thing can make me feel so good. Following is the result of yesterday’s communication.
“Wear a pair of heels at some point tonight, even if it’s inappropriate.”
I went for a walk with Ad, and when we got back, I had some things to do.
In heels, inappropriately. ~grin~

I had plants to water outside on our patio.

And laundry to do...

And smut to write. (Heels should be *required* for writing smut, they always remind me of my place and make me feel so very sexy.)

And lastly, when all my work was done, I got to take a bubble bath.


And yes…as I put on my heels and did all the normal little things I would have been doing anyway, but doing them in a way that was for him, as I emailed him the pictures and received his responses back, and even as I write this post, I felt connected once again. To what it is we do, and to him.

Completely appropriately.

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