Overreaction

It has been two weeks since I woke up from my battle with the flu. Two weeks that Alex has played nursemaid to me, insisting that I needed time to rest and recuperate. But now I am bored shitless. Don't get me wrong, the first week was bliss; I slept, I ate and I generally forced myself to try to relax. Hours were spent on the sofa alternating between dozing, reading and watching films whilst Alex sat sentinel, tapping away incessantly on his laptop. But now I am coming up to the end of the second week of bed rest and I am slowly going insane. I have never spent this much time just doing nothing; my body is antsy, my brain itching for some more stimulation than lame TV or sappy romance novels. And to top it off, I am horny as hell.

Last night—after quite a bit of persuasion, I might add—I managed to get Alex to make love to me. Up until then, the most Alex would do is hold me as if I were fragile porcelain; one wrong move and I might break. It was intense, yet gentle, and when we came together, the sparks that washed over me were heavenly. But now I need more. My body is yearning for a hard fuck and the kind of orgasm that comes only when I give Alex my complete submission in the playroom.

When we are in the bedroom there is always the knowledge that I retain my control, yet when I offer myself down in the playroom, I do it with the knowledge that Alex can do whatever he likes with me. I am not sure why the distinction between the two spaces exists and I can only think that Alex works hard to not dominate me in our bedroom yet is happy to in the playroom. All I know is right now I want Alex to take the kid gloves off and fuck my brains out.

I have also spent a lot of time these past two weeks thinking about Alex and his grand proclamation that he is a sexual sadist. For some reason, this really bothers me and it is something I am determined to get to the bottom of. I can understand his desire to dominate. He comes from a family of incredibly strong-minded people, and the more I have come to know Sheila, the more I can see how she has brought up all of her children to take control and get what they want. There is certainly not a pushover among them.

My mind flicks back to the words that Alex said to me when I asked if caning me had helped him:

*'For a few minutes, I felt centred again, calm and collected like it normally would make me feel, but when you started crying for real, there was none of the excitement, none of the arousal I would usually feel. Instead, I just felt hollow and empty, and terrified that you would hate me.'*

If Alex were truly a sadist, then he would have enjoyed my pain, and the crying should have excited him, not caused him to stop. He has told me that he enjoyed spanking and whipping his subs but that he only ever did it with subs who wanted that level of pain, masochists who would get their own gratification from having it inflicted upon them. A win-win situation. If I break it down in my mind, then everyone got what they desired; there was no humiliation and both parties got to enjoy their kink. For me, that doesn't exactly fit with my definition of a sadist.

All I can think of is that in Alex's training under the Doms he told me about, he got this idea in his head that he liked spanking women and, ergo, that made him a sadist. And that brings me full circle back to this whole intimacy thing. A thought slams into me with the force of a train and I know, deep down, that right at the heart of the matter is Becca.

I think about how he told me that they were best friends. Best friends who fell in love and then finally took that momentous decision to sleep together. I recall how he used the words 'romantic' and 'gentle', and even though he had made a throwaway comment about it, I firmly believe that he was in love with her. Putting aside all the other kinky business, essentially Becca broke Alex's heart. With that comes the realisation that Alex's need to put intimacy and love aside stems from the fact that, in admitting who he really is, he lost the first girl he ever loved as well as his best friend. This makes Alex's reaction to his mother's prompts about Becca returning back home even more understandable. The sting of first love's betrayal is bound to cut the deepest and I honestly don't think he has ever gotten over it.

I feel so sad for Alex at this moment that I find myself wiping away a tear that has formed. A cold feeling has seeped into my bones, so I pull a soft throw off the back of the large wing-back chair that I am curled up in and drape it over me. The house is quiet, as Alex is currently out at a meeting, so I return to my inner musings.

The Alex I have come to know and love is certainly a dominant person and I guess that I have allowed him to take that place in my life from day one because it was what I needed. He offered me the opportunity to give up the strangling control that I needed to have over my life the day that he gave me his outrageous proposal. I was so sick of having to always be the one taking care of things that it was almost a relief when he suggested we get married. If I am honest with myself now, as much as I needed help with my financial situation, I think what really persuaded me was the trust I felt in Alex's presence and his insistence on taking care of me during the year we would be together. For so long I had been the one making all the decisions, especially when it came to my mother, that for someone else to take on that stress was sheer liberation.

The sound of the front door slamming shakes me out of my reverie. I don't immediately make a move to get up and go down. My head feels ready to explode after mulling everything over and I know that I am going to have to talk to Alex about my conclusions. Maybe if I can get him to work through some of this Becca stuff, then he can get some closure and maybe a little insight into himself.

Suddenly footsteps pound up the staircase and Alex comes rushing into the little nook on the landing that I have claimed as a reading spot. I catch sight of his face and gasp when I take in the look on his face. He looks angry—downright furious, actually. "What the fuck, Liv!" he exclaims, his voice livid. "How could you be so stupid?"