Your cock is beautiful – 34

She watched me suspiciously for a few seconds before letting out a huge sigh. She closed her eyes and lay back on the bed.

“It doesn’t matter.” she said, “Don’t you have to run off now?”

I ignored her question.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” I said forcefully, slightly worried.

She looked at me strangely. Sadly.

“Nothing.” she half whispered, turning away. “Nothing. I’m just tired.”

“Talk to me.” I ordered.

“It’s nothing, really.” she said, a soothing lie in her voice.

I stared into her eyes, trying to find the truth. Was this just because of the abuse she’d taken earlier? Was she just pissed at me for hurting her? Or maybe it was some sort of reaction from her earlier submissive daze, like coming down from a high.

“I guess…” she started, seeing I wasn’t going to back down, “I guess I’m just remembering what a… disgusting slut I am.”

“Stella…” I said, surprised at her.

“I know, it’s not like it’s news.” she continued glibly, “But sometimes my own sick, disgusting body takes me by surprise.”

“You’re not… sick, Stella.” I said slowly.

“I am.” she said simply. “I just don’t know how… I don’t know why I like it… It’s so fucked up…”

“Jesus…” I whispered to myself.

It was finally time, I realized.

I suddenly regretted waiting so long to have this conversation with her.

I’d been struggling with the idea that I was an actual sadist, and what that meant about me as a person, but I’d never had a single conversation with Stella about her being a masochist, or a sub. She was ashamed of herself for it, because she didn’t understand it. She’d been doing all of this, submitting to me, without ever knowing what it really was.

I’d fucked up. I’d let her go on hating herself for too long.

“Stella, do you know what a submissive is?” I asked.

“A submissive what?” she asked.

I sat up, and she sat up with me, curling her knees up to her chest and hugging them.

“Ok Stella.” I said slowly. “We need to talk.”

She frowned at me.

“Talk about what?”

“About why you like… the things I do to you.” I said slowly. “Why do I treat you the way I do?”

She didn’t answer.

“Stella, do you know what BDSM is?” I asked, looking at her.

“Uh… is that like, S&M stuff?” she asked.

“Yeah, kind of.” I said, “Do you know what S&M stands for?”

She shook her head.

“Well do you know what it is?” I asked.

“Uh, like… whips and chains and stuff?” she said.

I waited for her to get the link to what I was saying, but for a girl so smart she was taking her time to understand this.

“Stella, S&M, or, you know, BDSM, is this. It’s how you would describe our relationship, basically.” I said.

“Um…Ok?” she said.

I took a step back, and realized I had to start from an even more basic point if I wanted her to understand.

She had only the most shallow understanding. I remembered how she’d told Mia about seeing my cock. She’d been embarrassed even saying that she’d accidentally seen it on the internet, and that was to her best friend. She was an incredibly intelligent woman, but everything she knew about sex was from what people told her, and thinking back, she’d probably had very few conversations about it before.

“Ok. How about this? Is our relationship… normal?” I asked her, trying to find exactly where her misunderstanding started.

“Well… no, obviously.” she said, a profound sadness in her voice.

“How is it different from normal?” I asked.

“Well…for one thing, you hate me.” she said, a touch of bitterness in her voice.

That made me pause for a second.

“Ignore how we feel about each other for a second.” I said eventually, “Focus on what we do. What do I do that isn’t normal?”

“Well… you hurt me.” she said. “And you… tie me up.”

“Right, and what do you do?” I asked.

“I… I don’t know.” she said.

She was getting confused, and I could see she was getting more and more uncomfortable. It was incredible how different she suddenly seemed to me. She was so lost, so strangely innocent and naive.

“How do I put this?” I thought aloud, “Our relationship… is based on control. Would you agree with that?”

“Uh… yeah.” she said, considering it, “That sounds right.”

“But most relationships aren’t, at least not in the same way.” I said, “Most are based on the idea of equality, but not ours, right?”

“Right.” she said.

“Our relationship isn’t unique.” I said, doing my best to explain in a helpful way, “A lot of people do the same kinds of things that we do. It doesn’t mean we’re sick or wrong, at least I don’t think so. It just means… We want different things from most people. We have different urges.”

“Ok…” she said.

“For example, Stella, you’re a submissive.” I said.

She laughed suddenly, before I could continue.

“Submissive? Me?” she laughed harshly, “I’m like the least submissive person I know!”

She had a point. Normally Stella was as confident and strong willed as anyone you could meet.