The thing about vanilla ….
I don’t usually do vanilla. I gave it up as my flavour when I embraced the world of D/s and kink and, being honest, I have never really looked back. Not that there is anything wrong with vanilla sex, it can actually be a very nice connector, but it isn’t that sort of sex for me. You know the sort that you can’t quite shake off the memory of, the sort that leaves you craving more. The sort with the flashbacks that makes your cheeks flush and your pelvic muscles twitch.
A big part of my submission is about thinking myself into a submissive mindset and this doesn’t really work with vanilla either. I am all about active submission, but there is a line that I am careful not to cross, for very good reason. I will suggest things and offer things, I will plan things and research things, but I don’t tend to take the lead. I will step up when needed of course, but I try not to step out of line, and I definitely don’t want to step over it.
The thing about romance …
We had a chat at the SWC this week about romance. It was interesting as I have always thought before that romance was still a part of our relationship, but I found myself changing my mind about that. I don’t mean that we are never romantic of course, but these days, most of the things we do for each other which could be termed as romance are just part of what we do. I feel that to be romantic a gesture should be beyond the normal every day expectations, so in many ways we have pretty much replaced romance with D/s.
I don’t mean that this is the case for all D/s relationships, but for us, the power exchange provides a tight structure that doesn’t leave as much space for romance. We are, for the most part, nice to each other all the time, we think about each other all the time, and we are focussed on each other all the time. I concluded that for us D/s was beyond romance. It seemed like a next step. It was a way of taking those feelings you get when you make or receive a romantic gesture, and making them a permanent feature.
I suppose I see romance as being part of vanilla relationship. What I want is harder and more gritty. I don’t just want the roses, I want to experience the thorns. I don’t just want to be wooed and won, I wanted to be hunted and overpowered. I don’t really send Valentine’s cards for this reason – they just don’t seem to say what I want them to. That said, I was very lucky to receive two this year: one from HL and one from PS. Both of them said a lot because of what they had written inside, so I may have dismissed this prematurely.
So maybe it’s not the romance it’s what you do with it?
Well I think this could be the thing, and the events of yesterday probably testify to that. I didn’t give HL a card but I did make him some Flødeboller to celebrate. This was something new, and tricky enough (especially the vegan version) to feel that I had made a special effort for him. I also made a nice meal for us and we enjoyed it with a glass of wine. All normal enough, but then the romance of the day must have tangled with my traditional side, and suddenly a wave of vanilla came over me.
My playlist of lovesongs encouraged me and I got up from the table, walked around to HL, straddled him in his chair and sat down on his lap. He looked a little surprised but made no protest as I lifted his phone from out of his hand, placed it on the table, and began to kiss him. I think he asked me what I was doing. I think I replied that I thought he might like it. And then, I carried on. I kissed him and touched him and ground myself a little into him to the beat of two songs off the playlist. And then I climbed back off.
Well the world didn’t end. Neither did I get a spank. Rather he offered to clear up while I went for a bath, so definitely a vanilla aroma, but instead I helped him. His plan had been for us to have the early bath, slip into something slinkier and watch something together on TV. I assumed there might be play planned for later but wasn’t entirely sure as I had been given no instructions beyond that. Again, I stepped across the line. Having bathed, I set up the bedroom, selected some music and positioned myself seductively on the bed to wait.
Life with more than one flavour ….
He seemed surprised when he came into the room to find me so positioned. “I thought you might like to fuck me as it is Valentine’s day,” I said. It seemed he did. And I suppose that is likely where the vanilla ended. He began kissing me. Hard. He ordered me into position and began touching me. I also played with him, teasing and touching and trying to get the response I wanted. But the way he fucked my mouth, took me roughly from behind with his finger in my arse, and undid me with a very long drawn out wand-induced orgasm was definitely more thorns than roses.
The vanilla had certainly been there in the room with us though, even if it only paved the way for the other flavours. And so that is the story of my unusually vanilla valentine’s day. More romance anyone?