BDSM,  Experiences,  Thoughts,  Toy for Sir

Sorry for your Loss

It had been a long two weeks.  The death of her father was unexpected.  No death is ever easy even when it is anticipated.  This one hit hard.  Her mother had buried her first father after a heart attack and now her second husband dies the same way.  Making sense of it was not possible.  She and her mom would have a new normal.  Who knew how long it would take to figure out what that would be.  She needed to prep herself for all the “sorry for your loss,” mentions from people she barely knew.

The service was over.  Everyone said it was beautiful.  What the fuck did that even mean?  Everyone said nice things.  How could they not?  He was an amazing man.  Though she knew everyone meant well, she could not handle one more person telling her they were sorry for her loss.  She fought back the tears and the guilt that she didn’t spend more time with this wonderful man who never treated her like a “step” anything.   She shook it off, again, and started the car.  Mom was alone in the apartment surrounded by flowers and memories.  She refused the offer of the company saying she had to get used to it at some point.  She took in a deep breath and secretly prayed at some point in her life she would be able to harness her mother’s strength and make it her own.

She should probably go to the grocery store for food.  She refused her mom’s offer for leftovers of what the neighbors had brought.  She wasn’t hungry.  She drove to her friend’s house to get her dog.  He had been amazing to help out.   He took care of her dog and was there for whatever she needed.  Most of the times, he was there before she knew she needed him.

She pulled into the driveway.  Another deep breath and a big sigh.  She loved him.  She had always loved him.  They were the absolute definition of best of friends.   They were always there for each other.  When his grandfather died, she was there.  He was returning the favor and then some.  He was there when her daughter was struggling with drug addiction.  He was there for the destruction of her marriage.  He was there when work was horrible.  He was always there.

She texted that she was in the driveway.  That was their routine.  She would text to let him know and he would unlock the side door.  He was standing at the door when she walked in.  He turned away and headed to the kitchen.  She greeted all the dogs.  Settling the dogs, fighting the tears brought by the unconditional love that these three fury beings drowned her in.  He was busying himself in the kitchen.  Even threw her grief, she found this adorable.  He hated this kind of thing.  It was a shame that he hated it because he was good at it.  He wasn’t too emotional about things.  He was practical.  It was refreshing to hear, “get over your shit”, as opposed to, “my thoughts are with you”.   She stood up from her kneeling position and looked at him.  He walked toward her with a smirk on his face.  She knew the look.  It was his nervous look.  He stood close to her.  She smiled slightly and started thanking him for taking care of Gage.  He stepped closer to her.

“Are you ready?  I need to know if you are ready because I am going to hug you now.”

She felt the burn of the tears and nodded yes.  In an instant, his arms were around her.  She felt the pressure of his arms around her like a thermal blanket with a heating element.   There it was.  It had been weeks of making phone calls, setting schedules, accepting condolences, smiling through anger, depression, and misunderstanding, and wanting to be curled up in a ball in bed under the covers.  Her knees buckle and he catches her.  The tears flow freely and for the first time in weeks, she doesn’t fight them.  She lets them flow and fall.  She thinks she hears herself saying something, screaming maybe, she wasn’t sure.  He held her and let it all happen saying nothing.  No senseless words of encouragement.  No prayers offered.  Nothing.  Silence to allow her grief to leave her body.

He guides her to the living room where he had a drink waiting for her.  Whiskey from the homemade whiskey barrel she had bought him for Christmas.  It was small over ice.  He knows she is a lightweight.  She drinks it slowly.  She starts talking, reminiscing about her second Dad, adding things about her first Dad, reliving both distant and recent losses of extraordinary men in her life.  He is listening to every word.  Even though the news is on and he was looking at the television, she knows he is listening.

She puts her drink on the table and leans on him.  He opens his arm and gives her access to his lap where she lays her head.  Yes, they were friends.  He was her safe space.  For the years of her friendship with him, they had taken things further than friends should.  They talked about what possibilities they had and they both knew there was no future other than friendship.  He had given her experiences that she would never have had.  In any other situation, she would have asked permission to lay her head in his lap.  Tonight, no permission was needed.  He knew what she wanted and needed.  He wasn’t going to deny her, even if he didn’t think this was what she needed.

What she needed was to feel something other than emotional pain.  To feel relief.  To feel loved.  To be herself, or to be that part of herself no one knew but him.   They were friends, lovers, and he was her Dom.  There were times when this was difficult to sort out and decipher.  She loved every role she played in his life.  Tonight, she needed to be his baby girl.  Baby girl.  A role she never really thought she would play or enjoy.  Watching cartoons with him, anime, Disney movies and being silly was only a side he saw and she loved it.  She had deep guilt for wanting him in this way on this night.  She couldn’t explain it.  She needed it.  She needed him.  She needed Daddy tonight.  He was the only one that ever knew how to manage her stress.  Why would tonight be any different?

He moved his hand to her hair.  That was her sign.  She knew he knew.  She knew he would allow whatever she wanted.  He was slightly hesitant in his strength.  This was new.  He was never unsure.  She shifted her body and looked up at him.  He placed the remote on the coffee table, took a sip of his drink and placed it back on the table.  He took in a deep breath, looked down at her and locked her eyes.

“Are you sure Toy?”

“Yes, Daddy, I am sure.”

There was something so beautiful about their communication.  Wordless, mostly.  A look, a touch, a raised eyebrow.  Tonight was no different.  He stroked her hair twice and then gathered it in his fist and pulled it tightly.  He leaned down and whispered one more time, “are you sure Toy?”  She nodded and attempted a smile.  They both knew.  She wouldn’t smile, she couldn’t.  This would be fucking.  Purposeful fucking.  Release fucking.  Powerful, forceful fucking that would take her mind to a place it hadn’t been in a month.

He moved quickly.  She was on her knees on the floor before she had time to think about it.  She pulled up her dress and pulled down her panties.  She heard his belt, the zipper of his jeans.  She lowered her head and felt the weight of her body on her hand and knees.  He was already hard.  Even in the haze of grief, she found pleasure that she had excited him without touch.  The thought of fucking her was all he needed to be ready.  She felt his cock on her back.  He moved it slowly toward her clit.  Rubbing her clit to cover his cock with the wetness he found there.  She moaned from her soul.  She was ready to come.  He played with her.  His hand on her thigh pulling her hips closer to him.  Without warning, he thrust into her.   She let out a scream of pleasure that startled him.

“Are you ok, Toy?”

“yes, Daddy”

He placed both hands on her thighs and pulled her close again.  He held her there allowing her to stretch to welcome all of him.  Pressing tightly against her there was nothing between them.  Nothing.   She leaned into him trying to take more of him when there was nothing more to take.  She clenched her muscles around his cock.  He knew she was close.  He started moving slowly at first and then faster.  Each time his hips slammed into her body she felt the stress leaving her body.  She wanted the physical pain to replace emotional pain.  She begged him not to stop and begged him to thrust harder.  He gave her what she wanted.  In the living room on the carpet both fully clothed with nothing but his cock and her pussy exposed and connected she released everything she had at that moment.  Her orgasm was fast and strong.  Her contracting muscles squeezing him to his own orgasm.  They came together with a force they hadn’t felt in a while.   She fell to the floor as her knees and arms gave out.  He laid on top of her and held her tighter then she remembered he ever had.   They were breathing hard together.  His breath on her neck as he pulled her closer.  His arms around her never loosened and only got tighter when he realized she was crying.

He held her until their breathing calmed and regulated.  He whispered in her ear

“I’m still here Toy”.

She responded, “Yes Daddy, I know.”

She knew she would deal with all the emotions again.  Leaving him that night with her dog under her arm she felt better.  She would never be the same and the fucking wasn’t going to make the pain go away.  She knew they were friends, sometimes lovers, and sometimes D/s in all its kinky glory.  Tonight, she knew they were closer than ever.  Some people may not understand the need for that kind of fucking.  Some people wouldn’t understand fucking at all.  They did though.  That was what made them so good for each other.  She could have felt guilty about wanted something so personal and to happen.  Maybe even selfish.  What she felt was relaxed, relieved and calm.  Some people meditate.  What she had found is that sex makes her feel relaxed.  It is that thing she does for herself like everyone says she should do.  She felt loved.  Cared for.  She felt complete.  If that was wrong she was ok with being wrong.

She got home and crawled into bed.  She didn’t change her close, wash her face or shower.  She wanted to sleep with the smell of him still on her.  She would face the world tomorrow and her new normal.  Tonight, she took care of herself in the way she needed.  He knew it and she knew it.  He would never judge her.  That was what she loved about him.  She may on occasion remember that night with a tinge of guilt but it will be fleeting.  She felt calmer than she had in weeks.  She was complete and stronger.  She could handle whatever happened next.


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