Although I’m wrapped up in the momentum of what’s going on between us, I’ve enough sense to know that I’m being conditioned. It’s thrilling but it’s also alarming, and letting it happen is the first step towards submitting to him fully.

When we were just writing to each other he said he needed to ask me certain things face to face to see my responses. It was a test. But one that I would have to take blind because he doesn’t give much away. Sometimes I’m frustrated about that. Is it just a way to retain the power, and keep me slightly off balance? I think so. This is emotional BDSM. I’m not sure what I’ve let myself in for and I hope I’m strong enough for this.

After our first date I asked him if I’d passed the test.
“With flying colours,” he told me. I’m such a sucker for a response like that. I didn’t even know what I’d been tested on but the high-achiever in me was puffing up from praise. I know I’m being played and I know that it’s working. Should I just split and run now before it gets any worse?
Because I couldn’t let it lie, I found out that my successful response was that I looked down and blushed when he made a sexually-charged comment about my tits. Apparently that is an indicator of a true sub. I know that I blushed more than once that day. Like when he asked to kiss me when we said goodbye.

Yesterday over coffee he was pushing me further to see how I’d respond.
“Would you like to wear my collar in public? Have me lead you round on a leash?”
My eyes flashed open, wildly startled. He must have read this as alarm as he began back-pedalling straight away.
“It’s too soon? Too soon to ask.”
I was surprised that he hadn’t learned to read the thrill of excitement that coincides with the moment of fear in me. Maybe that’s just what it’s about for me. I want to be scared. The fear makes me feel alive.

We were sat in a busy family cafe bar on a Sunday lunchtime and he said, “What would you do if I pulled you onto my knee and began spanking you right here?”
He seems so deadly serious when he says things like that and my brain fully does a mental three-point turn. Would he actually do it? I’m terrified again but tasting the sweetness of the fear instantly too. Then he threatened to do it at the Munch next weekend. Or to make me expose myself ‘sans underwear’ to everyone there. That would make quite a first introduction: Bournemouth Munch, meet Peggy’s pussy. Ugh.

I think a lot of people would find it strange that we’ve been doing this little dance for days, without anything physically intimate taking place between us. We’re in a stand off with each other because we can’t play at his place and I say we can’t play at mine. He knows I’m getting desperate to be spanked properly and he thinks he’s going to wear me down, that I’ll cave in and change my mind. Right now I’m doubling down on my defences. I know how easy I am but the boundary has been drawn and I’m not going to let it be breached.

I’ve started to wonder if we’ve reached stalemate in this game.


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