The Gentleman and the Sadist

February 21

There’s a man I know, a delicious and deviant man, a devil disguised as a gentleman or a gentleman disguised as a devil depending on his mood.

The very best kind of man. The one who’ll open a car door for me and use the same hand to slap my face for my transgressions.

The one who looks at me and sees my soul and slowly and surely strips me and breaks me. This man can only do this because I see him too - he’s a gentleman, a safe man, a worthy and honourable man. He’s the kind of man who makes me fully realise what it means to surrender myself. He is my safe and my warmth.

He listens to hear, not to pretend or for his own selfish gain but because I am me and I am important.

And his deviant and sadistic ways, they are sublime. One could argue they are juxtaposed to the gentleman, but I see they aren’t. They only exist and work because of his wholeness. They exist in a beautiful and intricate dance with my need for his *** and his passion, his lightness and his darkness.

The gentleman’s sadistic ways are heightened by my need for them and my response to them and it is beautiful and intoxicating to see and feel the change in him.

The man who would hold open the car door, who would listen to me and soothe me is the same man who wraps his hand around my throat and teaches me to ask and beg for what I need. And what I need is him, his whole, his entirety.

This is the man who questions what I need in order to soothe me, discusses the most appropriate balm for my beautiful bruises and brought live with aloe in it as he though it would be more soothing to me. Yet when the sadist is unleashed he has no problem harming me and bruising me and hurting me in the most beautiful of ways - he simply also wants to repair me afterwards.

The gentleman hears my desperate need to be able to let my emotions out and have a fully cathartic crying session but understands how difficult this is for me. The sadist comes up with ways of causing me enough *** to give me what I need to cry but the gentleman ensures that the *** I receive will also make me melt and that I’ll feel safe enough to let my emotions out.

The gentleman and the sadist exist in one man in beautiful balance and each appears when the time and need is right. I am his because of the different sides to him and because I trust that those sides will care for me and hurt me in the most appropriate ways and I know that whatever happens he will always put me back together and hold me after he breaks me.

My squeals are his passion, a song to his soul, the glaze in my eyes when he brings me to the edge over and over and over again spurs him on and my utter surrender when he wraps his hand around my neck let’s him know he’s hitting all the right buttons. Yet his gentle kisses and pleas for me to give him the same confirm what I already know in my soul - the man is a gentleman at heart and he needs all of my sides too.

And the best part of all, he’s just getting started…

Love,

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