Ownership

My first assignment is to write for Thirty how I view his ownership of me, when it occurred, and what I expect from it/him. Honestly, outside of sex, ownership just feels like I'm talking about a car or something...and I definitely don't feel owned in that sense. Possession is a better word...a sexier word. When I'm with him, I feel less owned and more possessed. Do they mean the same thing? Generally, yes.

From Pat Conroy's novel South of Broad: We kissed some more, and when I pulled back, I could feel the loosening and the possession take place.

I relate to those words. I felt it the first night we spent together...I know the moment it occurred. As if a fog lifted, my head and heart opened and I felt peace for the first time in my life. I felt my soul surrender and submit to him...in my bed, his mouth on mine, his hands around my neck...and I haven't questioned it once.

How does he own me then? I am addicted to the way he makes me feel...not just the orgasms. I feel completely safe with him...no fear. I am able to fully allow him to take me out of my comfort zone because I trust him infinitely when our bodies are together, breathing as one. He makes me face my insecurities and self-consciousness, and I don't resent him for it. I'm feeling everything and nothing and it thrills and terrifies me. When he hurts me, the pain is good. As it eases into pleasure, it is even better...like a warmth washing over me...leading to a climax that takes my breath away and pulls me deeper into his possession. I am his to mold as he will.

What do I expect? Safety...protection...openness...trust...affection...instruction...love. And as much of his time as I am allowed...