"Come Here"

Those are words I've heard a lot lately. Always in the evenings, usually when I'm all curled up in the nest I make on our bed watching TV. He's sitting on the lounge and he's placed a pillow on the floor between his feet.

It surprised me the first time he said those words to me. I didn't understand what he wanted at first. He's never asked me to sit at his feet before and it seemed a little out of character for him. I thought it a little odd, but I did it anyway.

He wasn't just flexing his dominance muscle though, he gave me a massage. I've been having a terrible time with pain in the shoulder of my dominant arm. Some days I can barely raise the arm it's so painful. That makes simple everyday things like dressing myself or doing my hair very difficult.

Musicman has extremely strong hands and he always manages to work the kinks out for me. It hurts when he's doing it, enough to take my breath away, but it helps. By the time he's done, I'm a puddle of mush at his feet.

Then his hands start to roam, encircling my throat, down my shirt to twist and tweak. The gasps are no longer from the pain, it's all about his hands and what they do to me. His mouth, so close to my ear, he starts to give directions.

He tells me exactly how he wants me to position myself. He tells me exactly what he wants me to do. He tells me exactly what he wants to see. He tells me exactly what he is going to do to me.

My world has narrowed, the only thing that penetrates the fog of pleasure, his hands roaming, his voice in my ear. I react to each direction without a moment of hesitation. My body may be sitting at his feet, but my soul is soaring through the ether.

I've discovered I like sitting at his feet.