(I Just) Died in Your Arms

Gimp dreaming of turning the tables on his Love and goddess. For Love and for good.

A while back I wrote about time travel: waking up next to an empty pillow. A series of lovely images of Isabella Sinclaire and her gimp girl is what triggered it. But what if gimpy wakes up only to discover it's mistress, not Sweetie smiling at them? Oops?

Safe and secure. Zero leather. Fully protected.

Linking romance with love and sex is easy. It's harder when it comes to femdom. Obedience does not equal love. Love is about balance. It's a two-way street, think Yin and Yang. Continuous, fluent and never-ending. Light shades laying side by side with dark ones in perfect harmony. Two elements that are both complementary and unique but above all cannot be separated.

Shadows need light to be seen. Yet without shadow light has no meaning. The elegance of yin and yang shows us how the sum is larger than its consecutive parts.

Waking up from my - rather complicated - dream, her hands all over me. Yummy. 'Sadly' [don't forget to insert more yummy here] I'm unable to move because my Love has trapped me. Mrs. Divine & Devious wrapped me up as her personal turkey slash gimp before we went to bed last night. OK, she knows I want this too. I think. Still not fully awake I slip back into the left-overs of last night's dream.

Falling in love is easy. If you're willing to pay the price. How much and in what currency you'll find out later. Love is about trust. To this day I wonder how someone who basically doesn't do trust, falls asleep in my arms, defenseless [4] and with zero hesitation. Why me? What have I done to deserve this? [6] Thank you angel. I'm a fool and because of that I'm not easily scared but there's one thing I fear: letting her down [1]. Upon realizing that I hold her even closer. Worst. Idea. Ever. Of course it is. But how can you blame me? Look at her. [6] I manage to regroup and my arms loosen their grip. A little. Let's no get over excited here. Her heartbeat doesn't care. She knows. There she is, tucked away safely [3] in my arms (yes my arms. Mine!). She doesn't know a thing about my panic attack. [11]

More hands that call me back from dreamland. It feels so good. I want to turn over, look into her eyes, kiss her and tell her I love her too. How presumptuous, that is me telling her I love her too. Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere, remember? Not exactly cold turkey, I'm still feeling romantic but how do I express my feelings. My love and mistress must be a mind reader as she places her hand between my legs. That plan is certainly going nowhere. In a rerun of her being in my arms last night, feeling safe and secure, now it's my turn. Unfortunately for me I'm wide awake and pretty much done with the romance thing. Especially after she presses her beautiful boobies in my back. I stop after encounter #11. Her spell makes it harder and harder to concentrate. She knows. No way out, so I brace for the next wave.

She presses her body against mine even more firmly. She radiates love, meanwhile my rubbery prison is no match for the warmth of her body. She sends her hand on another scouting missing, securing the region north of my upper legs. And the worst thing? All the time, she whispers sweet words into my ear. And yes, despite her combined booby-hand attack, I hear her loud and clear. Beautiful words.Vocal and non-vocal. It's almost as if her hands start to smile. My yin not so much. I love you. Yes this is romantic. Bla bla bla. Now untie me and let's have sex. I'm pretty much desperate sweetie. And you know! [J'accuse.] And I'm more than ready. Talk to the hand? Take my advice and don't. All it ever does is making sure you end up in her spider's web just like me.

Oh and did I forget to mention my Love and mistress practices safe femdom. Yes, plugged, gagged plus a few strategically placed electrical wires. Just in case. Mistress love my creativity but doesn't want me to get the wrong idea. Like having sex. I like that. Mistress? Mistress pushes me on my back. My heart skips a beat as she pushes her body against mine. I want her so much. Now. Right now. She looks into my eyes. And no they don't tell me it's still Sunday.

Hello baby, you don't have to look into my eyes to tell me you love me, I know. Next layer please? Arrgh, more of the same. Yes I know you love me, now let's have sex. It feels like an eternity because all I get from looking into her eyes is that she loves me. Of course I know, so why don't I relax and enjoy the ride? It's hard enough as it is. It's not like there's anything else to do with the whole Sunday morning bondage thing going on and so. I still want her. And it's not a pudding to prove it down there, rather the opposite. She smells my desperation and looks into my eyes with even more love if such a thing is possible. Finally I get it and relax. It's so easy to fall in love but much harder to accept someone can you love back just as hard. And loves femdom too. Rather ferociously.

Night after night she falls asleep in my arms, feeling safe and secure. I promise. Her gently breathing in my arms is my addiction, yes, but above all she showing personal strength. She loves me, trusts me and talk is cheap. It only makes me love her more. But why me? Don't worry, you're the best thing that ever happened to me but why me? Our eyes talk. I'm doomed. I relax. Because I'm hers. Still I wish I wasn't tied up in this body bag because I want her. Despite that I manage to relax my body. For about 99 percent. Again she looks into my eyes. I'm screwed. She wants it all, even that last one percent. Luckily she waits patiently for me and it finally dawns, we're the same. She's mine and I'm hers.

My Love and mistress 'tucking me in' hardcore last night is no different from her falling asleep in my arms. And before you object me being just another horny guy not thinking straight, wrong. Vanilla sex both Saturday morning and late that afternoon. And no, when she she says perhaps I should think about it a little longer I do. And ask her for advice. Because she loves me and cares for me. That's the woman who's got me tied up - smiling - on a random Saturday night. [8]

Yep, it's only Sunday morning. Last night I fell asleep, smiling how my dreams had finally come true. Effortless, kinky stuff during the night and hot, hot sex afterwards as the icing on the cake. Congratulations to me, I've just discovered nothing is ever what it seems. And no, I've slept well, thank you. The very thought of her in my arms relaxes me. From a distance I see her smile. In a flash I realize I'm now her. The difference between us is that whenever she does, it has nothing to do with kink, it's just 100 percent pure love. Me ending up in a carnavalesque bondage outfit has everything to do with it. Or does it? I'm so not gonna let some random stranger - beautiful eyes or not - tie me up. Still I feel vulnerable. Have I mentioned that I don't like pain? Now you know. Who cares? I surrender to her voluntarily - don't mistake that for droolingly, please ignore. My Love and mistress accepts and look at me now. Pretty much afraid of what's next. Drawing strength from having her by my side. Her, the woman who reinvented fear factor because she thinks it's fun.

Love her. Hate pain. Happy to be her turkey. Regret is temporary, our love forever. Even if it's not, right here and now she loves me and I'm in trouble. Her eyes don't just say trust me, they signal how much she loves me back . Written in capital letters.  No need - not that she can stop - my body has already relaxed. With my soul long surrender, now it's time for my body to bow down to the One i Love. For about 99 percent. Argh, bodily autonomy. Some things never change. I surrender. I want to, I crave to. But only you. It's all she needs to know. This woman on top of me, pressing her beautiful, gorgeous body against the latex that separates the flesh, suddenly looks me in the eyes: 'I love you, now let's have some fun.' It's gonna be pretty bad.

'D'oh, your body language, remember' but that strategically placed gag prevents me from talking back. I wonder why. Instead I signal her with my eyes, vowing to be her subordinate on our secret mission together always and forever. For-ever. Please just remember my doctor's note explaining how pain hurts me, my Love and mistress.

Much, much later I realize how my Love guides me by falling asleep in my arms. She may or may not know how much I struggle with the trust she lays down besides me. Every time I surrender to Her as my mistress it hits me like a hammer she was there first. And why? I'm just a guy who loves a girl. Why put your trust in me? What have I done to deserve this? And yes I'll fight to the end to prove you right but how?

Now imagine I go to sleep after us having lots of sex on a Saturday night. Yes, that bondage outfit looked pretty hot last night. No worries about my personal safety. The next morning, being powerless, facing a day full of torment, surrender pretty much sucks. And oh yes, my Love and mistress is in charge of what looks like a harsh, cruel day. [10] Not sure if I'm looking forward to it. My ultimate reward - and hopefully part of hers - is the light at the end of the tunnel. She is the one I love and trust. She is also my Mistress (yes Mistress for once) and Owner. Her power over me is glorious and beautiful, then again so are my tear to come. Her loving guidance is what makes me accept her as my owner. I'm a lucky guy for being given the privilege of choosing my owner. The very notion of me being at her feet, wherever, whenever she wants, looking up at her, brings me so much joy.

There is this unique quality to the woman who falls asleep in your arms most nights, pushing herself even closer - and not by accident -  only to turn into the most impressive, dominant mistress any man could wish for. [9] [12] In the end nothing really matters. I'm still horny as hell, blame her hands but also very much tied up. Help! I love you. Untie me and let's properly unite. [10]

Trust me, femdom is not only beautiful, at times it's also very romantic. Just a little complicated. As for la petite mort, that's up to her, but no, not this Sunday.

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[1] That excludes the usual nonsense about 'if you really love me...' and 'if you're serious about being a slave and serving me'. [2]

[2] In the end all women are sadists. They make you fall in love with them. Fear is for other people. Agreed, falling in love means you'll never stop worrying. Why cannot things be simple? Boobies, sex, bondage gear, beautiful eyes. And that's how you spell game over. I hate the alphabet.

[3] Safely? I guarantee!

[4] 'Defenseless? With your arms around me? Really sweetie?' Next I hear her telling me of. 'If I trust you, you better trust yourself. [5] After all I'm the one sleeping in your arms.' Now that's yin and yang. And she's right. It's just that I don't want her to get hurt, especially not by me doing something silly. Agreed, makes no sense at all but let's blame it on the alphabet. Any ideas for a better one?

[5] Am I the only one who hears her whispering 'or else' - the vanilla version? Which is even worse.

[6] Did I ever tell you about the time when she was in my arms, vast asleep and all I ever wanted was to draw a unicorn on her right cheek? Would've looked awesome. In the end, I didn't. She wouldn't understand. [Despite the fact she knows I'm bonkers, go figure.] [666]

[7] Even I met them monsters who say 'I love you' just as easy as they order a drink.

[8] Honestly? Yes, she added several exploratory devices like a gag and plug in case I wouldn't see the light the next morning. Plus a few electrical cables running from inside my latex prison.

[9] If you think: gags are the solution, I agree.

[10] Not very big on farmer's markets either. Choices, choices, choices.

[11] Most of the time we talk without words. She'll probably never realize but she knows. The days where I believed boobies are all that matters when it comes to love are long gone. Sex has taught me well.

[12] Let's leave the handle it-department for some other time.

[111] In case anyone wonders, now you know why I just don't tell anyone I love them. Why?

[666] Next time angel. Don't say I didn't warn you. xxx

[999] 缘分. And it sucks.

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And no, the only eighties track that comes to mind is not by the Pet Shop Boys. They deserve their own post. No idea how the Cutting Crew got its name but it doesn't make me any less afraid of needles. I'll hand the mic to Wik [ipedia]:

The words "I just died in your arms tonight" allegedly came to Van Eede while he was having sex with his girlfriend,^[3] the French phrase la petite mort, or "the little death", being a metaphor for orgasm. After writing down his version of the phrase, he later used it as the opening line to the song as well as using it as the chorus.

Music needs no instruments. Watch the clip on Youtube.