In the Pink

Love.

Such an underrated word -- such an overblown concept. The ancient Greeks (for all I know, the current Greeks also) have a plethora of words for love. It's a sensible way to handle things, since the one single poxy word that we use is greatly overstretched and strained to bursting.

Love, to me, when talking about my primary BDSM relationship, is mutual, warm, and all-encompassing. Not a day goes by without my thanking the *insert deity of your choice* for the love I have been blessed and honoured to find with that evil rotten Cat of mine.

****************************

I lay next to him, with him curled around me, and me around him. Outside the wind blew, belying the sunshine that streamed in through the window, but I was warm and enfolded in the arms of the Cat.

Unusually, it had not been the regular rollercoaster ride of a session, with upended furniture and paraphernalia hanging from various wall and ceiling fixtures. One could go so far as to call the previous few hours "sedate" -- word rarely used in conjunction with the Big Bad Cat and his notorious collection of pervertibles.

Distressed at seeing me in tears (over an incident unrelated to the session), he held me close and soothed me until I subsided. And that's how we stayed. Entwined and interwoven limbs, stroking and whispering, until my hiccups had faded and my breathing had returned to normal.

Still slightly sniffly, I turned to him.

"You don't mind that this session turned into a BDSM-less cuddle-fest, do you?"

He shifted fractionally, until his chin was resting on my head.

"Of course it's BDSM. Everything we do is BDSM. The difference is that it's also love, and a relationship. So it didn't involve flogging or spanking or roped restraint today. So what? You're still my Pink Tabby, and I'm still the NEMRF -- the bane of your existence and the love of your life."

He has such a wonderful way with words.

"Well, cuddles are on my fetish list on Fetlife."

"Zigackly."

😄