Culture Clash
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Culture ShockChapter 18 free porn video
Elaine grabbed Kendra's arm before they entered the clinic. She looked around before hissing, "I thought we were going to see an Ob-Gyn..."
Kendra shook Elaine's grip. "I've seen an Ob-Gyn. This is the doctor. You know, The Doctor. I'm getting rid of it. Jeez, Elaine. What did you think I needed? My hand held in the waiting room?"
Elaine's eyes narrowed. "You could've just been honest."
"This is my decision. I don't need anyone else telling me what to do."
"Jesus, Kendra. I agree with you. It's your decision. But before you make it, you should at least be informed. It's traumatic for God's sake. 'Getting rid of it', as you so eloquently put it, doesn't sound like a considered opinion to me."
"I've had plenty of time to think it over."
"What's the rush? You said you were at six weeks."
Kendra swallowed. "Ten weeks."
Elaine shook her head. Mostly to herself, she mumbled, "Why am I here?"
"Look. Sorry, okay?" The sad look Elaine had seen the night before flashed across Kendra's face again. "I'm scared. All right?"
Elaine thought maybe Kendra was three-dimensional after all. This was a hell of a way to find out. "Just tell me what's going through your head."
"I'm too young to have a kid. I have no idea who the father is. I can't afford it. And I don't like babies. In that order. Satisfied?"
Elaine sighed. "Yeah, I guess."
"Can we go inside?"
"No."
"No?"
"I want to give you a hug first."
The experience Kendra endured was one Elaine didn't want first hand. After they hobbled up the steps and inside to Kendra's bedroom, Elaine doled out two painkilling tablets and fetched some water. After supervising Kendra taking the pills, she tucked her in bed fully clothed. Kendra insisted Elaine go to class. Fifteen minutes later there wasn't much Elaine could do. Kendra was out like a light.
Reluctantly Elaine left her roommate, spending the afternoon worrying about possible complications and all the unwanted children in the world. She just wanted to get back to the apartment and make sure Kendra was all right.
Arriving home late in the afternoon, Elaine knocked softly before opening Kendra's door. She was still asleep. Elaine didn't wake her. Instead she decided to make spaghetti, Kendra's favourite dish. While the sauce was reducing, Elaine made some notes for the assignment that was due after the weekend. By the time Chelsea came home Elaine was back in the kitchen, stirring the sauce. Chelsea asked where Kendra was and Elaine told her.
"Is she all right?" Chelsea asked.
"I think so."
"Is that spaghetti I can smell?"
"Yes."
"Yum."
Chelsea flopped in front of the TV in the lounge room while Elaine got dinner together. She wasn't sure how Chelsea might react when Kendra told her about the termination. Maybe that was why Kendra hadn't told her. Or maybe Chelsea did know but simply couldn't take Kendra to the clinic.
She shook her head and wrinkled her nose remembering the events of the day.
While waiting for Kendra, Elaine thought she'd enquire about getting a blood test. The whole idea of asking someone to check if she had a clean bill of health 'for sex', made her very nervous. But she'd gathered up the courage to ask the secretary about it and the next minute she'd been whisked into an examining room. Elaine had snagged an appointment with a weedy doctor who'd had 'an unfortunate cancellation'. Elaine had wondered who the unfortunate one was, as the unfamiliar man had poked and prodded her, drawn her blood and made her pee in a cup. He'd even called her a 'good girl' for doing it.
She was glad she didn't have medical fantasies. The whole experience would have been a real downer.
Still, she'd get her results the next day and could pick up the written report before the weekend.
Spooning out the spaghetti, Elaine made a small serving for Kendra and took it to her room. She woke her and placed the bowl on her bedside table. Kendra thanked her but rolled over, saying she wasn't hungry. Elaine left it there anyway, quietly suggesting Kendra yell out if she needed anything.
Returning to the lounge room, Elaine joined Chelsea and ate in front of the TV while some crazy show was on. Elaine's mind was elsewhere. She was thinking about Kendra and also about the paper she had to write. Not the one for school, the one for Gary. About 'being submissive'.
As soon as Elaine was done eating, she retired to her room to 'study' and got started right away. It didn't take her long at all. She just wrote from her heart.
'What does being submissive mean to you?' By Elaine MilanovicTo me, being submissive means wanting to please someone 'for myself'. I am the one who benefits. It is 'my' basic need that is being fulfilled. The thought excites me unbelievably. To know someone so well, to trust them so much... I ache to be able to look into his eyes and tell him, 'I will do anything for you.' The freedom of my submission beckons to me through a thick fog, just out of reach. I can almost taste it.
I am inexperienced. But I'm not stupid. Consciously or unconsciously, I've chosen not to get wrapped up in the meat market of nightclubs and college life. I stand by those choices and I don't regret any decision of importance in my life. I've been instilled with a respect for authority that permeates my being. My father being military had much to do with that. Succeeding is important to me and I have been thinking lately that I am more self-disciplined than I thought. I am serious and thoughtful. I do well at school and I like to think 'my head is screwed on straight'.
And yet I am considered to be kinky. Or at least 'my thoughts and desires' are. I don't understand it. I can't see how 'pleasing myself' is wrong when it's safe, sane and consensual. It just doesn't make sense.
All my life I've tried to be pleasing. I've been 'good'. I've been what my parents wanted. I haven't been in trouble with the police and I haven't been a young, unwed mother. I've tried to make them proud. And yet, I haven't been perfect. I've caused them heartache and worry. I was a normal teenager. But I've survived. I have a good reputation.
I have a better imagination.
I've realised fairly recently that I like to masturbate. A lot. The images I have in my mind are extreme when compared to most people. 'Being made love to' is not my sole desire. I do desire romance and I want it desperately, but that's not all. I want more. Much more. I don't want sex to take five minutes. I'm quite sure a five-minute fuck could be mind-blowing. But not all the time. And I don't want it to be a chore. I want it to be passionate and I want it to be hot. I want to explore what is possible and I want to be pushed beyond what I've imagined.
I want to be able to let go.
I need to trust. And communicate. I need to know I am truly cared for and that my needs are important. I want to know whether I am doing well or not. I need to make 'my man' happy and I need to know I am succeeding. I want to truly and actually adore him. For he 'would' be mine in my submission, just as I would be 'his' in his Domination. I want to trust him implicitly and I want to allow myself to be what my Dominant wants, while at the same time be taken to where, in his heart, he knows I want to go.
I want to be able to submit myself to his will. I want to be free to do as he asks. I've thought about this a lot, and not just while masturbating. Most of what I see as 'humbling myself before my Dominant', is desirable to me.
Smiles.
I want to be his. And I want to be considered. I want communication and I want my sexuality to be expanded for his and my benefit. I want to rely on him and I don't want to feel guilty about it. Not because I am 'easily led', but because I want a genuine partnership.
I want to find the safety and the structure within which I can be free. Free to be me. Free to become whoever I wish to be in the future. I don't know what I'm capable of doing or being. But I know I belong. From what I've read, from what I've experienced, and from how it makes me feel, I know that submission is what I want.
So to me, submission is an expression of my freedom. It gives me the opportunity to openly communicate my needs in a safe and structured environment. It means knowing and trusting someone so much. And it means pleasing someone who can fulfil my needs. But most of all, it means choosing. Choosing who I want to be, choosing how I submit, and choosing into whose knowledgeable hands that I will deliver myself.
Elaine sat back in her chair and sighed. She hated writing things without researching. But she'd written all she could think of then edited it three or four times. She hoped he liked her answer and that she hadn't said anything wrong. She just tried to be honest. She knew that things might not work out with Gary. She had to keep reminding herself that this was just the first step on what might be a long journey.
She bit her lip as she pressed 'send', then turned her attention to her journal.
The first thing that occurred to her was, 'What a day.'
So she wrote it down.
"Grins."
Gary's message popped up on Elaine's screen giving her a fright. She'd been concentrating hard, working on her Metaphysics essay due next Monday. At least her term paper due Friday was done. "One moment, please," she typed, saving her work and closing windows.
"Sure."
Within a minute she was ready. "Hello, Sir," she typed, adding a smile.
"Hello, Elaine. I just got done reading your answer to my question about being submissive. I think you are just about ready."
"Ready for what?"
"For the presidency. What do you think? For the weekend, silly."
"Oh. I'm sorry, Sir. It's been a a strange day."
"I'll say. Though I would have thought it was somewhat depressing after reading your journal."
"A bit. It's just a bad situation, I guess. Bad all round."
"Let's talk about it."
So they did. Elaine talked about everything that had gone through her head that day. As the opportunity to unload opened in front of her, she began to smile. Gary listened and took it all in. He added his own opinion and they talked things through. They had comparable outlooks on sex, contraception and the abortion issue. They had both assumed correctly that the other was of a similar mind, though they were glad they covered the subject. And they both enjoyed seeing how the other's brain worked.
About an hour later the topic had been exhausted and Gary said, "A lot of this could go in your journal, you know."
"I never know what to put in it and what to leave out," Elaine replied.
"Well, in real life, you would have my undivided attention to tell me all about your day. Every day, a time would be set-aside for you to do that. During that time, you would be encouraged to tell me not just 'what you did', but how you thought about it and any questions that might have arisen about any aspect, or indeed any subject at all. Your journal either replaces or augments that time."
"Augments?"
"There is no reason why you couldn't keep a journal for the rest of your life if it suited you."
"I see. It's a work in progress."
"I'm sure it will take shape as you realise and explore its benefits."
"So it hasn't displeased you."
"Not at all."
"I should just work toward using it more effectively."
"You can work toward using it however you like. Once you've met the basic requirements, the sky is the limit. That's the point."
"Could you tell me the exact basic requirements please, Sir?"
"Haven't I told you?"
"I don't think so."
"The basic requirements are to outline the happenings of your day and any feelings, thoughts, needs or desires that they provoked."
"Oh. I think you did tell me that."
"Smiles. In the future, more things may be added such as any rules or instructions we've decided on, or any delayed reactions to discussions we've had. I think we communicate pretty well already, so as long as those basic requirements are met, I can't see any reason why you can't just enjoy your journal and do with it as you wish."
Elaine read Gary's words a couple of times. She was surprised by how laterally she was thinking. She wondered if Gary would catch her wavelength. "A bit like D/s."
"Hmmmm," he sent.
Elaine smiled to herself.
In no time Gary was typing again. "Yes, a bit." He sent a smile. "D/s is the same in that if you meet your Dominant's basic requirements, then you move to the next level, and so on and so on. If you get a match, then the world is your oyster. The trick is in taking the time to find your match. When your boundaries and limits converge and you can assume correctly what the other wants and needs, then yes, you are truly free to do anything within those boundaries and limits."
There was something Elaine hadn't understood. "What do you mean by, 'the next level'?"
"Well, they loosely equate to 'friend', 'boyfriend', 'serious boyfriend', and 'married partner'. They are: your Mentor, your Trainer, your Dominant, and your Master. From my point of view, it's my 'mentoree' which I don't think is a word, then my trainee, my submissive, and my collared submissive."
"Where am I up to?" Elaine wondered if the question was appropriate, though not until after she'd sent it.
"I'd say there is still a lot of mentoring going on and a fair bit of training. We have a long way to go."
"Is it normal to 'like' the idea of having something to aim at? Like a career path?" Elaine smiled at her words and sent the face with its tongue poking out.
Fawn
- 10.07.2020
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