(Not much kink here today. You want kink? Go follow this guy.)
He took me by the hand and pulled me into his bedroom. The bedroom was very large: in the corner was a small couch and lounging chair, across from them a desk, bookshelves and a wardrobe
(Oh My God I just realized where the inspiration for the wardrobe in all the Bentmoore stories came from Holy Moses)
and in the center of the room, a heavy king-sized mattress on the floor, serving as a bed. He was in between beds at that time (long story), but I thought the mattress on the floor was great. It seemed stylish and more cozy.
He pulled me down to my knees on the mattress and continued to undress me, stripping himself at the same time.
"We can't do this," I hissed. "I have my period." This must have been the six or seventh time I'd said it since walking into his apartment.
He stopped for a minute. "Is it very bad?"
"Well, no," I admitted. "It's almost over, so it's not very bad. But I'm still bleeding."
He walked to the bathroom, by now completely naked--I got a great view of his ass, to this day that man has a great ass--got a towel, and laid it across the mattress.
"There," he said. "Why are you still wearing your bra?"
At this point, inside, I knew we were going to fuck, period or no. He had a way of seducing me into compliance, just by his charisma and authoritative attitude, that still works to this day. I couldn't outright refuse him, I couldn't think up a good argument against him, and the sight of his naked ass walking across the room had tipped me over the edge.
But when we were done, there was blood everywhere, not just on the towel. The whole sheet was stained with drops of blood.
"Oh, God." I started stripping the sheet off the mattress, both to keep the stains from going through, and to hide the evidence of my disgrace.
And then, from behind me, I heard Husband laughing. Laughing.
"This is what you were so worried about? A few stains on a old sheet I probably should've gotten rid of by now anyway? Well, if this gets you to make my bed and do my laundry, by all means, go ahead." He laughed harder.
I wanted to throw the bundle of sheets at him. I wasn't just angry at that point, I was hurt. He clearly wasn't even trying to understand what I was going through. I dropped the ball of sheets on the bed and walked into the bathroom.
He came up behind me as I was waiting for the water in the shower to warm up. I turned to face him and said, "I don't think we should have sex anymore while I have my period. We'll just have to wait."
His answer was swift and emphatic.
"ARE YOU CRAZY? Why?"
"Because." I got in the shower, and he followed me in.
"Hey. Hey," he grabbed my shoulder and spun me around. "This whole period thing really bothers you, doesn't it?"
"Okay," he sighed. I think he finally began to realize that this was one of those things in any relationship he did not have to understand, he just had to accept. We could talk about my reasons and fears and beliefs later, but at that moment, I needed to know he took my stance on the matter seriously, whether he agreed with it or not. This was about hard and soft limits, and although we didn't have the vocabulary for it yet, he certainly grasped the concept.
"Did you enjoy the sex?"
"Yes, but now I feel gross."
"Physically or mentally?"
"Physically. Mentally too, I guess. It's embarrassing."
He didn't ask why this time. I think he understood the "why" of it was a topic of conversation for another time.
"As far as the physical goes, that's easy to deal with. You're already in the shower--" he began to soap my inner thighs, making me gasp--"and I can clean you up. The sheet we can wash, or we can toss, whatever you want. Now, as for being embarrassed, I don't know why you have this thing about the blood--"
"It's not just about the blood--"
"But I really, really don't care. I think you're beautiful--" he kissed my nose-- "no matter what--" he kissed my brow-- "and your period is NOT going to stop me from wanting to make love to you. So if you feel very, very strongly about this, I won't push it, but I don't want you twisting this around so you think I'm the one who doesn't want it."
"How can you not care about the mess? It's so gross--"
He grabbed the soap and shoved it between my legs, rubbing it inside my pussy.
"This is how much I care," he growled. "I'll get up in there myself and wash you inside and out if that's what it takes to convince you. THIS IS NOT A REASON TO NOT LET ME TOUCH YOU. Understand?"
"Understand." My voice was rather breathless at that point. He was rubbing the soap everywhere, inside and out, just like he said he would.
The "period issue" still comes up every month. I still consider the ick factor as totally gross, and won't have sex on my heaviest days. But I don't think having my period makes me a disgusting person anymore, and I don't let it stop me from getting intimate in other ways with Husband. He can touch me all he wants, I can certainly touch him all he wants, and when the blood is not so bad, we just put a towel down on the bed and consider the problem solved.
Although we stay on the towel. After all, I am the one now who changes the bedding, does the laundry, and buys the sheets. We have very nice sheets; I'm not so willing to toss them.
I guess, my point out of all of this is, one of the jobs of a Dom is to help a woman feel good about herself and help her grow out of any misguided notions that serve to constrain her. He's got to strip away all the self-loathing and guilt and recriminations women feel (we all do, at some point), and make her see herself for the beautiful, sexy, worthy-of-love woman that she is. And that usually involves a lot of listening, and guiding, and sometimes a healthy dose of pushing and prodding, but a good Dom will know it's all worth it.
He will know when one of her limits is based on a legitimate concern, and when it's based on misplaced fear and, as was my case, a ridiculous perception of self-disgust. He will help her see her own weaknesses and face them head on, because he wants her to be a better, healthier, happier person. That is what makes a great Dom, and part of what makes a great foundation for any D/D relationship.