Pleasure versus happiness- recollection

Due to unexpected circumstances, the other day (now some months ago) i got the chance to spend a happy 24 hours with Miss.

It started, as it often does with breakfast and ended with  breakfast too. In between there was time for some cleaning and tidying (along with a shamefully rare outing for an apron bought me as a gift many moons ago) a light supper, and an early retreat to bed.

This allowed for some extensive Miss time and then sleep - me encumbered with leather mittens. Despite my genuine protestations, the morning brought three orgasms and some recovery time in the form of a nap with my mittened hands now bound behind me. Quite disconcerting to wake up refreshed and find you slept while so bound. More bruises followed, then breakfast and escape, to home and a quiet weekend.

All of which is just a long preamble to a digression on pleasure versus happiness. I find it very pleasurable to be bound and teased. That is what i had planned to do with my Friday, before events intervened.  These are guilty pleasures though, guilty because of the acts themselves, but moreover because they are selfish pleasures. Being bound and tormented is a selfish pleasure because you just lie there and receive. It can be tough and scary, but it's largely passive.

But i am happy when i give pleasure, and so this recent day was in many ways perfect. For long periods Miss rested her feet on my lap and i stroked her feet and legs while she just comfortably stretched out on the sofa. There was no direct pleasure for me, not like when my legs stretch out over Miss's lap and she wrenches my privates out of their cosy knicker idyll and shows them who's boss.  But to stroke her tenderly and see her so blissed out and relaxed made me very happy. In a way that more direct pleasure for me, weirdly, does not and cannot.

After a very thorough rub down before sleep, including her old friends flopsy,  mopsy and rough towel (and to prove Miss is as curious as any of us - of the three i think rough towel is her favouritest) i went to sleep denied. When we woke that was soon rectified and, while i love being made to shake and shudder, it somehow feels more right to leave denied and thus purer. That my happinesss lies in seeing Miss happy and pleasured and not on being pleasured myself. That i am a better man for giving than receiving.

Least ways not in a way that will let me escape from my erotic suffering by climax and the rest that follows,  bound or otherwise... 😁

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