Passion and control

Driving in the car, freeway, talking on the phone with Z
He says:
If I tied you down, spreadeagled on the bed and put a butt plug up your ass and spanked you, would you like that?
Yes, I say.
And would you like it if I tied your legs together and then your arms, and pulled you to the edge of the bed and fucked your face?
Yes, I say.
And would you like it if I tied you up and whipped you, and whipped those big breasts, and then fucked your ass?
Yes, I say.

I take a deep breath.
I want you to use me in any way you want, I tell him. I want to be your slut.
Uhhh, he moans. "My sweet, submissive slut."
Yes.
You belong to me, he says. Your pussy and your ass and your mouth and those big breasts.
Yes, I say. "You can do whatever you want."

I don't know exactly why I crossed the line on giving myself to this man, but I do know when.

It was two nights ago, when I forgave him for posting on Craigs List and decided to give the relationship another shot.

We have new words we're trying out now, words he has probably said before, to other women, but words that are totally new to me.

Belong is one new word, as in I belong to you.
Use is another, as in use me as you want.

The erotic charge I get from saying these things to Z amazes me-- as does the vigor of his response to them.

What if the passion I have been seeking has been here all along, waiting for the moment when I gave up control?

What if R can be the dom I seek, the safe place where I can let go?