Mean Ole Dom

I’ve said it before…if you’ve ever seen a lion in a zoo? You’ve looked into the eyes of my Master.

Not the hopeless and lost lion, btw, but the proud one that looks at you, daring you to come closer. Just go ahead. Try it. Really. That one that will gobble you up and consume you when you accept that challenge?

That one is my Master.

When we play, it is fierce. He is merciless. I’ve seen videos and such of Dom’s smacking subs with whips, a beautiful swishing and flailing that doesn’t seem (at least to me) as though they are putting all that much force into it…a slow, steady thumping of whips and such on the flesh of the submissive, who lays there and whimpers a bit. It takes many many blows to raise even a hint of color.

Now, I’m not one to judge…not everyone bruises as easily as I do. I get that. I’m very fair-skinned, I blush easily, and mark even easier.  I’m currently sporting a fair-sized bruise on my leg with absolutely no idea what I banged into to mark me.

But I digress.

When HE hits me, it’s full-on. It’s not a gentle warm-up tap, but a quick, hard SMACK! This is no porno flick…. I *know* He’s not going full-force…my gods –He’d kill me for sure if He did. I know that He is using exquisite control. There’s a thrill there, even when I am literally breathless with the shocking pain of each blow.

He knows *exactly* how many of those sort of smacks I can take before I need a (brief) break to gasp, and cry, and breath. Sometimes He will touch me, stroke over the welts, feeling the heat pouring off my skin. Other times, He ignores me.

He’s hard, but not harsh. He gives great spank, incredible beatings.  We’ve played a tiny bit with Him punching me.

Fucking hurts.

And frigging turns me on. Damn me!

So what was my purpose in spilling all these facts to you about how rough He is, how tough He is?

This:

This is why you need to know He is a hard-assed Dom who keeps me on my toes.

Because He has let me into that steely heart of His. This was His Valentine/Birthday gift to me. And a card.

He went to a store.

He looked at cards, people. Read them and chose a *perfect* one that so reflects our relationship, and that I’m not going to share with you. Funny, I show you all my tits and ass but won’t show that. I know. Chalk it up to my own tender heart. I want to hold it close to me and smile over it in that teeny-bopper girly way, saying over and over, “He loves me! He loves me!”

He won’t say it.

(Okay, I heard Him say it to me once. I was deeeep in orgasmic haze, and He whispered it softly. But I heard it. And will never forget it ever.)

But it is not His way, and I’m okay with that. I like Him, love Him for what and who He is. . . a Big Ole Mean Dom, with a soft spot in His heart for a mushy, womanish nilla-slut.

I’m such a lucky girl.