The Game


Face against the wall.

He stands behind me, hands grasping my hips.

His torso, the warm and solid presence of Man, pressed against me. His head pressed against mine, his chin hooked over my shoulder.

His voice slips softly like a feathery touch into my ear.

“We’re going to play a new game, nilla.”


Usually, i like games. He’s never played a “game” with me before, but smart cookie that i am, i *know* the cards are already slanted in His favor.

“o-o-o kay, Sir”

It’s not like i had another answer, another choice, right? i hate that my voice is little girl soft, little girl nervous. i bite my lip.

“It’s called left hand, right hand.”   He continues, his voice absolutely mesmerizing me. Soft, honeyed tones. mellifluous.  i shiver. i don’t hear the sadist all that often in Him, but it was clear with whom i was playing this game.

“you get to choose which implement i spank your ass with next, little girl.”

Now i hear the smile in His voice, the thin veil of “nice” that veils His evil intent.

It’s too easy.

Nothing is that fucking easy.

i wait, breathing a bit more rapidly now. My arms are swathed in long black satin gloves, from my fingers to my mid-arm. Sexy. i feel sooo sexy in them. Those black-clad fingers splayed across the wall in front of me, pressing forward as if to do a vertical push-up.

And i feel the insistent presence of His heat against my left side. He softly rubs His beard across my cheek.

“Hmmmmm?” He queries. “Time to choose, nilla. Left hand?” He pauses, waits a beat. “Or right.”

i am past verbal. i wonder if any sound will escape if i try. Slowly, my right hand fingers its way up the wall.

“OOoooooh, good, Right hand!” He laughs.  “What a terrible choice nilla!” and He laughs.

The Sadist has come to play.