The Dom with the Heart-on His Pants…

Hee. i said it.

Heart. On.

not hard-on.

We were in Starbucks, and nilla was feeling frisky, bold, playful. i was happy to have time with Him, as His life as well as mine, is hectic in October.

And gosh it’s been fucking forever since we had playtime. September. The 18th of September. And we won’t have time until after Thanksgiving.

Huge pitiful sigh.

So, these breaks are helping us both through.

He’s a tough guy. Military, Special Forces, deadly force, all that jazz. Scary, yet compelling stuff. His contained power draws me in like a fly to honey. He is so *amazingly* strong. He can throw me around a room like…like i was… a feather duster, instead of the short, round, woman i am.

He is sweet (He’ll deny that), and very silly. Strict with the rules i must obey. Firm.  The Sadist is beginning to show more and more in our vanilla encounters. Remember i rarely see it, as i’m blindfolded during our encounters…

And way back, when we came )*(  that close to breaking up in January, and got back together, we were very, very mushy with one another.

He wrote me poetry.

He sent me song links.

i wrote Him love notes.  Shared my favorite love songs.

Because we found out that we truly do love one another,  soul-deep. Over time, that squishy-huggy stuff, rather than being thrown by the wayside, has interwoven all that we do.

But being the naughty little sub that i am, tend to push the envelope from time to time.

That’s where the hearts come in.

i was trolling a craft store and found these sweet heart stickers. And i knew exactly what i was going to do with them.

A few weeks ago, in His car, i palmed the first one,  and while kissing Him, slipped it just under His shirt at the base of His throat. It took him a few minutes to feel it, to grok that i’d counted coup on Him.

And i giggled about it for a long while. Well, until He …remonstrated me, delightfully, i should add.

The hearts have been a little “war” between us. Silent, “deadly” in intent. And so fucking funnah.

Sunday night, i counted coup again, as we shut down Starbucks and headed outside for a little kissy-huggy farewell before parting ways. i slid my little hand into His back pocket, and we teased and played and i got pinched, and that whole scene over the carseat that i spoke of a few days ago.

Later that night, at home, i got the text.

And Monday night got the verbal story.

He was taking off His jeans, hanging them over the hanger. He pulled the thick, leather belt from the loops. And found my ‘gift’…a pair of hearts, one over each pocket.

“That FUCKING  slut,” He exclaimed, loudly enough that His son called from 4 rooms away “You callin’ me, Dad?”….


When i got the text, i had to call, but He didn’t/wouldn’t/couldn’t answer. Instead, through my giggles, i admonished Him to not be so much of a “Heart-Ass” (i know, the temerity, right?!) and then burst into much hysterical laughter.

It just rolled outta me…guffaws, and gales of laughter.

He has told me that He’s saved that little bout of laughs.

“For an appropriate time, slut. When it will really be appreciated.”

uh…rewind, anyone?