It was a short meet, just a bit over 30 minutes. I hate to use the word, but I was *desperate* to see Him. It had been two weeks, after all. We talked every day, but it isn’t really the same, is it?
I brought Him a treat, which He took and ate and played silly about…and then He started.
It doesn’t sound like much, does it? A pinch.
“Big fucking deal.” “Quit whining nilla…”
oh, I hear you guys, giggling.
“Ha! that nilla calls herself a pain slut yet she wimps out over a few pinches?”
It is dozens and dozens of pinches. Fierce, mean biting grabs of my tender flesh. I drive home with my arms throbbing. Absolutely *throbbing*. I know there are bruises already, it isn’t possible, with how hard He pinches, for there not to be. And there were some, at first.
And then they grew, and grew…and some bloomed where I didn’t even realize He’d gotten me. Pinching during tickles, for instance. Pain, pleasure (tho tickling is its own kind of torture…), mixed until I was heady with it, lost in it. Under my arms, around my tits, on my belly. This is my left arm, Monday night.
This morning I woke up, rolled out of bed, looked in the mirror. And blinked.
I look kind of like I lost a prizefight…bruises all over me. And some of them are very tender. Verrrah tender.
I remember the ones on my belly happening.
I had leaned into Him, holding His hands by the wrists, pushing them away from me and sneaking a kiss on Him, then dancing back before He could ‘get’ me.
He gave me that steely look that drives a hot shaft of lust straight up my pussy.
“Come here, nilla. Pay for that kiss.”
And He holds His hands out to the side, fingers poised.
Oh. I don’t wanna, I think in my head. I smile nervously, and He repeats the order, His voice a low, husky growl.
“Pay for that kiss.”
I took a deep breath and stepped into His space. His fingers pinch so hard, so fucking hard. Suddenly I’m up on my tiptoes, a ballerina in pink sneakers, and He is laughing as He pinches the *fuck* out of my belly.
I’m whimpering and crying a little, and suddenly it’s done and He’s tickling the fuck out of me, and my head is on His shoulder and it’s sweet, and torture, and just so fucking good.
I love moments like this. Marks to wear all week, tiding me through a busy 7 days until I see Him again next week. Still several weeks until we get together…..
….so for now, I’ll gladly pay in kisses of pain, just to be with Him.