I like to feel His hands upon me, so true. I like too, knowing that–despite all the vanilla I am currently submerged in–that I am still His dark and nasty slut. I like to be fucked, I like to be controlled, I like to be hurt. Hit me, make me cry, make me whimper, make me wish it were over–at least until those endorphin’s make me fly, until subspace snatches me up and sends me to the far reaches of the galaxy.
But it has been a long, long while since that kind of play has happened, at least upon my tender flesh. And it will be no small amount of time until it happens again. I feel some sadness about that, to be sure. But to keep us (and help remind me when I’m feeling down and blue and wanton and dis) connected, He will set up a challenge or a goal to keep me focused on what is important between us, Domination, and submission. Obedience and the fact that what is mine–is really his.
I’ve mentioned before that he is a sports guy. Likes *every* fucking sport there is, practically. I’m mostly a football girl. But hockey is big just now, and the Bruins are playing those big bad guys from up north. Yup. Montreal and Boston are going at it, two-fisted. Hockey is one of Master’s favorites. (That’s what He says about every sports season, actually!)
He has devised a system of rewards and punishments based on how well the Bruins play against their opposing teams. Doesn’t matter if it’s “fair” or not..it’s His game, His rules.
I’m just the poor lil slut suffering when the B’s lose, as they did in spectacular fashion Tuesday evening. Last night I had to bear the first half of the punishment—a half-o for every goal the Canadians get if they win.
Didn’t they score 4, those mofo’s??
Four fucking half-O’s, and HE determines when and how many I “pay” up front.
Last night, it was 2. Two half 0’s, 3 minutes apart. Sound like labor pains, right? Trust me, it was quite laborious and very frustrating. And today is Znn (as I write this) so there is no chance for release, just an unmitigated urgent need to fuck something. Some one. Anything. Geeze.
Now, there is another game tonight. If the Bruins pull off a win, I get a full-on orgasm for each goal that they score. I can buy off any remaining half 0’s with those “O” points. (confused yet? I was!) Which could leave me with zero o’s after a win, but no half o’s either. Sheesh. That’s almost as bad, really.
Which is, of course, the point.
He can make me suffer from afar–because He can.
Because He likes it.
Because it pleases Him.
Even if He can’t bear witness to the agony of those fucking half-o’s…oh, and it’s a terrible sort of agony, to stop at the last second and lay there in denial and want…
…He still gets pleasure from the imagery.
And even from afar–
it pleases me, to please Him.