He may define “need and want” differently (or more basically) that I…but I’ll tell you that I’m sporting some pretty awesome bruises from his ferocious pinching…in public mind you. We met at a little gift shop that is mid-way between us, and He took that sensitive bit of flesh under my upper arm between His fingers, through my coat, hard enough to bring tears to my eyes…and “escorted” me inside. Sure, it looked like He was being the most considerate of gentlemen, holding my arm as He steered me inside. Only I, and of course He, knew otherwise.
Then at His car, He got my other arm in a biting grip as He talked on his cell to his son. All calm and nonchalant as he carried on this conversation, and there I am, nearly dying to cry out or moan or something and yet I cannot. Because, you know. Phone. Son. Geezuz I was so turned on, hurting so much. He smiles at me, and I see that He’s as into this as I am. Sure, I may crave it more vocally then him, and maybe even more regularly than Him…but He left me in no doubt that hurting me is His pleasure.
And when I showed Him how long my hair was getting, He wraps it in His fist and suddenly I’m looking up at the sky through the lift-back of his car. Tears sting my eyes once more, even as my clit starts banging in harmonic resonance with the throb in my hair follicles.
Today I’m bruised on my arms and belly (where He admonished me firmly that some of that (muffin top–don’t you hate that term?!) had to go…it was simply too tempting, and easy, for Him to assault…) and my heart is singing…