Somehow when my boy is sweet to me, looks after me, cares for me, does something incredibly moving… when he wraps me up like that, it highlights our dynamic, and the contrast is part of what splits me wide open, breaks me into little pieces and shines a spotlight on the differential.
When I am predator and he is prey, he becomes small, soft, like a lion suddenly in a kitten’s tiny fuzzy body, he … Continue Reading
I am already crashing up against him on the way home, seeking impact. He sees the aggression before we get inside, he probably saw it building hours before, and fed it quietly all night long… slipping scraps under the table into the hungry maw when I wasn’t looking. We are still giggling and being silly as I push him police-style into the apartment.
“Only cuts and bruises, no permanent damage please!” he declares. He makes … Continue Reading
We are going out, he grabs my coat and holds it open for me.
“Broken wing first!”, he blurts out quickly before I have even moved.
I look at him, “Which is it?”
He smiles, knows I am not kidding, I am hopeless. He nods at my right arm and holds the sleeve coat forward so that I can slip my hurt arm into it first.
I wince when I move it, which makes him … Continue Reading
We are sitting close, touching, stroking, heading home on the subway after an evening out with friends.
“I can’t wait until we get home and do some kissing…”
I shake my head. “No kissing…” I whisper.
He smiles at me, amused and puzzled. “No kissing?!”
I smile back and lean into him. “No.”
“Cuddling?”
“No, when we get home, you are going to stand naked in the corner…”
He laughs, I look at him, he … Continue Reading
He is tied down, face up when I come back to him and all is a blur, a strobe light of glimpses and moments, time is disjointed and I look at the disarray around me and know that I caused it.
Waxing, nipple clamps, biting, facial contortions, cock slapping, tiny holes from the wartenberg wheel, smacking all over, biting biting, shock, ball stretching, a chain in his mouth, metallic kissing, desperate breathing, riding his mouth, … Continue Reading
I tell him to get the paddle. He returns to where I am sitting on the edge of the bed, kneels before me and offers it up to me. I smile at him, he gives me a cheeky look back.
“Spanking, baby…” I announce, unnecessarily.
“But… but… I’ve been a good boy!” he mock-protests, his eyes wide. He is funny.
I cup his face to me and kiss him gently, he leans into it, and … Continue Reading
I try to treat my boy the way I like to be treated… not with the hitting and the hurting (silly!), but with our normal human interactions. I know that will shock some people *shocker!*, but really it shouldn’t and I hope the shocked are in the minority (I suspect so, I know enough of you to know that you all live in the real world…).
I speak to him honestly, I am clear … Continue Reading