Do you remember, Sir? That night, you became my Dom and I was terrified to disappoint you.
Maybe it was that third drink that made me tremble?
Or maybe it was the third time you slapped the left side of my face to command my full attention… or when you pinched me countless times really hard behind the walled art structure at the museum?
I didn’t know that was going to happen. I didn’t realize we were going to play in public. Was this a part of your assessment of me? You would never say.
We had never even played privately… but I trusted you to know what was right for us. I submitted to the process — submission.
You liked causing me pain. I liked having a new experience with you, although my threshold was much lower than either of us expected… and I cried.
Yes, Sir, I cried and my tears ignited a flame in you.
The emotional part was familiar, but the physical impact on my body— which hadn’t really been touched in months—was something that I hadn’t prepared for… and yet it seemed so vital to my submission.
I watched you closely, Sir. I saw the intensity of your gaze, the resolve in your jawline, the strength in your shoulders, and the power of your hands.
Yes, Sir, your hands… wrapped firmly around my neck. Powerful. Power-filled, you had my complete unyielding attention and I dare not look away.
“I feel your pulse,” you whispered darkly in my ear, while squeezing at my throat and my nipples ached because they remembered…
We agreed to exchange my emotional hurt for the physical pain your love promised.
“Do you enjoy hurting me?” I wondered out loud.
“I am a Sadist,” you replied.
Then, your hands, those same powerful hands, Sir, grabbed my hair and slapped my ass— hard, then harder, and even harder still!
And against the heat of your palm, tears blinked through once again, submission.
“Good girl,” you encouraged and your tender words did soothe, granting me a short reprieve.
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