that look


I kinda got the subby thing and the teasing but never saw what people saw in spanking, to me it was like a foot fetish.

Out of the mouths of babes. Or rather, out of the mouths of ‘nillas. This was what Sir thought of spanking when we got together two and a half years ago. Oh, how times have changed – just ask my tender arse. It’s interesting, really, to see how he has grown into his dominance. At first it was slow, and careful. Then it was enthusiastic, but cautious. Now? Now it is wanton. And oh so sexy.

The past few months have seen a massive leap forward in our play. Where before we were chugging along quite nicely thank you, we’re now speeding along at an exhilarating pace. He doesn’t hold back any longer, or worry about hurting me. He says he doesn’t care about my pleasure – which perversely is thrilling to me. He uses me, truly uses me, in a way that never happened before.

I don’t know what changed, but I like it. I like the bruises and the bites, the hand around my throat when we kiss, the rough gropes and the hissed profanities. I especially like that he now refers to himself as a sadist. And even more, the look in his eyes that shows me that he’s right.

He gets this look, you see. It’s in the eyes, and a slant of the mouth. One that shows the cogs turning in his head, plans being brewed for me for later, or perhaps a fond memory of me, whimpering and desperate underneath him. I like to think his cock jumps too, at those moments.

Until recently, that look was like a rare jewel. I treasured seeing it because it was quite rare – although we played hard and played often, it wasn’t every time that his Dom brain engaged. Life was distracting him, worry and stress getting in the way. But now, that look is frequent, and it no longer delights me. That look makes my stomach twist and my knickers flood. It makes me hot in the face, giggly and nervous. Because I know that, finally, that look means he wants something… and that something is me, tortured.


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