One Small Step

It was the first - and last - mistake i made this afternoon. i'm not even certain why i did it, save for the menacing way in which He approached me, and after i had asked to be used before i had to leave to go home. Standing in His living room, with Him bearing down on me, my foot moved of its own accord, half a step backward. My stance never shifted, but it was enough.

"Are you backing away from me, pet? Are you afraid of me?"

Always.

i say it was the last mistake i made because frankly, from that moment on, i did nothing of my own accord. Quick as a cobra He struck, pushing me two feet back until i felt the door that we had just come through, pressing hard against my shoulder blades. my hands were forced above my head until my shoulders screamed from the angle in which they were held. i whimpered softly and He stopped sucking and biting at my neck long enough to ask what was wrong. He let my hands go only to grab a handful of the long straight hairs at the front of my "slave cut" (the back is shorn short where my collar buckles), yanking my face up toward His so He could claim my lips in a rough kiss.

Without any warning at all, He moved toward the bedroom, dragging me by the tight grip He had on my hair. He shoved me forward onto the bed and i think i was panting, even then. My orange sweater was tugged roughly out of the way and for a moment it seemed as if He would fold it with more gentleness than He was showing me at the moment, but instantly His mind changed and He placed it back over my head like a burlap sack. i couldn't believe He was doing this - i felt like the luckiest girl in the world in that instant.

i had only a fleeting glimpse through the orange fabric to warn me as His foot came up and shoved me onto my back. Again He reached for me, tugging my breasts out of the rosy pink bra and slapping each of them roughly, only once. i half expected a beating then - He was definitely in a violent mood - but He entered me after only a brief pause to laugh at how wet i was from all of the rough treatment.

"I do this to remind you what you are..."

"Thank You, Master."

"You're welcome, now shut up and don't talk."

You would have thought He'd just whispered sweet nothings to me, i was so grateful to hear those words. i could see Him through the fabric as He fucked me, each forceful thrust thundering like the clop of a horse's hooves. Never once did He look down at me. i was nothing to Him. And i loved it.

The lesson continued, even after He was finished until He was satisfied that His point had been driven home and time dragged us to have to part, but before the feminists beat my door down and tell me that i'm undoing a century of women's suffrage, let me tell you this: for the first time in my life, i can sit and watch the sweetest, most romantic movies and not envy the heroine the love of the leading man. i can read a love story and not envy what they have together. my Man is as sweet, caring and giving as any on the big screen or novel. And i have something that many traditional relationships cant boast... i know exactly where i fit into His world. i know my place, both in His life and in His heart. He makes sure of it.

~P