Marks

Tonight I'm going to mark your face.

I'm aiming for subtle bruises. Small hematomas, nothing grandiose, just at the corner of your mouth near the jaw. This is precision work, you understand. You're going to have to stay very still, and it's going to take a very long time. It will be a small pain, but over and over and over, until the skin is as red and swollen as I want it to be. Then you'll make love to my clit with your bruised mouth. Giving me pleasure will cause you pain, and make my orgasm that much sweeter. Before I let you sleep, I'll make you count the number of cuts your teeth have left on the inside of your lip.

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What will you tell the people you work with tomorrow? That you got into a fight? I wonder if anyone will think to ask if your opponent was a woman.

Maybe I should leave nail marks so there's no doubt.

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When you leave for work in the morning, I will roll around in bed thinking about that mark. I will masturbate on your pillow before I leave, so that in order to smell what I've left for you when you return, you'll have to press that painful lip into the cloth.

And the best part of all is that for days on end, there will be no hiding my mark of ownership. It will be there on your face for everyone to see, and yet no one will know but you and I.

The Submissive Man's Complaint

Seems I've heard it from dozens of submissive men. I'm sure you've heard it, too.

"Why are all the dominant women wasting themselves on relationships with dominant men?!"

Okay, maybe they're not insensitive enough to use quite those words, but you get the gist of it. And I guess I didn't really understand it either.

Until last night.

Last night I was at a bar, and I began hitting on a guy who caught my attention. How did he catch my attention, you ask? Well, first off, he was hot. Clothes that fit well enough to show off his lean build and the muscles that were clearly not from the gym but from hard physical labor. Sleeves pushed up to show the definition in his arms and the thick calluses on his hands. Physically, he was masculine, which I think is something a lot of submissive men think they don't need to be. I am a big fan of the classically-fit male form and lemme tell you, androgynous, he was not. Beyond that, he was direct and confident and talkative and flirtatious. He was not in any way apologetic or submissive. He made me laugh. And he had the most beautiful and expressive eyes. Once past the initial attraction, I could see in his eyes that he wanted to play, and that he was trouble. I could tell that he wanted to fuck me and make it hurt... and make me like that it hurt. And he knew how to keep me interested.

He taunted me.

Oh, it was infuriating... and it was an absolutely irresistible goad to someone as competitive with men as I am. It is not in my nature to cede control. I wanted to fight him for it, and so I taunted him back. A little personal doubt here. A little scorn there. He couldn't resist it either. Things escalated.

Was it a gamble on my part? Definitely. Maybe I wouldn't win. Maybe he'd overpower me. (But that would be okay too, because I think he really could make me like that it hurt.)

But I could make him beg. And squirm. And curse. And love every fucking minute of it.

Sometimes he'd win and sometimes I'd win. Maybe he'd even win more often than I would. But it would always be a challenge, and it would never be boring.

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There's no happy ending to this particular vignette. (He was looking for a one-night stand, I wasn't. Whatever.) But I thought maybe sharing this will shed some light on that question that seems to torment so many of you.