Saturday, November 17, 2012

My butt hurts. My heart doesn't.

He says it.
Over and over.

Without the words, true, but as clearly as if he were shouting it from the top of the Washington Monument. Which is still closed for repairs of damage suffered in an unlikely earthquake a while back.

Like us.
That there is an us.
A very unlikely earthquake.

So many unlikely things...

Today, this man who declares he doesn't believe in aftercare, this man was lying next to me, luxuriating in the aftermath of his orgasm. The last few weeks have been very intense, it's been 2 weeks since we were together and he has made many wordless avowals for longer than that. So he's lying there, looking up at me, recovering, and I ask if he's OK, and he says yes - and then he asks if I'm OK. Which he never does. But it was very intense, "even for us," he says, and he has learned that he doesn't always realize if it has been too much for me, and now he has taken to worrying about that, to put it in the box of things he should be aware of as he tries to protect me from himself.

From the beast.

He said he took special steps yesterday to protect me. He wouldn't say what, but I suspect he went and unleashed some of his sadistic desire on another of the Others. To release the tension. There was still some left for me today - and why shouldn't there be? It's not just that he wants to cause pain. He wants to hurt me.

And I wanted him to hurt me.

Which he did.

He spanked me a lot.
Just with his hand.
But hard.
And often.
At various times during his 2 hours visit.
Harder and harder.
And the longer he was here
the harder he spanked me
and the less I could feel it.

Now I feel it.
I'm getting cold.
Some of the endorphins must be wearing off.
Not all of them.
I'm still very floaty.
But enough to allow my butt to hurt.

And it does really hurt.
I wonder if his hand hurts, too?

I'm happy that my butt hurts.

My pussy hurts, too.
From all the fucking.
Beautiful, beautiful fucking.

Some of it was fucking.
And some was making love.
The expression on his face.
That smile...

I'm very happy.
We were both very happy.
And very, very intimate.

He doesn't pretend any more.
That, he acknowledged.
He didn't say those other words.
But he did say he doesn't pretend any more.
And that's about as close as you can get.

And the words?
They could never say as much
as the smile
on his lips
and in his eyes.

But damn it.
My butt sure hurts!

Thank you, Daddy...


littleone said...

time for me to stop lurking and say how much I enjoy you adentures.
Thanks for allowing me to lurk for so long.

nbs said...

What wonderful changes for both of you. I'm so glad.

Malcolm said...

Such readable stuff you write, oatmeal girl. I like the pictures, too.
Quiet Car link doesn't work for me.

dancingbarez said...

This slaves like your blog as well, this was great to read.