“Ooh looks like you have a little tiny bruise here,” I said, touching an area of slightly discolored skin on Hando‘s shoulder about the size of a dime.
That night, I met him in a dark parking lot behind a breakfast restaurant. As we stood making out between our parked cars, I yanked the neck of his shirt aside looking for the mark I’d made.
“It’s already fading,” he said.
“I can fix that.”
“I bet that you can.”
“Oh I know that I can.”
“You should.”
“It will hurt,” I said, again asking permission without asking.
He moaned in the way that already drove me crazy even though we’d only been seeing each other an impossibly short time. “I know.”
I pulled back the neck of his shirt again and kissed the bruised spot gently. “You have to ask for it,” I whispered against his skin.
“Please hurt me,” he whispered.
And then I did.
“It’s still stinging,” he said a few minutes later.
“Good,” I said. My inner sadist was happy.
“I usually hate it when someone leaves a mark on me. I don’t know, why but with you I kind of like it.”
“I know why,” I said. And then I kissed him hard.
hot! sounds like the start of a femdom fiction story- maybe Mistress Akasha will be interested? he is a lucky subbie in any event :) thanks – You are always such fun to read. take care always…
Thanks Jamie! I think I'll stick to non-fiction. Perhaps I'll have more to write about with him.