That’s something Steel says about me; that I’m soft as silk, and strong as steel (he’s an eloquent bitch, I tell you). And it’s probably my favorite thing that any sub has said to describe me, followed closely by one of my exes telling me that my voice was like the purr of a lioness.
I don’t shriek, I don’t yell (Kazander has only ever heard me raise my voice once in six years, and it felt odd, getting that loud), none of that. I stay quiet, even when I’m mad. My ex said my voice made him think of a lioness, quiet and low, but terrifying, a strange and frightening mix between a purr and a growl.
Relentless. That’s another word multiple people have used. All three of my boys are intimately familiar with that trait.
And last night, Steel was sorta-kinda-pleasantly reminded why I never need to raise my voice to effectively get my point across, and why it would be a bad idea to ever piss me off (which made me laugh, when I was in the middle of tormenting him, and he whimpered, “Holy shit, remind me never to piss you off.”)
I spent the day with him yesterday, our first chance to play together since December. And just like every other time we’re together, it’s just natural, neither of us have to force anything, it just flows.
We don’t even have to think about it. We can immediately switch between a subdued, public dynamic (in which he still isn’t allowed to call me by my name, by the way), and the much more intense private one. But even then, it’s just easy being with him.
At one point, we were ordering pizza from a place he liked. He (being an east coast boy) said, “It’s about as close to New York style pizza as you can get here.”
I, being a west coast girl, and not usually a fan of pizza in general, looked at him and said, “Is there a difference between New York style and everything else?”
“Okay Ma’am, we need to rethink this relationship.”
Oh, but fun side note. He suggested we get the tiramasu. I’d never tried it, but oh my gawd, it’s like one of my favorite things ever. Like, ever.
So yay for broadened horizons!
I loved how needy and clingy he was. And how eager. I knew he wanted to break for me, and that he was trying to push himself to that point. Part of me wanted to give him that little extra push he needed, to cross that line, because I know he needs it. And hell, I wanted it, too.
But then, I stopped, and held him back, instead. As much trouble as he sometimes has with feeling needy, and with crashing when I get off the phone or computer, it’ll be so much worse once I’ve broken him.
No, that can’t happen until we’re no longer separated by a country, and can see each other more than twice a year.
When he gets in subspace, he can sometimes be a little on the self-destructive side, bounding ahead toward that line between fun and fucking dangerous. If the one holding his leash isn’t careful, he can run right past that line, and keep going without hesitation.
I won’t let him do that. I have no problem pulling him back and bringing him to heel. So when he expressed his desire to break for me, I pulled him back and wouldn’t let him.
But just because I wouldn’t let him break didn’t mean I couldn’t push him hard, and give him something to remember me by for the next few days.
We started off the afternoon with him naked and collared on the bed, eagerly moaning and whimpering while I alternated between hurting him and caressing him. He was so hungry, so needy. He wrapped his arms around me and held on to me so tightly, begging to kiss me, and gasping when I bit down hard on his tongue.
And he really is so cute when he begs. It almost sounds desperate once he gets going, and it always makes me smile. When he begged to be on his hands and knees for me, to take whatever I wanted to put in him, how could I say no?
He hasn’t had anything inside him since the last time I saw him, so I started slow, just putting a single finger in him and savoring his reaction to finally being penetrated.
And he was so tight. It felt amazing, being in him.
But he’s a slut, meant to be fucked, and his body quickly relaxed enough for me to put a second finger in. And then a third.
The third was painful for him, and the way he whined was so intoxicating. I wanted to make him whine more.
So I pulled out my strapon, a toy he hadn’t been able to take before. I knew he was stretched out enough to take it without harming him or tearing him, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt like a bitch.
And, as Sounder will readily attest to, I’ve been in a bit of a sadistic mood lately.
Yesterday was no different. I wanted to hurt Steel. I’ve wanted to hurt the little masochistic bitch for months, but haven’t been able to. I was going to make up for lost time.
I pushed the dildo into him smoothly, and he whined and whimpered so pretty as I filled him up. I fucked him for a good long while, then just left the dildo in him, pushing him over so he was lying on his back.
I left it in him for awhile, then took it out and replaced it with a small plug designed to put pressure on his prostate. That, I left in him for awhile, while he worshiped my body and fell deeper and deeper into subspace. Somewhere around that point (chronology always gets fuzzy in my head the next day, I’m sure there are sessions I’ve written about with Sounder, where he raises an eyebrow because I’ve written things out of order) is when he expressed his desire to break, and I pulled him back.
I snapped him out of the subspace and gave him a break, right about then is when we ate dinner (I think). Then, I pulled out my trusty prostate massager, put clothespins on his nipples and cock, lied him on his side, and held him close while I gave him a long, thorough fucking.
I wasn’t going to break him, but I knew he needed to feel the surrender that a big part of him tends to fight, no matter how much he may want it. If I wasn’t going to let him break, I would definitely push him to that point of surrender.
For a long time, I did nothing but fuck him, kiss his neck and his ear, and tell him that he’s mine, my toy, and that he’s a good bitch who will take whatever I decide to put in him, whether he wants it or not.
And for a long time, he wanted it. That hunger kept burning, and he whined and begged and squirmed against me. Even once it started hurting, his masochism kicked in and he wanted it, wanted more.
After… Oh I don’t know, 45 minutes? He suddenly started begging for me to fuck him with my strapon again, and that confused me at first, until I realized how much it was hurting.
But no, I didn’t feel like stopping. And he has no safeword. And I wanted to really drive that point home.
I do what I want with him, and he can’t stop me. He doesn’t have that power. And the more I fucked him, the more he gave himself up to that fact, the easier it became for him to handle it.
When I finally stopped, I lied down next to him and he immediately moved closer to me, wrapping his arms around me and nuzzling close, burying his face against my neck. Less than a minute later, he was begging me to fuck him with the strapon again.
I laughed, completely in love with his eagerness. But no, his poor hole was throbbing and hurting and raw, and the size of the strapon wouldn’t be good for him.
When I told him no, he asked for the plug instead. And the way he begged, the way he gazed up at me, I just couldn’t say no. The plug is small, I knew it wouldn’t cause him any harm.
So I put it back in, and then pulled him back into my arms. He went willingly, clinging hard to me and moaning softly.
Really, of all the things I did to him, of all the pain and pleasure and frustration and torment I put him through, the part that always seems to be my favorite is the way he clings to me. I could literally lie there with him, or sit up with him curled up in my lap, for hours.
At one point, I needed to leave the room to get ice or run downstairs or something (I can’t remember which time it was), he didn’t want me to leave (he didn’t want me to leave any of the times I left the room, but there’s one specific time I’m talking about). I stood next to the bed and leaned down to give him a reassuring hug before I left, and the way he hugged me made me never want to leave the bed again, for the rest of my life.
The last time anyone touched me like that was December, the last time I saw him. Granted, I’m not usually an overly touchy-feely person, anyway, and I tend to gravitate toward men (and women) who are the same way. Hell, Steel is that way with everyone else.
Except me. The way he clings to me just makes me melt.
Sure, he’s mine, I own him, he wears my collar, and I greedily take every shred of control over his life that he offers up (and will continue to do so once he’s local and I can push him even harder), but if I’m really being honest with myself, that little slut has me wrapped around his finger.