Sep 022014
 

I’ve noticed a trend in my boy. It’s one I don’t particularly like. He has a problem saying no. He generally doesn’t care if people are rude to him either. It gets me bristly. ONLY I have the right to boss my boy around, other people have to treat him like a person. He’s not their property, he’s MINE. He also gives very little feedback of what’s being done to him. I’ve started a system where every time a blow is particularly painful he will say “thank you ma’am”, and to enforce it, if I see that something is hurting I’ll hit him until he DOES say what he’s supposed to. It’s worked pretty well.

 

So far I’ve spanked him with a variety of things, introduced him to the horrors of hairbrush meeting inner thigh, and light to moderate flogging. We’ve been exploring with other things and have found he likes choking, but not during sex because he loses his erection. He likes being slapped, the more the merrier. He likes being scratched and gets turned on by marks left.

 

Last night as we’re lying in bed a goodnight kiss turned a bit more intense, I felt his hand move to stroke himself, and I started warming up to the idea. I deepened the kiss and started to scratch his chest, stomach, and side. Everything ramps up. I gradually increase the pressure of my nails and his mouth becomes voracious. I feel him reaching ever closer to the peak and dig in for all I’m worth to his side.

 

He moans and whimpers. My temperature rises. He bites my cheek, my neck. The whimpers increase. Suddenly though, I don’t feel his arm moving. I know he hasn’t cum. I lean back and stroke his cheek. Something is off.

 

It turns out, my grabbing a nice hunk of him with my nails hurt. Not the good hurt fun times, but the ouchy-no-stroky kind. He didn’t say anything. Not a peep. His in distress moans and his happy ones are identical. When I bring up the biting he told me it was “panic biting”…

 

Yup. Panic biting.

 

I feel like an ass. I’m also frustrated. I feel like an asshole because he MADE me feel like an asshole.

 

Then I compound my asshole-iness by giving a lecture on how I need him to TALK to me, to TELL me what’s working and what’s not. Don’t sit there and let me hurt you unendingly and just take it. Even if it’s an experiment past a soft limit, you at least need to let me know what that limit is so that way I’m aware and in control of crossing it or not.

 

Despite me knowing that the blame for this one ultimately doesn’t land on me, it doesn’t stop me from feeling bad… Nailed it!

 

 

Wicked Wednesday
Silence isn’t always golden.