Reverence of The Marks & Symbols of Ownership

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I spoke of Faith. Now…I’ll kneel to Reverence. Our first date. I stood calmly in His bedroom. Still. Waiting. A lioness’ instinctive understanding short-circuited my usual primal sexual aggression. I knew this man before I knew Him. Though desire and need raged through my veins, my lioness lowered her head in acquiescence to a Power she had known before time began and been searching for this entire lifetime. I waited. Utterly defenseless. To see how He would move. To see what He would want of me. To see which direction He would Lead us. He shifted behind me in the dim light. His first touch. A bold unmistakable Claim. With a deliberate slowness that seemed to last eternity, His fingers dug into my biceps as His teeth sank into my tender flesh where neck meets shoulder. My body gave into His strength. My mind let go of logic. My heart and soul gratefully surrendered to His Demand. I will always feel the echoes of the Marks He gave me in that moment. That was only the beginning. With ...
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Flesh Privileges

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Sometimes a bitch just needs to be snatched up. 
A slow harmless caress that gently eases into thought-shattering pain. 
In a heartbeat nothing mattered in my world but where His hand touched me.

No passersbys on their way home from their Manhattan commute.
No dog walkers following their four-legged companions along crowded sidewalks.
No city bike riders feet from His driver's side door.

All that mattered was my surrender to Him and the pain that echoed throughout my body.
I needed His touch and bruising acts of methodical violence more than I needed my next breath.
My world simply felt better suffering under Him.

My masochist woke from her slumber and wept in relief.
My Lioness stirred for the first time in weeks, listening in case He called.
My whore longed for Him to spread her legs and take everything and anything He wanted from her.

My dress crept up my thighs even as slickness drenched them.
My hands clenched and teeth dug into my bottom lip.
I lost count of my quiet whimpers.

No words were necessary.
Though I wonder now what He thought.
As His fingertips stained my flesh and nails raked my soft smooth skin.

This woman?  This bitch?
This pain slut?  This piece of property?
Mine? 

What does this Man thinks when I shamelessly embrace His cruel touch damn near in public without hesitation?
I don't know.
I may never know.

But my body knows and welcomes His every touch.
Soaks it up like rain falling on the desert sand.
And on that Brooklyn street tonight, His pain felt like thunder warning of a coming storm.
~DominaKat

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