The Sadist

He sounds so romantic sometimes doesn't he? And he is. And I really notice it around Valentine's Day. He's so sweet and says such nice things. About how I'm his and he adores me.

He says that he treasures my love and submission. And I know that's true.

He says that he is so glad he found me, that we found each other. I know that's true. We are an awesome fit.

And sometimes the sadist goes further than I want him to. That's the name of the game right? That he gets to choose. That he decides.

And I like that he decides. That I don't control him. That sometimes he is darker than me. And honestly it sucks when I want him to hurt me more than he wants it. Sometimes that happens too.

And sometimes he just goes way past where I want him to stop. Sometimes I know that he's going to hurt me. He sets out to hurt me. On those days that's his thrill. Knowing I want him to stop.

Sometimes I want to say "Please, no more. Please stop." I rarely do. Somehow it makes it worse, makes the pain worse if I ask and he ignores it.

I look the sadist in the eye and know that he won't stop. That his thrill is hurting me. That he knows exactly where I am. He knows I just want it to stop. He knows I am in endurance mode. And that's what he wants. Oh maybe he'd like it better if I was loving it all, licking it up. Often that's what he wants. But sometimes he wants it to be exactly what it is. Pain. Me enduring it for him. Because he wants it. Because he can.

I didn't say stop. I didn't ask him to stop. But he knew. It wasn't what he wanted. So he didn't stop.