Some Dom

FOREPLAY:

My hot, curvy, younger BFF and I have the same pet peeve about men: “Stop the mind-fucking. If all you want to do is Hit It-SAY SO! I will let you know my answer. No need for pseudo got game. Don’t mess with my mind. Don't tell me how sweet and unique I am. Don’t bother to play me like you ever planned to give a damn, because, honestly- there are much easier ways to get in my pants."

We are grown ass women.

First off, I know exactly how unique and beautiful I am. Secondly, go school yourself on the late eighties song by Naughty by Nature and have the balls (and dignity) to say you down wit OPP and I, in turn will clearly tell you what time it is, or is not. There will be no mixed signals.

TEXT Male: Would you like to go on a date with me?

TEXT Female: That would be nice.

***Unrequited

TEXT Male: Was gonna send you a dic pic, but seems like that’s a big no no with you.

TEXT Female: Yeah?

***Unrequited, ghosts for a week.

(Once I watched a woman cry and scream that she’d much rather be punched or slapped in the face than go through the head games. She said that bruises on the outside heal, leaving her in a lot less pain...)

TEXT Male: Maybe soon we be dating. Maybe soon marriage.

TEXT Female: Huh

PART ONE:

“You are so unique and intelligent,” she began her avow to him, “I already trust you and really want you to feel deeply for me, to know that you can always come to me about anything that you are going through. I know you won’t talk about yourself very much, that you don’t enjoy the spotlight, but I need you to know you always can. I need in my heart to be that person for you.” Yes, she couldn’t have had a better rap to him if she even had meant to be rapping at all. And in her off-kilter mind somewhere she knew herself to be pleading, begging really, for him to need her.

Love me.

Fall for me immediately.

Don’t ghost.

Read between the lines of my uttered words that I am trying so hard to be fall in love with you, I want to believe that I already am, despite my own better judgment.

However, she is no longer a processor of a heart.

To prove that, as if to herself, she next did a heinous thing.

She treated him as subhuman. She abused his trust in her, not even the personal trust that she had just been presenting, but also the kind of trust one may have for humanity in full. She chose to threaten his young life exactly and knowingly by taking him into her darkness. A blatant bitch move, of all bitch moves.

***

She who had been beaten, sworn at in tirades of anger, and hurt in her soul. She turned that disregard for her own being into a soulless act that disregarded his humanity in turn. While, she bares the weight of knowing that the whole world hates her, she persecuted the only man who shown her true kindness or even real attention in years. She did so in a single step. She did so without thought. This was simply her learned gut response, to hurt him before he had a chance to hurt her. Never to believe he was hers.

WHAT THE FUCK.

Automatically, she hid behind the what the fuck is wrong with this world shrug of cultist ideology.

But, "WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH HER?!"

No excuse. No respect. Not a decent human. She had wriggled and turned her demon body to him, the corruption from within her already seeping down her thighs with all her thoughts.

“I am such sweet and wonderful woman. I am nice. Why doesn’t any man ever love or want me? They always leave. It is can’t be me. It is never my fault.” Her false mantra. How many times she has cried that into her own face’s reflection in the mirror all alone, so desperate to believe if for even a second in herself? Does that matter? We are all alone.

***

Part Two: The Lust, She Creates Her Shame Game

Convincing herself that she had never felt like this before, never ever. More words. More lies she never meant to tell.

The Freak. The Fat One. The Ugly One. The Reject.

She secretly had been longing to find true beauty in a man for so long, ashamed by her neediness, her wanton thoughts. She wanted a man others wanted just to destroy him. She alone would be his curse.

HE COULD HAVE CHOSEN TO STAB HER TO DEATH AFTERWARDS.

Instead, he immediately knew that his life is more valuable than her mess. He is the one who is True. He is responsible. He ran. Rightly, he chose to preserve what was left. There had been an innocence about him even as he had fucked her, but ran away. It had been like he cared about her even in this, uttering kind words at first, ones that did not match what she had done to him, ones that were not what she deserved. She cried as if somehow, he was expected to validate her feelings. From her came nothing more than desperation, more crying, more wordy manipulation.

The most precious innocent had not been in the room when the sick gown woman had made her decision.

He ran to save his little girl. Suddenly, he had a family, someone else to think about in his life. Only his true baby girl did he allow to rely on him. Much later, his own thinking on this would re-surface as detrimental to him.

***

PART THREE: The Denial

Almost immediately she longed to explain her pain to him. Her Pain. But, the is no humane justification. The only way for her to live without reprisal is to remain in her rotting life, alone.

Her fault. Like every time.

She had to do it, all while she dared to Hope of Love from a man. Historically it has always ended this way, her alone with her evilness, wallowing in her own disgust. This microcosmic one-nighter of a relationship condensed this time between them was the only part unique- with Joe, she managed to scare him off in a mere few hours. Half a quickie with her could do that to a man.

Joe had obviously been The One.

It had been he who saw something in her that was attractive in heart and mind. She had felt akin to his soul, his eyes, his artistic yet down to earth nature. He was genuine.

So, what’s was a crazy-ass bitch who never wanted to be a dyke, to do? Fuck him and fuck up his life. Do it real well.

Insane with greed and lust and prior persecution, she waged all the war inside her against the world of her sexuality versus wanting this man so badly to be inside her and her world, this one pure of heart, chill, and with integrity about himself.

Waving her pale ass in the air, she hates herself for doing so badly at the same time it's obvious.

It’s a seek Love and Destroy Mission.

She danced automatically as if hypnotized by her own desire, hoping to hypnotize him in turn, that he see all her ugly and not turn his head away. She had become so immediately desperate about him, desperate on every level. And, she the robot, knew just what to do to distract him, just which body parts to shake at him, in order to destroy her own sense of happiness, to repeat her own invalidation, failures with a man, and reinforcement her own sense of chronic rejection.

“Jesus,” she had even called out to him in her bed. That had come involuntary from her lips, as if symbolically.

Joe alone could absolve her with his touch.

Joe can make her pain go away by causing her more his way.

She so wanted him to own her, to instruct her, to figure it all out for her and tell her what to do about her life, the life that she wished with all her might just to turn over in full to him.

So beyond ill-fated. By hesitating, she blew her one chance.

***

The best parts of her had also planned to come to and an understanding between them to spend more and more time together over time. She really had wanted for he and she to add goodness to the world by being together, forging a long-term friendship, and holding hands throughout the tricky shadows of the world as one.

She saw Beautiful Lover-Angels growing and nurturing each other.

Upon his touch, she also saw stars.

There was too- that thing he did with his thumb.

***

PART FOUR: Who's Ghosting Whom

So, she wakes up every day without him, empty and alone. There is no longer the caress of his mind, propped up against hers. She alone has sealed her fate.

“I don’t deserve you. I never deserved you!” She does not even deserve pity as she cries.

This ignorant crash-course attack of a love affair. All because she really thinks so little of herself. All because he wouldn't play along properly.

She has never had a place in this fucked up world where she wasn’t pretending to be someone else. This time she had earnestly tried to go to the ball dressed up as herself. Naked, she had beckoned him to her, reached for him, grabbing him closer to her heart, her mind, her cunt as if with or without words she could ever promise him that she could be beautiful and true.

The horror on his face.

In direct words he promised still to call her.

She forced herself against all that is within her, to spit out the word goodbye.

Hell, if only she had been able to admit her own reasons for self-loathing, her own shame.

Instead, she had offered up the foulness of her most intimate space, hopelessly and as if silently knowing, knowing, knowing she is unlove-able. Knowing she is broken inside.

It was not wrong to want to be loved.

It was horribly wrong to try to kill him.

***

There is only a terrible mess of confusion and torture left inside her now. If only he knew that her “goodbye” was meant as a last-ditch decency, a way to set him free after she had abused him. A way to save a shred of face, out in the cold with her clothes back on, in her nice little neighborhood where everything with everyone else inside those walls was always supposed to be a-okay.

Her own angel-dream daydreams had always ended with him sucking on her breasts and her looking down to see his gorgeous face there, so near to her. Such amazing lips. His youth, his tight-bodied vigor, his fairness, his kind tenor tone, his eyes, his words, his ways. She wanted to hold him more. She wanted to take care of him long-term and offer him something he could not have with anyone else in the world.

Lay you head upon my chest.

Trust me.

You can be all male roles to me in this manner.

Believe in us, our Beauty together.

(There would have been naysayers anyway.)

She may never had deserved his sexual favor, but she had been clear of conscious and in love, ready to devote to him. She had hinted. He had said he couldn’t help her feelings, that he was not able or willing to let himself be with her. If there had been anything left inside her which was still decent and pure, sweet and shy, it was those moments right before, as they had sat together and spoken. She wanted him in her life. She wanted to nurture him, to feed him, to grow together…

She lied for one night.

It was devastating.

It forced him away, appalled.

She traded honor for lust, the potential for real love to get freaked.

The End.

Except that it wasn't. (Things got even more mixed up, messy.)

***

Part Four: The Resulting Square Off

"There are things you will need to change for me for us to be friends again."

TEXT Male: Do you know what a Dominant and submissive is?

TEXTER Female: Um...

Soon, he finally began cutting to the chase, sounding not at all like his former self, the one that had inspired her love and purposeful betrayal. He had a million rules. He laid out specifics, parameters, like a contract per month. (Evidence that he has done this before.) His texts quickly began to sound like two completely different men. She was not sure any more which man was the one that had so turned her on.

TEXT Make: "R U sure, sure, because U can't quit for a month.(for some reason.")

TEXT Female:“Oh yes, please, Sir.”

During their first time under the new roles and rules, he told her to touch herself and use her own toys. She was ready in red heels and a totally lace crotchless bodysuit . She of course, complied. She went at this easy task like an over-achiever. She did things with her two-headed dildo, the one he seemed most interested in, the one he had noted was cute for “both holes.” She didn’t cum. She wasn't sure if she was allowed to. She apologized for either, just in case. In the end, she was not sure if she passed the initial pilot.

TEXT Male: “Lick the dildo. Smack your ass. Groan and say, Daddy. You have four hours to get ready and be ready, or you will get a strike against you. Cum this time and do it as quick.”

She wore sheer pink vintage with lace, long hair in a wig with pink yarn ponytails, nude knee stockings, and kept her buckle role play babydoll heels on the whole time. She crawled, gyrated, smacked her own big white ass backward and forward. She rubbed it and used her black dildo. Thong on and thong off. She did and said everything just like she was supposed to do. Will he believe that she came this time? It wasn’t really in the pic on purpose even though she'd resorted to her little purple neon lighted clit vibe. It became sore in ways she was not used, but for all her performance, it was as if he was not present.

And, that went on for a few rounds, nothing outstanding.

Then, abruptly one day- chit chat. He asked about work, her day.

TEXT Male: Do you want to talk?

TEXT Female: Am I allowed, Sir?

He seemed even more dumb, unsure whenever it was not about his orders. She kept it brief even though it was tempting to get sucked into a belief system. She broke off the banter herself, the possibility for mind-fuck. She vaguely and passively as possible told him no, that she didn't need a friend in him, she felt she'd lost that in the signing of the contract.

TEXT Male: I’ll always be your friend, but now I'm your boss. I promise I'll never mix the two. (That statement was his dumbest move. It didn't play to her anger, it didn't play to her needs.)

TEXT Female: K

A huge part of her as a sub just wasn’t happening.

After that last session, she quit him.

She got bored.

It had just amounted to typical say Daddy shit this and unimaginative talk about your pussy that.

TEXT Male: Wym? Quit?

TEXT Female: You do not get it. I am not a video whore. I am more like a real whore.

*Unrequited. (It wasn't even worth it to her to try and explain.)

In her mind she screamed out, "You was never going to show up and fuck me again, not like that first time! He was never planning to shame her into climax. He really thought he could just sit home on his ass and dictate without providing her with the ultimate prize for her efforts. He had completed missed the other half of the dynamic- the why she was so willing to please, to do what she did for him, to be graced with that tiny bit of his affections.

***

Reduced instead to erotic literature, she even read up in a porn novel about it too- that any really adept sub does anything and everything to please her Dom, and at his command, but that to be any good she must serve out of some space of love from within her. To tap that capacity of surrender she believes in him- in his fragrant masculinity and fire.

Just when she had felt herself falling in love with him, hoping against rationality that he wanted her in such this special way, unique to others that he would stay, she had dared to believe in Joe if just for one day as this truly warm, smart, and independent man of men. After trying to seduce him in normal ways once, she now felt pivotal reasoning take effect within her mind and thighs. No shame. No guilt. Those emotions are done.

But, this sub thing was also about much more than feelings that she owed him. At least for her. That alone would be too simple of an excuse for to have left of her own accord, which was simple disappointment. He was not rude. He was not mean. He was not even firm in speech except when he did not sound like himself at all, but most of all he was not loving or hold their dynamic in at least situational high regard. He could easily replace her, that was one hot thing, but her knowing that he was either laughing or dismissive inside, well, that she could not bare for long.

The need to please runs so much deeper within her. Finally she is in a stage in her life where she wanted a man to indeed be a man. She had needed to make his thick thrusting cock cum. She wanted to be objectified. All she could think about during their brief interludes was his cock.

"Bend me over, twist in me, go deep, go hard, oh and be a good person too," her fantasies admittedly had layers to them. They were buried deep within her and now he alone could reach in and pull them out of her, make her whimper in need for him.

So, she sighed again, yielding to this man had been degrading, but not nearly degrading enough. Specifically, fucking for Joe had not been authentic, so it had not really turned her on.

Why oh why then had he bothered to banter and say they were still some kind of friends?

If he couldn't mix the sex boss and neediness properly, her stomach would begin to turn.

So, she quit.

TEXT Female: I do not love you anymore. It’s crazy what you could have had.

TEXT Male: I wish we could have been more.

(He should have responded outraged, insulted, debased her in words to dare this; more evidence of their misfit.;

(More like what?! You weren't smart enough to mind fuck me. If that was your attempt at kindness or telling me what you think I wanted or needed to hear, fuck off, marriage? Really? That did nothing for me. You say that you will never confuse the two, "But I want to feel like I don't even exist without you, not that you don't really exist. Making any random, pitiful usual girl-needs conversation, well that just under-minded me. I want to be depersonalized, not asked how the rest of my dumb day went. Honestly, it's you who needs to step up your rapatoire...," she would have spoken.

TEXT Female: Bye-bye, "Sir."