I am in a mood tonight. It's hard to describe, kind of feisty I guess.
As I walk up to my Dom's door, I start to imagine what the night may have in store. He'll expect me to come in, strip down and assume my presenting position: kneeling on the floor with my hands behind my head, breasts out, waiting for inspection. But you know what? I don't feel like doing that tonight. I don't feel like being the good little submissive and doing every single thing I'm told. I want to be a real person tonight. I want to give him a run for his money, make him work for my submission. Does that make me a bad sub? Maybe, but I really don't give a shit. Not tonight.
I yank open the front door and walk into his living room. The room is dimly lit, only one small light on in the far corner. I can see my mat in the middle of the floor. That's where I'm supposed to go to present myself.
Fuck that! I slam the front door closed then saunter over to the couch, feeling saucy in my tight jeans and form fitting baby tee. I let the 4 inch heal of my strappy sandals add extra swagger to my walk even though there's no one in the room to see it because dammit, I feel like hot shit tonight!
Plopping down on the middle cushion, legs crossed, arms stretched out over the back, swinging my crossed leg furiously, I wait.
I don't have to wait long though. I assume the slammed front door got my Dom's attention. He walks slowly into the living room, coming to stand in front of me with his legs spread shoulder width apart. He crosses his arms over his chest. He tilts his head to the side, his lips quirking up at the corners, one eyebrow raised. As he considers me I can tell he is amused by my little show of defiance. I don't get bratty with him often and when I do, he counters swiftly and with force. Usually he pulls me over his lap and spanks me until I'm on the verge of tears. Then he lets me 'make it up to him' by sucking his cock. Again I say, fuck that! I'm not going down (no pun intended) without a fight.
I look up the length of his six foot frame to his handsome face. I am momentarily distracted by the sex appeal he seems to ooze. His muscular legs are clad in nicely worn jeans, finished with a black leather belt. His strong arms are crossed over a soft gray Polo and his feet are bare. Shaking myself to help me focus, I narrow my eyes and steel myself for his reaction.
In his usual calm voice he asks, "Are you planning on presenting yourself to me properly?"
I sit up a little straighter and lift my chin confidently. In for a penny, in for a pound... "No." I simply say.
"Ok. Would you care to tell me why?" He is curious now, but still disturbingly calm.
"Because I don't FEEL like it." I say just a little too snotty.
Both eyebrows go up. "Really?" He draws the word out slowly. When I nod my head, he laughs with such joy I might almost be fooled into thinking he's in a great mood. Unfortunately, I know better. Yes, I admit, that laugh makes me a little nervous, but it pisses me off at the same time. I'm not in the mood to be laughed at as if I'm an insignificant little bug, easily crushed beneath his boot. Hell no! Tonight I'm a force to be reckoned with!
Strengthening my resolve, I lift my crossed leg, planting the heel of my shoe against his hip and give a little push. With lightening fast reflexes, he grabs my ankle, pulling me forward so that I slump down on the couch with my ass hanging off the cushions. Using both hands, he grabs me by the waist and flips me over onto my stomach, then shoves a hand down in the middle of my back, holding me down. Using his free hand, he smacks my ass, several stinging blows.
I yelp, startled by the suddenness of his movements. The smacks bite a little, but he's not really hurting me. Having my face pushed indignantly into the cushions sparks my rage. I start thrashing wildly, trying to flip over so I'll have better use of my arms. Apparently he wasn't expecting me to fight because I manage to get to my side. He is standing over me with his legs straddling my lower body, so I roll a little more, bumping his right leg and knocking him off balance. He falls to the side with a cuss, landing on his ass on the floor next to me. Surprised that I managed to get him off me, I just stare dumbly at him for a minute.
Quickly recovering, he says, "You little bitch. You wanna play, huh?" He is smiling and I can tell by his tone that he's still amused, maybe even a little excited by my struggling. He doesn't really see me as a challenge, but the look of determination in his eyes tells me he plans to make me pay.
Common sense finally hits me and I decide it might be best to put a little distance between us. On all fours, I start to scramble away, but he must sense my intent because he lunges forward. He grabs a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back and stopping my escape. He throws his whole body weight on my back, pinning me to the floor beneath him.
Pulling my head to the side, he bites my neck then says, "Oh no you don't. You started this little game, now you're going to finish it." He slaps my face then heaves himself up, pulling me up by my hair with him. I struggle to get to my feet, my hands clawing at his fist where it's gripping my hair. He's pulling hard and it's starting to hurt. He slaps both of my hands as his grip on my hair tightens, making me whimper a little.
Pulling me back against his chest, he wraps an arm around my neck, forcing my head back and up. He lets go of my hair and slaps my face again, a little harder this time. Then he grips my chin and turns it slightly towards him, "Are you done playing? Are you ready to present yourself properly?"
He may have me at a disadvantage, but I'm not done yet. When I don't answer right away, he tightens his arm around my neck, putting pressure on my throat and making me gasp for breath. He raises his arm putting even more pressure on my neck which makes me have to stand up on tip toes to relieve a little of the pressure. I clutch at his arm, fighting for air, but he tightens his grip more.
Dropping his voice about an octave, making it more menacing, he says, "I said, are you done playing?" He loosens his hold on my neck so I can speak. I gasp for a much needed breath. The fresh oxygen fuels the fire of my rage. I'm mad at myself for letting him get the upper hand so quickly and mad at him for not giving me a sporting chance. We both know he's stronger, but it would be nice to at least think I might win once in a while.
I need him to loosen his hold more or better yet, let go, so I can make another attempt at escape. So I try to relax my body, make it look like I'm giving up. I slowly nod my head, not fighting him anymore.
To my surprise, he doesn't loosen his grip. He drags me backwards and throws me face down on the floor with him on top of me. The force of hitting the floor knocks the wind out of me, leaving me speechless and dazed for a moment. In that moment he grabs my arms and wrenches them up behind my back, holding them with one of this hands. I squeak in protest at this new pain.
As my breath comes back to me, I try to reason with him. "Daddy, what are you doing? I said I was done playing. I'll be good."
He barks out a laugh. "Yeah right! I know you better than that, sweetheart." He shifts his body off me, leaving one leg over mine and keeping his hold on my arms. He uses his free hand to slap my ass several more times, very hard. I scream as the sting builds up, struggling to free my hands so I can cover my ass.
