Kneeling before Him...



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Friday, January 28, 2005

For the most part, I am an intelligent woman. I am an adult. I am capable of making sensible decisions that clearly improve the quality of my life. I have a lot of tolerance. I can easily overlook stupidity from people. I can forgive thoughtlessness. I can shut my mouth and walk away from overly opinionated people without feeling the need to get into a fight even if I feel I am right. I am very good at avoiding conflict and as Mac often puts it, arguing with me is like being attacked by a slaughtered lamb. I try to remain clear, calm and concise.

Unless I happen to be ovulating.

At that particular time of the month I am very likely to want to rip off your arrogant-ass head and use it to beat your body to a bloody pulp. I can't stand frauds. I can't handle weaknesses. I become so very frustrated by everything and everyone. Stupidity angers me. Thoughtlessness sends me into a rage and you had better bloody listen to me because everything you say and do, everything you believe is wrong. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?

Now you would think, being that I am an intelligent woman, that I would understand that it is hormonal and that would give me some control over my attitude and my temper and if you do think that, then you are sadly mistaken. I am completely out of control. I know why, I understand it, but I just don't give enough of a damn to let it stop me from doing what I want to do. I am too frustrated to care and too ready to fight to know when it is a good idea to shut up. Now you would also think, being that I am an intelligent woman capable of sensible decisions, that I would realise after all this time, that it is never a good idea to try and dominate Mac. I mean we have been together for two and a bit years, I have known Him forever and never once have I come off best. He always wins. He always seizes control and perhaps that is really what I want anyway. (Perhaps. Rolls eyes.)

So last night when Mac got home from the office, I was in a mood. I had been stomping around and throwing things all day. Nothing had gotten done fast enough or correctly because I wanted everything finished before I had started it. I swore at the computer, I swore at the canvas, I swore at the palette with all the wrong colours on it and I swore at Pickle as I tried to wash the green paint out of his fur. (Why is Pickle the only one that wants to help me paint?) I swear a lot when there is no one else around. I had tried to meditate, to clear my mind and release my frustrations but found that my mind kept wondering off to thoughts of being gang raped by a group of rough men with exceptionally large uh, um, biceps and that didn't help my frustration at all. I tried self-relief with thoughts of Brad Pitt's Achilles, Russel Crowe's Gladiator and an ex of mine that only used me for sex. I had even managed an orgasm or five and still my mood could be described as somewhat bad.

So Mac came home and I was standing in the hall, hands clenched by my side. If I had been thinking clearly, or even thinking at all, I would have used seduction to get what I wanted, but obviously I wasn't in a seducing frame of mind.

"Fuck me." I said and it wasn't so much a question as a demand.
"Sarah, we really have to do something about you not being able to tell me what you want." He chuckled.
"Fuck me now." I ordered. I was not about to muck around with Him.

Of course Mac just walked straight past me to the liquor cabinet and poured Himself a large JD over ice. I was still standing in the hallway. I had only turned to watch.

"You seem to be a little tense." He said as He took a sip of His drink. He was looking at me over the top of the glass. My hands were still clenched into fists at my side, my jaw rigidly set. "Want to talk about it?"
"No." I answered. "I want to fuck."
"Well," He said calmly, "I am going to have this drink and watch some television and we can discuss this further after dinner. If I feel like it."

Now an intelligent woman would realise that this approach was not working, that Mac was going to be stubborn about this. And as I am an intelligent woman, I tried something different.

"You are a selfish arrogant bastard." I said. He smiled at me sweetly and made His way to the couch and remote control.
"I expect dinner to be ready in about 30 minutes Sarah." He said.

And of course I went to prepare dinner mainly because I felt like having a knife in my hand. I chopped and I cut and I sliced and I peeled the skin back off things and I imagined the poor vegetables screaming as I stabbed them and boiled them and mashed them up.

When I called Him to the table at the 30-minute mark, He smiled as He walked towards me. I scowled at Him in return. As He passed me He grabbed me and spun me around, pressing me against the wall. With one hand on my waist and the other in my hair I was pretty much His captive. I didn't try and struggle. He kissed my cheek very softly.

"Sarah," He whispered in His most seductive voice, "behave now. I want to eat dinner with my good girl." He let me go and it wasn't until I took a breath that I realised I had been holding it in.

It worked. I settled down even though I was disappointed that He had stopped. It felt like there had been the promise of something more to come and if I behaved I might get to find out what it was. My mood changed and I thought it was because of the adrenaline rush I had received, or the anticipation. I was able to laugh with Him and explain the green spot on Pickle's back and I felt calm and more in control than I had all day. By the time dinner was over, I declined Mac's offer of help with the clearing away and suggested that He go and do His nightly check of work emails. He smiled at me and told me that I seemed to be feeling much better and I smiled back at Him because I was. I watched Him leave to go upstairs then I cleared away the dishes and quickly did the washing up so that I could have the evening to finish off many of the things I had failed to do all day.

I was not expecting it. I had not heard Him come back downstairs. I didn't see Him moving behind me. I guess my mind was busy on other things. I suddenly found myself pinned facing the wall again. This time the seduction was gone as was the gentleness, He was rough, He was terse and He was mean. And even though one of His hands held tightly in my hair and the other was pushing up my skirt, I was grinding my ass back against Him.

"Fuck me?" I begged. "Please fuck me?" He bruised me as He pulled my panties down. "I need You in my cunt. Please? Oh god, Please?"

He pulled my hips out from the wall so that I was bent over and I reached between my legs to help guide Him into me but I wasn't quick enough. He had already shoved His way inside. My fingers touched His cock as He pulled back out of me and I moaned at how hot and wet it felt. He grabbed a hold of my outer thighs to give Him more leverage and I had to use both hands against the wall to stop myself from being pushed into it. He fucked me brutally and no matter how hard and how deep He thrust, I couldn't help but ask for more. And I asked and begged and pleaded, I didn't dare demand, I am not the boss around here. He came without a care about my own orgasm. This was not about sex, it was about control and I had just been reminded how much of it I have. Demands do not get me very far.

When His cock had emptied and He had withdrawn He pulled me up and back against Him. He kissed my neck and my ear and murmured to me what a good girl I was. Then He told me He still had work to do.

I followed Him upstairs and marvelled at just how easy I could make the paint brush do exactly what I wanted it to do and how the colours fit together just right. I marvelled at how my frustration had just gone away. I gave it a lot of thought, but didn't want to discuss it with Mac because I knew what He would say.

He hadn't given in to the foot stomping, pouting little girl that stood in the entryway because I didn't need to be fucked. Even when He had fucked me, that had not been what had relieved the tension that I had felt. It had been when He took control away from me. It wasn't because of the promise of more to come or the adrenaline rush, it was because He had proven that He was not going to put up with my little tantrum. If it had been another man that pushed me up against the wall, I know I would have fought back, but with Mac there was no need to. I was just making sure that He was going to put me back in my place.

It may be wrong of me to put Him through these little tests, even if I do not always realise that is what I am doing. But I am a female and it is my baby making time and I guess my instinct is just to make sure that it is a strong Male that I am mating with. Mac says He understands what it is I do and why and instead of it turning Him away from me, He finds it very feminine and it turns Him on to see me acting in such a female way. Besides, He believes He is strong enough to pass any test that I come up with. He knows He is stronger than me and is not about to give in. So He came back downstairs and fucked me simply because it was what He wanted to do. What I wanted had not been on His mind.

Of course He scowls at me when I pout and He glares when I stomp my foot, but when I readily submit as soon as He points to my place at His side, He finds that so very alluring that it makes His cock throb in a way that only I can relieve. He doesn't hide that from me. He believes it is good for me to know that my submission affects Him in that way. I believe it is good for me to know it too. It takes away any fear I could feel in submitting to Him.

This morning I woke Him with soft kisses. He turned to His side and held me close.

"You know," I said as I snuggled into His chest, "You are a selfish arrogant bastard, but I love You anyway."
He laughed. "Babe, you love me because I am a selfish arrogant bastard, not in spite of it. You still need someone around that is not afraid of saying no to you."
I sighed heavily at the truth of it then I laughed because He was right again.

I may not always get what I want when I want it, but more often than not, what I need is what He wants so with very little effort, He takes care of me.

For some reason, it seems that is the way it should be. Little effort, both fulfilled.

Yes, that seems just perfect to me.

Posted by Sarah McBroden at 7:04 am

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