control · D/s · Richard

fight me

Sometimes when Richard and I meet he beats me to the apartment other times I get there first. From the very start he has set certain expectations for my behavior. When I get to the apartment he expects me to be showered and ready for him. Ready for him can mean a number of things. It can be resting quietly…napping until he gently wakes me. It can also mean kneeling in the middle of the bed on my hands and knees with my back arched slightly. This position is more of a default position, it is what I do when he does not specify something else.

Lately it seems as if he gets there before I do. I find him waiting for me. I love that moment..walking in and finding him there. I become fully cognizant of what I am to him and I feel flooded by what we have. I feel an amazed sort of excitement knowing that for the next several hours it is just the two of us- no distractions.

The apartment was empty when I walked in. I tossed my backpack down on the chair and wondered when he would join me. His last text message just said that he was running a little behind. He told me to rest up and he’d be there as soon as he could. I wasn’t sleepy at all so I just curled up there and read some poetry. I undressed down to my panties and pulled on one of his dress shirts he had left behind. It smelled like him and I snuggled down into the softness of it and like a good submissive I waited.

I didn’t wait too long and soon he was walking through the door. He tossed his jacket over the back of the chair and began to undress. I sat up and looked at him and he noticed what I was wearing. He told me if given the choice he would keep me in his dress shirts..naked beneath. He smiled, kissed me and then said he was going to take a quick shower.

“Be a good girl and I’ll be right back.” he said kissing me again. I realized how happy I was as he walked away. Secure in what we share and not doubting the realness of it or what it means. A few minutes later I heard him come out of the bathroom and he walked over to the bed dropping his towel on the way to me. He pulled the covers off of me and I turned to look up at him waiting to see what he wanted or needed from me. I rolled over on my back and felt my hands go up and rest slightly over my head in that natural submissive state that comes over me when I face him. He pulled me up and kissed me hard on the mouth. I struggled slightly not expecting that. I was waiting for his words and instead he kissed me. I realized I struggled and made my hands fall from his chest. He pushed me back down and I misunderstood his action. I thought he was upset that I showed resistance.

“I am sorry Sir…I won’t fight you, I am not sure what I was thinking.”

He laid down beside me and rested his body half across mine. His hands roamed my body.

“Fight me.”

“What?” I whispered.

“Fight me pixie, fight me. I want you to.”

“, I can’t fight you, I don’t want to. It doesn’t feel right.” In my mind fighting him was unnatural. It went against all he had taught me, all I knew was expected of me. I wanted him to do to me whatever he wanted to do to me. I didn’t like to struggle.

He smacked my face..hard once and then again.

“Obey me. I said fight me.”

“I can’t Richard…I don’t want to fight you.” I felt confused and out of my element unsure of what he was asking, unsure of what he wanted. He smacked me again and I started to cry. Not because he was hurting me but because I was not able to do what he asked. He pinned my arms over my head with one had and smacked my face once more. I felt hot and a little angry that he was doing it this way. I wasn’t supposed to fight him. I was his submissive. I was there to please him. Not fight him.

In my irritation and confusion I felt myself struggle. I strained against the tight grasp he had on my wrists and I told him to stop. I told him to get off of me. Only he didn’t. He kissed my neck and my breasts and bit at my skin leaving hot red marks across my shoulders. I pushed against him and tried to turn away.

“That’s my good girl, fight me.” So I did. I fought him I turned back and forth and side to side escaping his biting mouth and his angry hands. I tried to get away and he seemed delighted that I couldn’t. I felt his hand again on my face…a sharp stinging slap. One that wasn’t intended to hurt or leave anything other than a soon to fade hand-print but it felt demeaning and harsh. I was soaked between my legs. I wanted him this way. I liked that he was forcing me to take him this way. I felt as if he wanted to force the submission that I so willingly gave. I realized it was his right to ask me to fight…to struggle. What was the difference…had he not asked me to beg him. My struggle pleased him. I struggled. I begged. I was his to do with as he wished. Fight you…yes Sir. Please you….yes Sir.

“Please, please…let me up. Stop, stop, don’t hurt me.” I was lost in the idea that I couldn’t escape him. For a few minutes I wasn’t his submissive. Who was I? Some girl he stumbled upon..lost and alone that he could take and hurt? So many scenarios crossed my mind. I realized I was living a fantasy. It was safe. I was being forced to submit to him and it felt different than what I had always offered him willingly. It was raw and erotic and he was lost in the power exchange of what we share.

It was odd. I struggled. I did my best to keep him from taking me but knew I wanted it. All I wanted was for him to go back to the expectation that I would obey him instantly. He forced my legs apart and pressed into me….thrusting hard and deep over and over. I wanted to melt into him to wrap my arms and legs around him and be taken. I felt his hand around my throat and he squeezed me hard and my hands came up to capture his wrists.

“Fight me.” He urged. I did. I fought for my breath and he continued to thrust inside me as he controlled my air. He allowed me small little gasps of air and I was grateful for them. I felt a heat deep within and I knew I was close to a hard orgasm.

“Please…”I whispered and he knew what I was asking him. I realized the same time he did that there was no struggle left in me. I came hard against him…the evidence of my fight dripping across us both.

When it was through we were both exhausted. I learned a lesson. I learned once again that my submission must be given to him in different forms. It is whatever he needs. He can make me fight him…he can make me beg him. He can turn me into his slut..his little girl..his bad girl. But always, always his submissive. And as his submissive I will do my best to meet his needs.

12 thoughts on “fight me

  1. A welcome distraction from all the emotions. I am in awe of your connection to Richard. You give him all of yourself, don’t you? I hope your heart does not end up broken.

  2. the philosopher would agree with Richard in his choice of dress shirts as desirable submissive attire. he brought me one the first time he came to visit, brand new and startling white. when it’s too cold to sleep naked, i wear it to bed and feel his arms around me.

    a beautifully evocative post, pixie.

  3. I have never hit ~A in the face. How careful do you have to be? How powerful does that make you feel? I think that it would be such a rush.

  4. Mike – Yay for intelligent questions! =) When i was heavily involved in a regionally popular BDSM group, we would have different “demos’ at our play parties – mostly they were “how-to” discussions, such as how to deliver spankings, whippings, waxings, floggings, etc. We also had demonstrations of different scenes – a Gorean scene that showed different positions, a humiliation scene that largely involved food, mummification, pony play, interrogation. It was within the humiliation scene that i got my first taste of face-slapping, and i would say that – of course, in the most personal and idiosyncratic of meanings – it’s incredibly powerful to both slapper and slappee.

    The problem is that because of this exceptionally powerful gesture, it is quite easily “done wrong”. Now, when i say that, i mean that though the actual delivery of the slap is…simple?…the elements surrounding the action are quite important to how the slappee will react. Environment, mood, etc.

    It’s very much a case of being in tune with your partner, because a face slap attempted at the wrong time can be quite brutal – although a face slap at the right time can be a powerful and crushing force. It’s quite literally the one thing that can be done on its own without words or other action that sends me (and i’m sure many others) crashing to my knees in some form of obeisance.

    And YAY for lessons!! =)

  5. Yay for jenfrog…lol.
    I 100% agree. This is a favorite of mine. I love it when he smacks my face…it takes me to that sub head space quicker than anything else. I have found at times literally rubbing my face into his hand hoping he will do it again. Timing is cruciual..I agree and I have not ever had a bad experience with it. It is also not something that he does very often. But when he does it it is bliss. I love it.

  6. MIke, I start by just putting my hand firmly against her cheek, so she knows it is coming. Then usually just a pat, or two – pat, pat. Now you know for sure it is coming. Then a solid slap – it does NOT have to be a hard slap. It isn’t the amount of force – it is the act itself. Instant subspace.

  7. Erotic, evocative, wonderful pixiepie. I imagine it was difficult for you to be made to fight him.

  8. very hot pixie!

    nothing makes me feel more primal, more submissive than fighting my dominant and losing. *soft sigh*

    hugs, elle

    ps. i’m so glad things are working out in your favor.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s