Why I can't have nice things

[SissyNektar]

Disclaimer: There wasn't ever going to be a part 2 of this story. However, I thought it would be fun to contrast the conflicting needs, desires and sexual politics in these two encounters. Also, I won't be able to get any sleep until I've written this down, anyhow



Waking up on the couch in the small South Side apartment to a TV silently flickering images from some morning cooking show hardly paints a romantic picture, but I feel great.

I arrived at his door, knocking on it, getting no answer. I tried knocking two more times before trying the door knob. The door was unlocked. The lights were out, and I could barely make him out, sitting in his chair. He asked why I had come. I answered he knew why. "I want to hear you say it." Feeling my face going beet red in the dark room, I told the Other exactly what I wanted him to do to me.

He's asleep in his bed, somehow even more beautiful then when he's awake. I carefully get up from the couch, looking for my dress, marvelling at how sore I feel.

I begged for it. I prostrated myself before him. He took his time, revelling in my shame and embarrassment before he finally gave me me what I desired. At this point I was ready to leap to my feet and throw myself at him.

Having found my clothes I go to the bathroom and look in the mirror. I look like a total mess. My makeup and hair is ruined and I feel a shiver of delight going down my spine. I look like such a dirty girl. I entertain the thought of taking a shower, but the thought of him waking up to admire his handiwork is motivation enough to dismiss the idea.

The sex was rough and great! He knew just how far he could push me. He knew just how to play within the rules and still spring some surprises on me. He was rough, he was passionate and he was wicked. At times I was shocked and nearly outraged at the things he told me to do or told me he was going to do to me, and yet I let it all happen. I could hear the neighbors banging on the walls, trying to get us to keep it down. "I want them to hear just what a fucking nasty whore you are" the Other growled. I gladly complied.

While in the bathroom, I hesitate. What am I doing? Why am I staying? Because he understands me. He knows why I am the way I am and he didn't reject me. And I've seen his sweet side. It is something to behold. Behind me, I hear him speak. "Aren't you supposed to pee sitting down?" Prick.

As we laid next to one another, there was the usual pillow talk. You were amazing! Did I hurt you? Do you wanna stay the night? As I laid there, little spoon to his big one, I felt vindicated in coming here. I had gone through the gauntlet of abuse, but this time on my own terms, and I had come out stronger for it. He reached over for a pack of cigarettes. I told him I hated it when he smoked in bed. "My home, my rules." I took the couch. Fucking prick I thought as I drifted off to sleep.

We have breakfast, talking about what's in store for the rest of the day. He's got to go to work, but afterwards we could meet at a bar near the Alley for some darts and a late dinner. I tell him I could meet him at his workplace and we could go together. The look in his eyes says it all.

He may be dominant, and I may be submissive, but in so many ways he's the one who is vulnerable. The last thing he wants for his buddies at work to know is he's into "chicks with dicks." The last thing he wants to do is to have to explain to his parents why he is hanging out with me. He's ashamed. He's damaged. Here I can be strong for him.

I may be a sissy, but I am not weak.