Secret signals

The dynamic can’t help but spill over and those little things, in public, that only he and I recognise, are like a kind of signal, incredibly intimate and sexy. I know I can gently interrupt him in the middle of a conversation, lean over and whisper ‘kiss me’ and he knows, and I know, that it is not an idle request, that he will do it, that I am telling him to do it, that there will be consequences if he doesn’t do it, and he does it, a gesture of his submission, of his love, and then he continues his conversation.

Or if we are out at dinner, maybe with friends, I can put some food on a fork and bring it to his lips, and I know he will open his mouth for me, and only he and I know that he loathes it, that food that is on the fork, that he hates it with a passion, and he will give me that look, that ‘yes Ma’am’ look, as he takes it into his mouth and chews, and I will adore him for it.

I love that secretive signalling – like a silent nod, an invisible thread that I tug on every now and then and I know he feels it from within, that it makes his heart flutter, makes his cock hard, makes his eyelids lower, and that’s just lovely.

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  1. Funny you should say that because I just *have* kept that promise. Thank you for the last twenty five minutes, Ferns. XXXXX

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