“I can beat you”

I take him by surprise, from sweetness to sprung energy, I grab him by the throat and shove him backwards, fast, sudden. He almost loses his balance, his eyes widen, he thuds into the wall just as he starts to flail.

I wonder if he will fight me. I want to see it. I watch the flash of defiance, maybe even anger: The injustice, the patronising cuntery of it.

“You know I can beat you,” he whispers, even as I hold him by the throat against the wall.

I take a millisecond to parse the sentence. Beat or BEAT. Doesn’t matter. He is telling the truth either way.

I tilt my head at him. I don’t say it. I don’t need to. But it’s there. The dare. The sneer.

“Go on then, boy. DO IT!”

He blinks at me, I feel him swallow under my hand. He doesn’t move.

I smirk at him, relax my grip a little and he reaches for me, instinct. I let him move a few inches towards me before I shove his head back again, the thump against the wall resonates up my arm. Solid, satisfying, sexy.

“Did you say something?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “No, Ma’am.”

Loves: 21
Please wait…

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  1. ..Yeah…

    I had a few moments with one recently who by and large identifies as Dominant himself..and there are times when he looks at me and there’s this absolute defiance in his gaze. And I know he’s thinking “I could take you.” And you know, I always grin back. Because he’s right, he could. But he won’t. Sometimes that’s the prettiest part of all.

  2. Enticing entry, pleasure to read.
    I love the feeling of someone I could throw across the room if I wanted to, physically controlling me. Not just verbally, but physically holding me down and moving me around. I could resist, I use hand weights about their weight at the gym, I could crush them without effort, but I *absolutely* don’t want to. They *are* in control, despite our physical differences. Due to love or lust, the result is the same.

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