Anger

Tuesday night we were making sweet, sweet love, I mean, in the middle of a hard fucking session, and he was talking to me.   He said something kind of mean to me and my extreme reaction took me by surprise. I went from pure enjoyment to full blown anger in about half a second.  I don't normally have a bad temper, but he knows me too well, knowing just how to poke me where it hurts.  

I found out later, after asking him, that he said it on purpose to provoke.   Of course.  

He was on top of me, and I hit him a few times on his side, my fist closed, at which he just kind of laughed.  I started trying to push him off of me, but he pinned my arms and kept fucking me.   

 Just as quick as it came, all the anger was gone, and from his wicked looking smile I could tell he was enjoying my struggle, so I pushed against him some more, as much as I could with my wrists pinned, only now I wasn't doing it from a place of anger.   

He thought the whole thing was incredibly hot, from my anger and struggles to his forcing me to continue over my objections.  He used the R word.  Rape.

Later on I felt pretty guilty at having hit him.  It was ineffectual and not very hard, I guess, but just the thought that I did it made me pretty upset and guilt ridden.  I kept reminding myself that he wasn't mad, that he'd found it hot, actually. 

The next night we talked about it as he was caning me.  Which is not easy at all, to concentrate on having a serious discussion while that is going on, but we don't get that much time alone together so this was my first good chance.   I kept losing track of what I was going to say as I was processing each painful strike. I wanted to ask him if I'd been bad.  He said no, he'd made me mad on purpose to get that reaction.    


My emotions are his to play with, just like my body, of course.     

He told me I don't like it when he tries to make me think I have some of the power, and I agreed.   I don't like it at all.  He reminded me of the obvious, that he has all the power, that I have none.   
This is reassuring.   

Wednesday night's caning culminated in him having me lie on my back and raise my legs so he could hit the backs of my thighs.   There were three or four hard ones, making me gasp and moan, then he waited.  I was getting all psyched up for the next one.   I heard the swish of the cane come down and braced- and he hit the bed instead of me!   He did this a few times until I was silently pleading for him to just hit me and get it over with.    A few more psych out blows as he pretended to be missing me because I was moving out of the way (I hadn't wiggled at all).  Then the for-real strikes on the tender stretched backs of my legs came, and he was done. 

I sucked his cock, and he came in my mouth.  It felt good and right to be used like his hole, and beaten, without getting the fucking that I was craving.