Like Cuffs to the Bedpost

So, of course Spanky had a "gardening accident" yesterday and had to cancel our date. Apparently a weed whacker sent a solid unidentified flying object hurling into his chest leaving him with a bruise or something. Now see, if Spanky were a good masochist like me he wouldn't be able to wait to come on over and show off his bruise. But this is where we differ... and there's the rub.

You see Spanky is a real sweet guy. He's from Memphis and comes complete with a lovely southern accent and the most charming manners. He's odd and quirky and goofy, just how I like 'em. He's creative (a musician and a painter) and open minded and hard working. We share like values (he's a Buddhist... I'm Buddhist like) and we want the same sorts of things out of life. And he seems to like me quite a bit and, praise the lord, isn't afraid of saying so. Sounds like the perfect match, no?

No. I'm afraid not.

The poor man has three strikes against him. And try as I might I just can't move beyond them.

#1 He's a stoner.

It isn't a question of morality for me. Lots of my friends smoke pot. But truth be told people who are stoned get on my nerves quicker than a drunk uncle at a wedding reception.

#2 He's skinny.

Actually, he would probably be described as "fit" by most. He has firm muscles. A tight little ass. He's of average stature in all respects But what it comes down to is this: when we fuck I feel like I might break him. Or smother him. And unfortunately that does not turn me on.

#3 He fucks too nice.

Don't get me wrong. I like me some sweetness in bed. But I need a little sour too if you know what I mean.

At first I thought I could rebuild him. Like the Bionic Man. I sought advice from the two most dommy doms I know, Prince and Papi.

Prince told me I needed to try to nurture and coax the dom out of him... being careful not to top him from the bottom. He suggested I get some kinky porn, anything by Andrew Blake, and comment during the viewing of said porn on acts that looked like enticing. He suggested I talk about my fantasies, being careful not to do so in bed lest I cross over into bossy bottom territory. He went on to say:

Perhaps instead of saying something like, "I like it rough," say something about how girly you are and how much you like... mm, something sensual, like the feel of rope around your ankles or wrists. Make it confessional, a true confidence. Or steer him cleverly into a conversation about the difference between making love with girls and boys, and how much you like penetration and why. The thing is, it's unappealing I think, to the true dom, or the dom archetype in the mind if you will, to be told what to do. Whereas letting a dom know that the opportunity is there for him to express his inner fantasies is sexy for him.

All good advice, or so I thought. And then there was my papi. Remember, this is the man who sat me down and asked me my hard limits before even a tiny kiss was ever exchanged. He's all up front and by the rules. To put it simply, his advice was tell him what I wanted point blank. Say "I want you to tie me up and fuck me up the ass" or whatever. His theory is that most men are more than happy to oblige but they just don't know what the ladies want unless they're told.

Ultimately I think both doms were right. But Prince captured the underlying truth when he said When it comes down to it, you just can't make a dom. That part of his mind has to be there already, however latent.

For example, you know I have this thing about having my wrists gripped, right? I have this theory (have I told you this already?) that you can tell a sub from a vanilla by whether she offers you her hand to hold or her wrist to grab. When fucking Spanky I would sometimes rest my wrist in his open hand and press ever so slightly. That is usually enough to trigger any dominant tendencies and usually those fingers snap around my wrist like cuffs to the bedpost. But Spanky would wiggle his hand around till he was holding mine ever so sweetly. Every time.

So I told him I like it rough (this was before I sought the professional advice noted above). I thought that might be enough to get his own fantasies flowing. And I get a bigger thrill out of being the object of someone else's fantasies then I do having them act out mine. But apparently he thought I meant just thrust a little faster, a little harder. So bless his sweet soul the next time we fucked he was pumping away like a construction worker on speed... which was nice, but kinda funny too. I think the thing is I really need a pile driver more than a jackhammer, if you know what I mean.

The next time we fucked I just pushed him over and climbed on top of him. Throwing aside my fear of crushing him I rode him hard and fast like a drunken cowgirl on an electronic bullride, grabbing the headboard behind him and smothering his face with my tits. His eyes got wide and he came quickly and hard. Afterwards he rolled over and said you really do like it rough! Then he fell asleep.

Eventually I told him straight up he could pull my hair and spank me and push me around if he liked. I even sent him my list of the top 50 things that turn me on. But try as I might I just couldn't channel his inner dom.

Until...

I happened to go out of town for a week and when I came back I emailed him to tell him I had returned. He wrote back something to the effect that he should spank me for leaving him for so long... and then he apologized profusely for saying so. Of course I wrote back immediately (which would be a sure fire sign to any dom what makes this girl jump) that had I known he would respond like that I would have left town sooner. So we made a date. And in preparation for our date I went out and bought this sweet little leather slapper, finely crafted, that had a nice bite and made a delicious snapping sound when smacked on the flesh just right.

That night we ended up in bed watching a movie and snuggling. Before he had come over I had laid the slapper out in plain sight on my bedside table. I had hoped he would see the thing and instigate some spanky spanky on his own good time. No such luck.

As the snuggling got a little friskier I finally said looky here, I bought this for you to spank me with. He seemed genuinly touched.

Really? For me? he said as he picked up the slapper and admired it. He swatted his palms a few times and thoughtfully absorbed the sensations.

Then out of no where came this very authoritarian voice and he commanded me Stand up!

I jumped up quicker than a cat off a hot tin roof.

Turn around! he barked and again I instantly did as I was told.

(I should insert here that Spanky had been in the military as a young man and until that night I had always been confounded that he wasn't more in touch with his I'm-gonna-kick-your-ass-and-you-re-gonna-like-it side).

Then he said drop trou!

Huh? I said.

Drop trou! he said louder.

No, I heard you, I just don't know what that means, I stammered, truly confused.

Oh, it's Canadian for drop your pants, he explained in normal Spanky voice.

Ah. Apparently his previous girlfriend, a canook, had a bit of a kinky side herself. So down went my panties. Then he ordered me to be bend over onto the bed. As I did this I thanked the gods I had finally bought a frame for my bed that lifted the mattress up to a perfect spanking height.

Then, to my complete surprise, I felt the smooth cold leather against my skin as Spanky rubbed small gentle circles on the outside of my ass. I was starting to breath heavy. I began to wonder if he was ever gonna smack me with the damn thing when suddenly he lifted it up and brought it down on my cheek with a sweet thud. And then again, the gentle little circles on the other side, warming me up and preparing me for another whap.

He had this sort of rhythmical routine that went side to side, circle circle, smack smack. He never smacked me very hard... but it was just hard enough to make me squirm and moan and writhe about. Fuck but it was nice. Then he rolled me over, fucked me missionary style, and turned over and fell asleep. Meanwhile, I lay there staring at the ceiling with my ass all warm and glowing like sleeping embers ready to burst into flame if only someone would pour on some gasoline and light a match.