Just Thoughts

thoughts

Driving home…

… I remember last night.

… I think of him touching my leg when we sat at the bar. His hand had a message.

… I think of his arm briefly around my shoulders when we walked back to the car.

… I think of him slapping my ass when he happened to pass behind me in the kitchen.

… I think of how I wiggled my ass and got what I wanted – some stingy slaps.

… I think of him bending over me, kissing me and wanting to grab my breast.

… I think of how I pushed him away.

… I think of the change in his eyes.

… I think of my mischief, how I stuck my tongue out.

… I think of him asking “what was that?”

… I think of me sticking my tongue out again.

… I think of how hard he grabbed my breast, hurting me while he said: “It seems you have forgotten who’s the boss.”

Driving home, I know we are on the road to recovery. On the road to finding a new balance with the new circumstances, the fact that he’s a bit more ‘restricted’ than he had been before. I know we will get there, and I know I will kneel before him again.

Β© Rebel’s Notes

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