#743) Two of His Many Faces

I love many of his faces. When he’s engrossed in something, I want to interrupt his depth of thought with kisses. When he discovers something new, his joy can bring tears to my eyes. Most of all, I love the look of his face when he’s cumming inside me, when he’s given me multiple orgasms and I’m able to give him one biggie. Fulfillment incarnate, love personified, the countenance of this man-child is beyond beautiful.

But there are two faces he makes that I don’t love, that I actually hate.

One is when all the talking is through, and I’m over his lap, with my bottom bared. The spanking is coming and we both know it. I’m a submissive who needs frequent spanking but hates it. I hate the pain! I want to get it over with, to get to the cuddling and after-care and love-making. Then there is a look he gets on his face, a look that says, “I’m going to enjoy this. You are not, I know, but I relish turning your cool fresh scalding hot, your pinkness a deep magenta, to spank the living daylights out of you.” I look up at him. I know that he loves me boundlessly, but this is a selfish look, a look of eager anticipation.

The other is right afterward, when he’s taken me past my limits, after I’ve cried and kicked and cursed. He lets me up, and I struggle to my feet from that ignominious position, and I rub my sore seat, trying valiantly but ineffectually to extinguish the flames, and I do my little dance. I am powerless not to dance in place like some marionette on his strings. I look down at him. I know that he loves me beyond measure, but this is a selfish look, a look of self-satisfaction.

As much as I love him (which is to say with all of my heart), I hate those two faces when they cross his handsome face.

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