Posted by: littlegirlyone | October 21, 2007

across the face, across the universe

andrew and i had talked the night before about face-slapping. i have a penchant for it. in fact, it was the very first overtly BDSM experience i had: nearly 7 years ago, i begged mark to hit me across the face while we were fucking. it was love at first impact.

there is something so powerful about being hit across the face. many women would walk out on a man for hitting them like this; i would look him right in the eye and beg/dare him to do it again. harder. i’m not afraid of the solid clap of a palm on my cheek; i am instantly wet. just thinking about it makes me floaty with desire.

so it wasn’t very surprising when andrew, having secured my hands behind me in padded cuffs, pressed me back into the velvety pillows, looked me right in the eye, and clapped me across the cheek.

but i am getting ahead of myself . . .

meg was recovering nicely from her spanking. she and i had both confirmed our “okay”-ness to eachother, and she was sitting on the floor next to me. somehow, the subject turned to me, my submission, my inexperience. meg was trying to convince me to experience my first over the knee spanking (actually, my first real spanking in that it would last more than a few swats, and turn my ass bright red before it ceased). i wasn’t sure.

i was rather comfortable with the dynamic as it was: meg was submissive, i was somewhere in the middle, and andrew was dominant. i liked the control i was able to exert over myself from my position, and the fact that i wasn’t expected to be in charge of meg, or responsible for her in the ways that scare me. i was allowed to sit where i liked, do as i liked, within reason, and i was perfectly content with that experience as it was. the idea of submitting to andrew, really submitting to him physically, intimidated me.

first, there was my discomfort at submitting to “meg’s dominant.” i’d already told both of them that i felt a tiny bit apprehensive, like i would be hitting on my best friend’s boyfriend. but they both assured me they didn’t see it that way, and that i would be doing no such thing. second, there was the unsexy business i mentioned before. it was humid, and i felt damp and sticky, the coffee i’d happily gulped earlier was making me paranoid that i had the dreaded coffee breath, and, having just spent close to an hour looking at meg’s statuesque form and alabaster skin, there was the old, hard issue of my curvaceous self-consciousness.

i resisted. even if i hadn’t felt intimidated for the two reasons above, i can’t imagine i would ever have agreed to such a thing without hesitation. if they were looking for the submissive me, they were going to have to deal with my inability to ask for things. and they did. before i could really formulate a protest, andrew was deciding.

“kneel right here,” he said. he was pointing to the patch of carpet in front of him, between the couch and the coffee table. “spread your knees,” he ordered, “wider, wider,” until my thighs were as far apart as they could go. he pulled the padded cuffs out from behind him, and enlisted meg to help him get them on me. they each attached a cuff to one of my wrists. then, when i was unable to move due to andrew’s position over me, and my lack of hands, he asked me if i had any additional limits i wanted to tell him about. (i’d already given my hard limits to meg to tell her owners for me).

“i want to keep my dress on,” i said meekly.

“why?” andrew asked.

“i-i just feel like i need it. i feel vulnerable, and unsexy and i don’t want you to see me . . . ” i trailed off.

meg chimed in, “she had a hard morning! let her keep her dress . . . “

andrew was not persuaded, i could tell by the look in his eyes: a mixture of amusement and firmness. my dress stayed on, for the moment.

the next thing i remember, i was sinking backward into the couch pillows, as andrew raised his hand. “tell me what you like to be called . . . “

i hesitated.


i closed my eyes right before his hand hit my cheek, and turned my head to the left. then, blinking, i looked him right in the eye again and didn’t answer.


the tingle of his hand’s impact on my cheek aroused me. still, i didn’t answer him.

“tell me what you like to be called,” he warned.


no answer.

“tell him . . .”i heard meg speak softly.


“you should have answered me,” he growled. and then, suddenly, he rained blow after blow on my face. i absorbed each swat like a sponge: greedy, hungry, darkly thinking about how many more times i wanted him to hit me, about how much i craved it.

in a quiet gratitude, i answered, “slut.”

it was just one example. there are sooo many worse things i like to be called, but it was a start. i felt, all at once, like this chasm of desire had opened inside me for the first time: i wanted to hurt, i wanted to take every slap he had in him, i wanted, desperately wanted, to feel his energy smacking into my face, pushing me deeper into obedience. i felt fiercely hungry.

i opened my eyes, and met his again. the desire i felt to be made subservient and small overwhelmed me. he saw something flicker in my stare, and he asked me, quietly, “do you resent me for that, slut? are you angry? are you resisting me?”


like a cable, i snapped. “nooooo . . . ” i wailed, as i burst into tears. “no, i’m not angry with you,” i sobbed. “no . . . “

he held me. i couldn’t really explain it to him, or meg, or even myself at the time, but i was strangely proud in that moment. it sounds ridiculous: proud of my stinging face, proud of my salty tears, proud of my dark and crazy masochism, but that is exactly how i felt.


  1. i still think that this is truly striking. i remember how it was for me to watch you being slapped, and that memory fills me with a charge too. but i think that most of the energy i feel in my stomach right now comes from your words and the way you’re putting them together here. it’s really powerful. like i told you, i can’t wait to see the way that you put together the close of this story.

  2. This has an immediacy and conviction that is stunning. Please tell us the rest very soon.

  3. this sounds incredibly intense. the way you described the experience puts me right there with you. very powerful.

  4. i’m so sorry this is taking so long to come out of me, but i will end the fairy tale, i promise 😉

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s


%d bloggers like this: