My relationship is... special. It probably needs padded walls because the boything and I are just slightly less than absolutely insane.
1. We don't do nicknames--nicknames and pet names and shit actually make my skin crawl, and I would punch him in the balls if he called me 'boo' or 'baby girl' or any of that shit. ('Boo' and 'baby girl' and 'hun' and 'sweetie' are some of the ones that truly inspire hatred and disgust in me.) When we first got together I think he called me 'babe' once or twice before I asked him to stop or I'd break up with him. BUT! I do call him my 'pet'. He calls me his 'mistress' I am far and away the dominant partner and that establishes the pecking order pretty clearly. I am very much the one in control here.
2. Because of this, I jokingly asked him if he'd wear a collar. He's very, very easygoing and enthusiastically accommodating so sometimes I'll ask him to do shit I know he doesn't like, just so he'll say no. Call me quirky but I like knowing he isn't a complete pushover. That was why I asked him to wear the collar in the first place, and was shocked he said yes. He said he'd wear it everywhere. So I bought him a very nice blue leather one a few days ago and he wore it. It looks very nice. (I also put my ring on it instead of a tag. I wanted to get one that said 'Bitch' but the ring was cuter.)
3. In case you can't tell, he's very much a submissive. He also loves pain. I've been with guys who liked pain before but none of them came close to Max. I can just about draw blood on him. I can bite him so hard it triggers my gag reflex. (Yes it is possible, for me at least, to bite down so hard it can nearly make me throw up.) Oh, he loves it--I've never met somebody who gets that turned on by pain. By this morning he was covered all over with bruises, blood bruises, teeth marks, scratches... he looked like he'd been attacked by an animal!
4. So, we spent the entire time at a dive of a hotel a few minutes from my flat, which even here is actually a pretty nice place. But sometime one Friday or Thursday there were a bunch of cop cars arresting a guy for drugs and picking up a hooker right across the court. Around 10.30 when he and I went out to get food and some movies (believe it or not, we actually watched movies--when we weren't messing around) there were a dozen cops at least hanging around with lights flashing and everything and I nearly opened the room door into one. I came out looking debauched and underage, like I do because I barely look eighteen when I'm really 24, and the cop looked at me distinctly concerned. I'm 90% sure he wanted to either ask me if I needed help or call my parents or something.
5. When I got back Max told me he worried the cops would think he'd been in the room with an underage girl (he looks much older than I do even though I'm older than he is) and question him. He said, "Fuck, they were gonna think I was fucking a teenager and see all these bites and I was assaulting you and these were defensive wounds! I was gonna have to have 'em call you!" To which I replied, "If they had to call and make me verify my age, I'd've answered, 'Oh GOD, is this the cops AGAIN??' like it happened all the time!" I thought he was going to fall out of bed.
6. Both of us snore, talk in our sleep, flail in our sleep, and otherwise behave nocturnally in a manner that suggests we will both be sleeping alone forever. Somehow neither of us minds.
Other things we mutually don't mind: video games, snorty laughs, incessant swearing, insecurity, depression, belching, and stupid jokes.
Clearly this must be love.
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