Jon and I had made the most of his last weekend with me. From Friday night, when we literally collapsed into sleep, until he got into a cab at my front curb eleven a.m. Monday morning, we stayed in to hang-out, fuck, eat, watch TV and fuck some more. Along the way he gave me a really good over-the-knee spanking Saturday afternoon, I gagged with his raging hard cock while fingering myself right after, then we fucked into a deep sleep after dinner. Sunday morning Lisa and Bill came over for breakfast, then Jon and I watched football until five when he turned to me with the wildest look in his eyes-and I had seen plenty of wild looks in his eyes-and said: "We need something to commemorate this trip."

I was a little taken aback, truth be told. Beyond all the usual juicy sex we had had and Jon's more sure adept handling of me-and God how I had ached for him to handle me like the little girl/pet/toy he always claimed I was-we had managed a great two days in San Fran where I had dommed him for the first time and had quite the head spinning rumination over belting his ass there, then getting back to my house and me dressing as usual in my own version of Bettie Page to tease him, then all this good sex we had had during the weekend. He thought we needed to commemorate somehow more?

"We need to get you a tat," he added and I nearly melted on the couch next to him, "Henna of course."

I already had a tat on my right forearm and the obligatory one on my ankle I now regretted. I didn't fear getting inked by any stretch of the imagination and Jon knew full well I had an ex who owned a shop in town that was pretty much open 24/7...or at least would be for me. The idea that the tat would be only henna, but drawn by a real tattooist fit in well with what Jon and I were about and I wasn't really surprised at this particular way of Jon wanting to mark me.

Jon nor I needed modifications, piercings, tattoos, collars to hint at or reveal the submission I felt when with him, the control he had over me, or the times-few though they had been in our relationship-when the roles were reversed. Before my marriage, having stepped through the wild and woolly backgrounds of what most people view as non-vanilla sex, or at the least alternative with all the lesbianism and kink I got into, I had witnessed plenty of people playing with who they were to someone else or who they were faux forcing their willing partner to be. While cock cages and collars were enticing, while I did like the 'idea' of some marking that would indicate Jon owned me in some way, neither he nor I was about anything permanent, save what we could build in our hearts and heads for one another.