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Setting straight the tale of the gay warrior.

It always amazed me how beautiful Alicia's skin was; how her coloring came together so well. Her red hair, green eyes, and creamy complexion really did it for me. Even the lips of her sex were a delicate pink, and her nipples were only a shade darker. I loved taking care of such a big, beautiful woman.

My cooking was probably a factor in Alicia's gaining a little weight. At six feet even and one hundred eighty-five pounds, she was a big woman. In the first six weeks of our relationship, she gained seven pounds. At first, she seemed upset, and threatened to take it out of my hide, but then she adjusted. I began watching our calories carefully, and she stabilized.

There was one other duty that I insisted on doing: Alicia's breast exams. When I asked her about self-examining her breasts, she admitted to doing it rarely, if ever. So, I began carefully examining her every month, if not more often.

When we were both ready for bed, I usually laid out, of all things, a flannel sleepshirt for Alicia. It was winter, after all, and she didn't like to be cold. I, however, usually wore only a tee shirt to bed. Alicia liked to be able to touch me whenever and wherever she wanted.

Before climbing into bed, I made sure the doors were locked, set the burglar alarms and alarm clocks, and turned off the lights.

Then, if Alicia was feeling sexy, which she often was, she would pat her lap and say, "Here, let me have a look at you." I would crawl across her lap and she would inspect my bottom. If I had healed sufficiently from the last spanking, she would give me another. Then, she would allow me to slip off her nightshirt, and we would make love.

These evening spankings were not the hard, angry spankings that I sometimes got when she was taking out her work frustrations on me. They were my mistress' way of expressing her love for me, and fulfilling one of my needs. They usually just warmed my ass up, and made me an even more eager lover than I usually was.

Alicia was my dominant, but she was my lover as well. We were each in the relationship to meet a need in the other. I needed to be loved, dominated, and spanked--hard. I also needed to care for someone. Alicia was a women of strong physical and emotional needs. She operated best when her emotional needs were met. That is, she needed to feel loved, but she also needed to have the upper hand in her relationships. In addition, I was happy to provide for her physical care. This included her body care, her meals, and the maintenance of her surroundings. It also included the vigorous and loving sex that she demanded, and that I was perfectly willing to provide for her.

The spankings that I received provided the vital link between us. They provided Alicia with tangible proof that she was in control. She could touch me any way that she wanted. I could be caressed or spanked at her pleasure. They also provided me with proof of who actually controlled the relationship. Spanking gave me a sense of security. I knew what my boundaries were. I felt very loved when my ass was sore from a spanking. I was usually spanked for about three reasons: I was spanked as a prelude to sex. This could be a light or hard spanking, depending on how excited Alicia was. I was spanked when I made some mistake in the running of the house, or when I annoyed her in some way. Lastly, I was sometimes spanked when she'd had a bad day at work, and needed to vent her anger. These were the hardest spankings of all, and Alicia was usually contrite afterwards.

If there was a limiting factor in all this, it was the condition of my bottom. Alicia told me early on that she might mark me, but that she would not bruise me or draw blood. Her spanking of me, and my acceptance of it, were expressions of love. Beating me would have not have been the affectionate gesture that spanking was. Also, I was never hit on the face, only on the bottom.

Before I was spanked, I was thoroughly examined by Alicia.

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