Don’t Waste Your Time On Me, You Are Already the Voice Inside of My Head

We talk and compete and verbally spar. We talk about running game on others and each other–the art of it, as it were.

We flirt. How rare to flirt with with your partner… to make the blood boil to make the pulse rise. We flirt.

It becomes tense. Intense. His voice drops octaves, my thighs clench. I bite my lips.

He threatens an evening of true seduction. I counter threaten. We make plans in a loose and noncommittal way.

The hour grows later. The talk grows more serious. The desire rises.

Impact play.

My tits are already bruised from binder clips and clothespins and grabby hands.

But more is required.

You don’t always need a tool. The hand does quite nicely, thank you.

The sharp sting, the dull thud, the slapslapslapslap against my breasts, against my chest.

Thunder is the background noise of our play, rolling across the sky.

Heat lightning follows, arching across the late, late afternoon rays, the distant dark reds and oranges foretell the onset of the night.

I am howling and moaning and squirming beneath the blows.

Binder clips on my skin. Pulling it taut and tight, bruising, breaking blood vessels and capillaries.

I’m crying. I’m sobbing. I’m begging for more.

“I’m just not holding back-”

“Like you usually do,” he finishes my sentence for me.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

A moment. A strange moment. An intense and infinitesimal breakthrough, but it means everything.

Admitting that I’m holding back usually.

Admitting that I’m not now.

Embracing the pain slut inside of me as he embraces the sadist in himself.

We coalesce.

There is a coming together. A meeting, a melding of minds and bodies.

He pushes me past my limits.

I hunger for it, just so.

“You can scream as much as you want to,” he says.

I cannot breathe.

It hurts. It hurts. Fuck. It Hurts.

He hurts. He hurts me.

We are a mess of bodily fluids. Cum and sweat and my tears.

I am numb and soft and quiet, and I think he is too, as we whisper in the near dark.

Are you okay?

Are you going to be alright?

Deep breaths.

Calm down.

Come down.

A hot bath. A long soak.

Cucumber and Mint lotion.

Applied gently.

Just to make you feel better.

Does it make you feel better?

Yes. Yes.

3 responses to “Don’t Waste Your Time On Me, You Are Already the Voice Inside of My Head

      • LOL 😛 I was in a strange place that day.

        Well, what I meant was – these people (I know you and your Sir are real, but in my head I’ve made up these characters, you know, like a story) – I’ve started following the story of these people, and they just keep getting so amazing and intense. And, I just felt like I was falling for the characters (the ones in my head – the ones I’ve imagined through all the reading).

        I don’t know if it makes any sense now 😛

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