To speak to you of desire.
Desire is a story that falls from my lips, that beats in my heart, that bleeds from my fingers.
Desire makes me act out. A simple game of edging turned into a marathon that lasted over a week. Obligations kept us apart for longer. By the time he found me I was irritable, hostile, flippant. I was beginning to feel unwanted. Nothing he could have changed. Nothing that was his fault. It just happens. It is, as I told him, our norm when we are both busy.
What was uncalled for, was my snappish suggestion that he find another, more available… tart, may have been my word. It was hurtful, unnecessary, and nothing I meant. It earned me my first touch from him in what felt like forever. A slap across the mouth (if you’re crying abuse, you don’t understand our dynamic yet). It caught me by surprise. It angered and aroused me. I yelled at him. He hoisted me over his shoulder and carried me to the bed. I fought the whole way.
My blood was boiling. I was hot, through and through. I wanted to claw his eyes out and dig my nails into his back while he savaged me. I could feel the same heat beating from him. He threw me on the bed and tied me to the frame quickly with a belt and part of the sheet he ripped. His eyes were like fire. He ripped the thinnest cane out from his box beneath the bed and made quick work of my feet and thighs. I yelled at him and thrashed about.
“I don’t appreciate that!” I yelped, after a particularly harsh shove of the cane tip into my tender arch.
“No? But you do enjoy raising up your hackles, acting like a brat, and suggesting that I go find whores, instead of what’s mine? That there could be anyone else for my desires, my lusts, my discipline?”
I hiss and sit up straight to watch him continue. I grit my teeth through the pain. Every time I hold back, he goes farther and farther. Until my hand darts out. I grab him round the wrist, and give it a squeeze.
“That… hurts,” I growl through my teeth.
“That is very much the point,” he says.
He slaps my hand with his free one and I stroke the inside of his wrist with my fingertips, firmly, deliberately, my eyes never leaving his.
“Yes?” he snaps.
“You’re so… mean…”
He arches a brow and his eyes search mine.
“Should I be nice then?”
“I… I don’t know…” I struggle internally. I release his hand, fall back onto the bed and close my eyes, ready to endure more of his whipping.
The next sensation I feel is his fingers sliding over my feet, caressing my hot, tender skin gently. I whimper softly. Every touch is pain. And then his lips are against the ball of my right foot, kissing me just beneath the toes. I melt against the bed as goosebumps rise over my skin. My fingers slide over my face, hiding my hot cheeks, my parted, panting lips. He rains airy, light kisses against my skin, presses his teeth against the soles of my feet.
I moan softly. I tremble beneath him.
“What now, sweet little girl?” he coos at me, his voice is dark, full of promise and desire.
I reach down with my arms and open and close my fists in rapid little butterfly movements, making grabby hands at him. I feel the bed depress and then he’s scaling it until he can lay down next to me, slide an arm beneath my back, turn into me. Still in my makeshift shackles I turn into him as best I can and wrap my arms around him, one hand in his hair, the other tracing the lines of his jaw. He nestles in closer to me and I gently brush my thumb against his lower lip and gives his hair a tug.
“Mmm yes?” he murmurs.
“I want so much… I want so many things…” I whisper and drag my nails lightly against his scalp.
He leans in, past my hand and kisses the corner my mouth. My heart races and I turn my head to catch his lips. My hand slides down his chest, beneath his shirt to press against his skin, to stroke his abs, my fingers dip beneath his pants to press at his hips and he bites my bottom lip.
“I want your body weight on top of me, pressing me, pinning me to the bed. I want your fingers tearing into my skin. I want your lips… everywhere,” I pant. “I need to feel you as deep inside of me as you can be…”
He groans low and deep against my mouth at the last and I trace my nails against his skin in slow, deliberate circles.
“My body will know no peace until I can have these things,” I growl into his ear.
He slides out of my grasp and crawls back down between my legs. His hands are at my ankles and quick as a flash I am free from the bed frame. His hands slide up my outer thighs, beneath my skirt, until they reach my hips, and then he rips the fabric down and off.
“Spread your legs,” he breathes from somewhere near my knees.
I spread my legs wide and hear him make a noise of appreciation that is all male and all lust, and something flutters inside of me.
“God… look at that… your panties are soaked through…”
“I know!” I moan in embarrassment.
“So pretty…” he inhales deeply. “Smells so good,” he growls.
I spread my legs wider and angle my hips. My hands are beneath my thin sweat shirt and I am tugging and pinching my nipples. There is a sweet burning in the back of my throat.
He climbs in between my legs and peels my panties to the side before pushing his cock all the way inside of my body. I gasp and arch my back, hands clawing for him.
“Take it baby… take all of it…”
I’m panting already. He’s let me use my toys during my marathon of edging, but nothing is like having him fill me. He presses in and out of me, deep and slow at first, until I start pressing my hips up desperately, begging him for more. His hips slam against mine.
“Do you hear that?” he hisses. “Listen to how wet you are… your wet cunt feels so good wrapped around me…”
I moan through my teeth, barely able to breathe, to think, to articulate.
“This is what I needed,” I groan. “Your cock…”
I can’t stop thrusting my hips against him and pulling him down to me at the same time. I want more of him. I want all of him. I want him to fuck me until it hurts. Until I’m begging him to stop.
I would never beg him to stop.
He fucks me down into the bed and I fight him the whole way. I love the weight of him on me. Secure. Controlling me. Keeping me.
“Do you want to come on my cock?” he groans desperately.
As soon as he says it, it is there, huge and unwavering and unrelenting. I am going to come.
“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” I whimper.
“Want to right now?”
“Please,” I cry.
He allows it, and I am undone. My hips thrust and pump against him while my inner muscles spasm uncontrollably. A wave of euphoria hits me and I am dizzy with pleasure. My voice is one long moan, one long cry, one long prayer. I am crying thank you and oh god and praising the his cock.
The sound of his pleasure drives me mad. He is talking in my ear while my orgasm rips through me. I only want one thing right now. One thing to make it perfect.
I dig my nails into his back and pull his ear down to my lips.
“Keep fucking me until you fill me… fill me with your cum… fill me till it’s spilling out of me…”
He groans and pounds his body into mine. I wrap my knees around his hips and pull him in tighter, deeper. With a roar that echoes into the room, he tells me he’s going to cum and I cry out for him, my hips pump against him, milking him of his seed.
He collapses onto me and we are fluid: sweat and come and tears.
“Was it worth the wait?” he whispers into my ear.
“Yes,” I think I say. I cannot be too sure. My arms are wrapped around him and I feel the edges of sleep already tugging at my eyes.
“You’re such a good girl,” me murmurs.