Maybe it's been an hour, maybe it's been a minute, maybe time doesn't matter...
I suddenly need it so bad, and I don't know why I need
it--the sensation of his cock sliding down my throat.
consumed, yet I can't open my eyes, and I can't seem to speak, and I
wouldn't presume to move on my own, or I'm not sure that I can...
can hear the smile in his voice, because he knows I want it, I'm
begging with my mouth, a whimper escapes me, pleasing him is the sole
focus of my being in that moment. I need it more than I need air.
there's a touch of playful menace in the slight chuckle which escapes
his throat. Because we both know that I am, and will do, whatever he
With the slightest of touches, he lets me descend to my knees, where he feeds my needs. Overeager, I choke myself on him.
don't care about the water in my nose, on my face, running into my mouth... All I care about is the feeling of his rock hard cock filling my
mouth, the sensation of him forcing open my throat, the taste of him as
he empties himself and I greedily consume every last drop.
moment, I know without a shadow of a doubt, that this is what it is all
about--though force has its place, a Master does not spend an eternity
making his slave to do things. He makes her need to please him so strong
that it overwhelms all else.
In that moment, I truly know what it is to get pleasure from pleasing.
I vaguely remember the walk to the bedroom. It is, as such moments often are, a rather hazy recollection.
remember being blindfolded and spread out on the bed...It is an
interesting phenomenon, the feeling of a Master's eyes, as they slide
over one's body.
The inspection always makes me nervous, but not
so much this time--he bathed me himself, and I seem to have temporarily
lost the ability to feel any semblance of shame...
I feel feathers and pain
his breath on my skin, his eyes wandering over me
as I bite my lip in anticipation of the first thrust
that moment when he slides all the way in
and every inch of my skin burns for him.
And I know that this man is my fantasy,
he is all that I ever needed
and everything that I could possibly ever be belongs to him.
It's the tender cruelty
the way his eyes strip me when I'm already naked
the tone of his voice when he says, "Mine"
it is the way he takes what he wants and gives me what I need
the calculating look on his face
the way he shrugs off my wants as immaterial in the face of his desires.
It's how he touches me with that gruff familiarity, no question in his mind that every part of me is owned by him
the fact that he is both protector and tormentor
drowning me in the delicious agony of my own surrender.
Maybe we live for a moment, maybe it's an eternity, maybe time doesn't matter.
As long as I know that I have pleased, there is nothing more that I need to be.