I'll never go back to him. But I think about him all the time. Everything about us was wrong, except for the part where he understood that submission was the deepest need I've ever had and he knew just what to do with it. That all I needed was for someone to tell me that it was alright, the way I felt and what I wanted had a home. He turned the key and opened a door than I can never close.
I find myself having a bad day, and I think of him. But it's not him I miss. It's not really him I crave. Its the fulfillment I felt on my knees with his cock in my mouth. It's the sting of his hand on my ass, the way I thought I didn't like it but he knew that I would, he knew I'd get to the point where I'd ask to be spanked, and choked. I crave the sense of calm I felt after pleasing him and letting him have his way with me. Being his good little girl, even though he rarely used those words I wanted to hear so desperately. But to be fair, I desperately wanted to say words of my own to him that I held back. I held a lot back, and he held a lot back and that more than anything was proof that what lay between us wouldn't go very far.
But he confirmed the truth I already knew about myself and I am so desperately hungry for more. Sometimes I dream of crawling back to him on my knees, and begging for more, but I'm stronger than that.
Only just.
