He’s moving slowly inside me. One of his hands holds one of mine. His whole body presses against me, rocking back and forth slowly. His lips are on my ear.
“You won’t come again for a long, long time.”
I nod my acceptance softly as he sweeps my hair out of my eyes. He kisses my temple.
“You’re mine.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He maintains his slow pace. It’s soft and sweet. Even so, I’m excruciatingly close to orgasm. An orgasm he won’t allow me.
If you took away his words, this sex would look so vanilla. There are no cuffs or chains or clamps. He’s not pounding into me. He’s not even fucking my ass as he often does. There was a time when sex like this would make my skin crawl. The slowness and the sweetness made me restless, and I wanted it over as soon as possible. Vanilla sex was never that great at holding my attention. I needed more. I needed hair pulling and nails digging into my hips and primal fucking.
Or at least, I thought I did. What I really needed was ownership—the mental calm that comes from being controlled by someone who craves my obedience. And here, I feel his ownership in every single moment. I know that I am a girl who doesn’t get to choose. I don’t choose when he fucks me or how, or whether I will be allowed release. I don’t even think about it. I just do what he chooses for me to do and feel what he chooses for me to feel. That’s it.
At this moment, his slowness and sweetness feel deliberate and controlled. They are part of his control over me. And I find myself needing it—needing his soft kisses and caresses and his slow rocking back and forth inside me. Every touch feels like a reminder that I am his.
He gives me a soft shhhh as I begin to whimper.
“I know little one. I know it’s hard, but you’re so beautiful when you struggle for me. You’re such a good girl. The best girl.”
He kisses my neck as he keeps a steady rhythm inside me. I am calm and present at this moment with him. It doesn’t feel vanilla to me at all. I’m not even sure that’s possible when he is him and I am me. Owner and property. I am his in all ways, even the soft and sweet ones. There’s nothing vanilla about that.
*Unknown
