The Wandering Mind

All my life I’ve been dominant. In charge.

Setting the orders.

Making the decisions.

Until now.

‘On. Your. Knees.’

His voice was commanding, laced with an edge that makes my impossibly hard cock ache for release.

We’ve stolen a moment, while his roommate was out, to take a shower together.

My first time seeing him utterly naked.

Seeing a man utterly naked.

Where did it come from? This need?

One day we’re gaming together then the next it changes everything.

It happens as a joke that becomes serious.

Now, here we are.

The words ‘Yes Sir.’ are a weight off my chest.

Anything goes.

There will be time for analysis later.

As I sink to my knees, feeling the water lash my ass, pool around my knees, I can’t pin a memory on the mind board, can’t trace it back to a moment I realised I wanted this.

Submission.

A man.

More than anything in the entire fucking world I want his cock in my mouth.

I want to please.

‘Gods, are you beautiful.’

Why does it hit harder hearing a man call me beautiful? I don’t know.

I just know my heart races wild at it.

‘Is your dominant mind wrestling with control?’

A gentle tease in his voice peppers the rushing water of the shower.

We’ve talked BDSM here or there in our 6 year friendship but it was only a few weeks ago he admitted he wanted to try dominating men too. Course, I let slip I was intrigued as a joke. But how much was it really a joke?

Really, wherever we all go are we not simply animals?

A spasm rocks sizzles over my cock as His hands cup my face. Gently. Cooly.

Nevermind his well-trimmed cock is inches from my face. Hovering there, teasingly.

‘On the contrary. I salivate.’

Gods indeed. I can hear the lust in my own voice.

But it is true. I feel my mouth water.

‘Oh I’d ask you to dribble but I’d rather fuck your wet mouth now.’

‘Why don’t you then?’

He steps closer, his cock now brushing against my lips. Tickling.

Fuck.

‘I’m enjoying how eager your eyes look. They really darken when you’re horny, you know that?’

Before I can stop myself I lunge for his cock with my mouth. Like a greedy pup that’s just had its dinner put down.

It’s only when he fills my mouth that I realise I am nervous. He’s thicker than he is big but I don’t know my own mouth either.

There will be time for analysis later.

He stumbles against the shower wall as he moans but I stay with him, wriggling forward on my knees.

The little pond of water around my ass  teases me. All of a sudden my face is buried down in his pillow, inhaling his scent. I’m desperate for him to take me.

Claim me.

My hair being tugged takes me out of it. He controls me. Owns me.

Gods, now I want to fuck HIM.

This doesn’t make sense.

All I know is I can’t get enough of that taste of him. I can’t describe it. I just know my mouth waters for more as his tip slips out of my mouth.

‘Gods.’ I hear him murmur. ‘Fuck you are delicious.’

He drowns himself out with his moans. Fuck, that makes me insatiable. Keeps me going.

Pumping his cock like a good eager boy.

This feels different. This feels amazing.

Is this me? Is this really who I am?

His moans are lighter than his speaking voice. Cute.

‘Fuck, I’m going to cum. I don’t want to fill your mouth, I..’

Stay, I wanted to growl around his cock but all that came out was a moan.

He was pulling out. He was…

My heart leapt up into my throat. Got lodged there.

A spray of his load dribbled down my lips.

I lapped it up — again, indescribable. I couldn’t think of a word to frame it.

Another spray smacked against my cheek. I could feel it roll down to my chin.

Another smacked against my chest.

Laughter.

Mine.

I’m being baptised. Born again.

An eager submissive slut.

That’s all me.

‘I’m sorry.’ He was panting through the throes of his orgasm. ‘I didn’t know if you wanted to swallow me, I didn’t..’

‘Come here.’

My mouth sank over his cock and I lapped up the rest of his cum pumping out.

Short spurts into my mouth.

‘I didn’t mean to come so early.’

‘Hush.’

This I said, hopefully not too unkindly, and went back to cleaning his cock.

He retreated from me.

Around us the pipes began to whine.

Wait. That was me. Whining at him because his cock isn’t in my mouth.

He slid against the shower wall and came to sit on its floor, eyes dotted with water beads and looking lush.

He was beautiful himself.

‘Gods I’ve made a mess of you.’

‘Am I not yours to be made messy?’

‘I’d like you to be.’

Then he smiled and became all the more beautiful. ‘My stomach is so giddy. I’ve never done anything like this.’

‘Neither. I feel — ‘

‘High, right?’

He blushed. Sitting there, water pouring from him, he was gorgeous. I loved that he was still hard.

I resisted the urge to bend down and taste him once more.

‘Anything else…Sir?’

This came without thinking.

I had yet to come. I was ravenous, in a frenzy. My cock ached for relief.

‘Come for me.’

‘You want to taste me huh?’

‘Oh I’m going to. As I’m going to fuck your pretty little ass.’

A moan spilled from my wet lips coated in him and my hand was there, on my cock, jerking fast.

He shifted closer to me, spreading his legs around mine. He kissed me…tentatively at first…then hungrily.

Something brushed against my cock.

His own.

‘I’ve never said this before but…anyone ever tell you have a gorgeous cock?’ His voice was a pure, his breath tracing my lips.

‘No one that mattered.’

Frenzy.

‘Good boy.’

Those were the words that put me over the edge.

I couldn’t contain my cries as my orgasm came out in thick, short spurts over his chest and thighs.

I was still coming down from it as I watched him scoop up my cum and taste it hungrily.

My laughter bounced off the walls.

Pure.

Unadulterated.

Bliss.

It is insane to me - INSANE - how instantaneous the effect of a storm is on my state of mind. I’m trying to get some writing done this cloudy Australian Friday — and I hear the rumblings of thunder. 

Instantly my breath is affected. Shaky. Instantly I want to slip out of my clothes and be naked. Instantly I want to BE NAKED in the rain. And as I write this, that is exactly I’ve done in my backyard. I stood in the storm and let out the biggest sigh. It’s been a week. It’s been a hot day. And I feel unbound and unrestricted in the storm. 

And then my demeanor shifts. I want to fuck. Not make love, I want to give in to the moment. To that unfettered state of mind. I want to fuck until I ache. Until we are spent. Down in the mud, on all fours. Claiming you as a my play thing and using you as such in an unbridled wrestle until my load is dribbling out of that gorgeous pussy of yours. Every last drop is yours. 

Fuck. The transformation, I feel it shifting my bones as I stretch. I’m no longer me, I’m something only the trees can pronounce.

I want to run through the forest. 

She digs deep down into the darkness — and lets herself go.

Her name is not her name anymore. The letters on her work ID that rests between her tits make no semblance of sense.

The woman that looks back at her from where she sits on the edges of a bed is wild. Unkempt. Raven hair frames her face with curls. Her dark eyes are huge but…unrecognizable.

Yet she feels the touch of the woman..pulling aside the unbuttoned blouse, unclasping her bra. Peeling away her black slacks to reveal soaked black lace underwear.

She vaguely recalls something…something about being home from work, getting undressed, but it feels like a memory.

A lifetime ago.

Instead…she watches the unnamed woman reach for the bedside drawer to her left. Watches her rummage around inside, pull out a thick, purple vibe.

The hand that rolls her nipples between its fingers is not her husband’s.

The voice that tells her to take off her panties right fucking now is not her husband’s voice.

He’s downstairs doing the dishes. She can hear him humming to himself.

While she’s up in their bedroom.

‘Who do you belong to?’

It makes no sense to think the voice in her ear is impossible but it is. It’s deep. With an edge but also somehow a softness.

The answer comes to her but she struggles to make it real. To give her voice to it. It’s there, it’s so fucking close, but it takes her a few tries to get it out of her dry lips.

‘Y-y….Y-you, Sir.’

‘So why do you deny me? Why do you deny what you are….my whore…’

‘I..I don’t..’

‘On your knees.’

The bed makes her wobble but she’s on her knees now, facing the mirror across from her. Once upon a time she didn’t like her tits, their size, their shape, the way they came to rest out of a bra. Now she feels a smile touch her lips as she looks back at the naked woman tracing the purple toy along her slit. She’s goddam gorgeous.

 

‘You don’t want to be my whore?’

The voice comes from behind her. Breath hot on her neck. She’d sell her soul to feel his hard cock against her ass. She’d do anything…

‘I do - no, I do.’

The desperation stains her voice and words.

‘Then SAY IT. Say it, you fucking bitch.’

The words cut through the air and mark her bare back, clawing down to her ass.

At the tail end of the sentence the toy leans into her clit, buzzing hard. She stifles her cry.

He doesn’t need to hear.

Is it he doesn’t need to hear or he doesn’t get to hear?

Or both?

This is for her Master.

Her mind is running away with her thoughts. She lets it go.

‘I am…I want to be…your whore.’

‘Louder.’

‘I am your whore, I am! I am!’

She’s whimpering in hushed tones.

‘Slip that toy inside yourself and tell me who you belong to.’

Her body jolts, her legs tremble, as the toy spreads her lips apart and slides right in. Her breath lodges in her throat. She has to remember to breathe.

‘I belong to you.’

Sweat glistens on the woman’s forehead. Her eyes flutter through the sweat as the toy inches a little further. The sight is knotting her stomach, turning her on.

She feels sick but…elated. High?

‘Make no mistake, my little slut. You belong to me. You have always belonged to me. I own you.’

‘Yes, Master.’

‘Master, am I? What a delightful slave you are. Put on those clamps.’

She throws back the sheets with her free hand, finds the clothes pegs buried there and slips them on both of her nipples within seconds. Pain shoots through her, startling, pinching. Blissful.

Why was she ever worried about the pain? It seems so welcoming now. Warm. Delightful.

‘Pull them, bitch.’

The noise that comes out of her is guttural, strained. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knows to be quiet. To hide from her husband.

As she pulls them, the pain increases, gnawing at her, stretching her tits to what feels like fucking oblivion. Where does it stop, where does it stop? Keep going, keep going.

 

She catches herself falling, shoots out her arms. Is on all fours now, her ass up in the air.

‘God, I want to devour that soaking cunt of yours…that needy fucking cunt.’

‘Please..’ She hears herself beg. Her heart is in her throat, blood pumping in her ears. She’s panting hard as the toy pummels in and out of her.

‘Listen to how wet you are.  Listen to how fucking much you want me. And not your husband down stairs…’

A stab of guilt. Her stomach’s twisting but she cannot stop herself.

For the love of God she cannot stop herself.

‘This is who you are. This is what you are. Don’t you run from it.’

She can feel his breath on her thighs. Fuck, she’s actually lifting her ass to him. Her hubby never fucks her ass.

‘All your life, that little cunt, those gorgeous tits, that ass, your fucking mind — all of you. You’ve belonged to me. You just didn’t know it. All your life has led to being owned by me…’

 

She desperately shuts in her moans. Lets them buzz on the back of her lips - fuck, she wants to taste him. Wrap her mouth around his cock and taste him. Better yet - show how much of a good slave she is.

Is she…a slave? Truly? Fuck.

 

She can’t get enough of the toy. Rising her hips only to glide down into it, feeling it buzz around her lips. Knowing he’s behind her watching her drip onto the bed she shares with her husband.

She’s lost in a daze, tears in her eyes, when she feels the hand around her throat. Panic comes - then dissipates. She’s falling back on her ass but he has her in his lap, guiding his cock to….

Stars. Shining bright above. Specks of light shooting across her bedroom like the cosmos is all around. He fills her completely, all consuming, all around her. Owning her.

‘Renounce your marriage.’

 

Her stomach plummets.

‘What?’

She can’t think.

‘Renounce your fucking marriage — ‘

— All she wants is his cock —

‘- and my load belongs to you.’

‘Fuck..’

She grips his thighs to maintain some sense of fucking him for herself but she can’t. He has her held tightly.

‘Now. Repeat after me. I….’

Shakily she does. Lays her full name out into the wilderness. Lays her husband’s full name out into the wilderness.

‘I fucking renounce my marriage — and I…and she belongs to her Master.’

Third person feels right somehow.

Lifts a weight she didn’t know she had around her neck.

They find a rhythm together, the heat of his chest to her back. His hands flicking her sensitive nipples like some sort of sadist.

‘Her cunt belongs to her Master.’

She swallowed. Her throat clicked.

‘Her cunt belongs to her Master.’

‘Her ass…’

‘Her ass..’

‘is His..’

‘Is His…’

‘As is her body, mind and soul.’

‘As is her body, mind and soul.’

His grunt was hot on her ear, rattled in her brain.

His cock twitched around her — and then she knew…she felt it. His load…pumping into her. Her lips split into a grin…

And she was there, laying on her stomach, her ass in the air.

‘My naughty girl, look at you…’

His cum dripping out from her lips and down her thighs.

The thought sent her over the edge.

She bit her tongue shut, guilt and lust and hunger and sluttiness  - words lose meaning, become strings of nonsense as the world around her flipped and twisted and she crashed into the bed, ass in the air, toy gripped around her eager cunt, thighs clamped shut.

‘My naughty girl…look at you…who are you? What are you?’

‘I don’t know…’

‘We’ll have to name you.’

Her chest heaves in and out. Her breath seems impossible to catch up to.

‘I’m yours. I don’t need a name right now.’

‘You will in time. So long as you never forget this..’

 

The dishes clatter downstairs.

Her head swims.

Alone in their en-suite bathroom, she cleans her toy, splashes water on her face and lit up by the coolness of the approaching evening she slips into her shorties.

She’s half tempted to leave the clamps on under her singlet. A reminder of her self.

But after pulling them off, she realizes she’s made the right decision to remove them.

The pain is delightful and worth it.

She packs her toy away and takes a look at herself in the mirror.

She’s a fierce spirit.

Before work I want you to do something for me — I want you…to take off all of your clothes…and tell me, in that moment, how you feel standing there…

Her Master’s text played like a voice on repeat in her mind as she stood before the mirror. Her honeyed hair was a mess, her eyes were still sticky with sleep. She needed a shower…but excitement was bubbling in her chest, coursing through her veins upon reading this message.

Admittedly her mind initially wrestled with this, with the fatigue in her bones. It had been a long day previous and she hadn’t had enough sleep – she wanted to stay in bed, wanted to sleep for days.

But something about this text turned her on.

She let out a shaky breath, grabbed her oversized red plaid pj shirt and pulled it over and off. Without looking up at her reflection, she slipped out of her matching red pants and kicked them aside with her pale legs.

Hm. She wrote back to her Master, looking herself over.

What?

Well, I mean…

She paused to consider this. A nude woman looked back at her. A submissive slave.
She knew this deep in her heart just by looking at her.

Honeyed hair draped over her shoulder, the curls of which ran down over her piercing grey eyes.

She’s cute.

Yeah?

The corner of the woman’s lips curved into a half-smile. Her cheeks turned red at this.

She does have a pretty smile.

She certainly does, at that. I would love to ruffle her hair.

The woman in the mirror blushed further.

Oh, she’s pretty when she blushes.

Mm? So say that to her.

There was a click in her throat. 

‘Hey, uh, so - I think you’re gorgeous.’

The slave in the mirror smiled wide.

Her heart began to race.
Cool morning air tickled her nipples.

What else do you like about her?

She thought.
The woman in the mirror pondered. 

I like her eyes. They’re a cute colour. 
Omg – and she has the cutest smile.

The best.

She just has such a lovely smile..

Mhm, she is very beautiful.

Her fingers hovered above her phone. 

Before she realised what she was doing, her hand was creeping up to her nipples, pinching them softly and rolling them between her finger and her thumb.

Her tits were bigger.
Had grown a cup size recently.

Words popped right into her mind uninvited – plump.
Somewhat triangular in shape.

But…

She scooped up her tits with her hand and squeezed gently.

…so much fun to play with.

The slave reddened by the minute.

And she felt compelled to write to her Master-

She has these cute little pink nipples.

She does, does she?

Yep!

She looked down, the slave in the mirror looked down with her. Down her stomach.

She has a few belly folds.

Everything about her is gorgeous.

She looked at the slave’s creamy pale thighs.

Marking the edges of her hips and forking across her stomach were…

She has stretch marks. I like them though. They’re fun to trace.

Yeah?

They’re like battle scars! I took on a werewolf and I might’ve got turned but don’t worry, I tracked down the head wolf and reversed the curse! 

She IS a complete badass.

The slave in the mirror turned.

Laid eyes on her ass and giggled 

I like her ass. It’s cute.

Very cute.
Very slap-able.

Do you think this slave would mind if we slapped it?

The slave moved like lightning.

The crack of skin on skin echoed in the bathroom.

And she could feel it…pulsating almost. A tiny bit of pain there. It was turning her on.

Did the rest of the house, her roommates across the hallway, hear it? It made her excited. Nervous, but excited.

Did she smack her ass?

Mhm!

And she enjoyed it?

I think it’s turning her on.

Good! You know…we haven’t given her a name yet. That could be fun?

The slave in the mirror seemed to agree. Her grin widened, flashing her teeth.

What would we call her?

Let’s see. She’s fierce. Cute.

She’s devious.

Oh, she definitely is.

But sweet.

That as well.

Little monster?

No, she’s too cute for that.

Star? Shining bright?

The slave scrunched up her nose. Too corny.

She agreed.

What about leopard?

Her heart fluttered. The slave’s eyes went wide. Her smile went just as wide. That was perfect.

Leopard. Fitting.

She felt light as a feather, as the saying went. Weightless. Free. Primal.

She wanted to fuck…more than ever. Wanted to bring out her vibe and…strangely wanted to watch the slave in the mirror play with herself.

But she had to get to work.

Sigh. And now I need to get ready for work! I love you, Master. She wrote.

I love you too, leopard! Have a most beautiful day!

 

———

 

I am my harshest critic and undergo an imposter syndrome moment with everything I write. This one came to my mind like a flash of lightning. There was something raw about it. Beautiful. Human. It felt like a snapshot into a moment, pure and spontaneous and lovely. And so I hope you enjoy it as much as I have writing it.  

 

What do I get out of being dominant? I’ve been asked that question here or there over the years. Every time I smile as I recall memories and feelings and the little things in life that have filled my heart with love and yearning - and the moments that have led me down a path of growth. 

Its become such a huge part of me that answering it, well - to be dramatic it is like glancing up at the stars in the night sky and getting so carried away and overwhelmed with strands of thought that I don’t know where to begin.  But sitting in the peaceful 3am of my Monday Morning here in Australia, soft rain gracing my windows, I thought I’d try.

I think, ultimately, it’s that I get fulfillment from my being Dominant. My needs, my love language, on both a primal and psychological level, is that I like control. I love the non-sexual aspect, of setting tasks and having that dynamic in place in a 24/7 aspect. Of dressing a submissive, of being granted control in matters in and out of the bedroom. It feels like a multi layered need and want in me. My love language. Romance, in a way. It satisfies my heart and mind.

But it goes deeper.

There is something truly, absolutely special about earning that dominance. Not taking, not unless that’s a part in the play we are both acting out, but also…there’s just something really beautiful about getting to know someone in such a deep, intimate way. Not just sexual. The conversations you have in light of the morning. In the dark of night. Out at dinner where sight and sound around you melts away and it’s you two in the moment.

There’s something beautiful about forming a bond. A bond that sets friendship alight and evolves into D/s —- and through that, there IE something beautiful about exploring a submissive’s desires and fantasies and taking your part in bringing that to life so that, together, you are living and breathing them in a way that satisfies both of you in different and beautiful ways.

So it’s about finding fulfillment in taking part in that dynamic. In leading and assuming / earning control but it’s also those small, yet gargantuan,  moments as well. Her giggles, her playfulness and pleasure (or pleasure in pain) — and then building a realm and getting lost - or found - in that realm together. Our cabin out in the forest in our Mind Place together. Where we can be free to shed our clothes, decompress after a long day or week, fuck completely like primal beings, whatever it is that we want to explore we can do so in company.

Nothing makes me happier as a Dominant then to see her in her element. Relaxed and happy, naked and collared, exploring whatever she’s always wanted to – the freedom of submission, meowing like a cat, drooling like an animal, kneeling like a slave, whatever magical it is, it is that joy in seeing her that way that fills my heart with peace and contentment. And through that, it’s wondrous to that other side of me as well.  

It also gets me incredibly, achingly hard. But that’s not quite as important in the grand scheme of things…

If you’ve made it this far, thanks for coming to TED Talk. I appreciate you reading my words. Have a lovely day! 

 

 

There’s something about those eyes.

The faintest, lightest blue.

Like a lake in wintertime. Grey mixed with the faintest blue. Shimmering. Mesmerizing. 

She stands before him completely naked. Lit by the soft purple glow of her bedside lamp. Thin black choker around her neck.

Head bowed.

Eyes down.

Arms laced before her tum.

Her chest rising and falling with every slow and steady breath.

And her eyes . . . wide and bewitching . . . Peaceful and alluring . . . 

Waiting.

No, it never goes away. That feeling that he’s looking at her for the very first time. As her friend . . . As her dominant. 

That stomach flip.

That jolt of electricity sizzling over his body.

That tremble in his breath.

Blood pounding in his ears.

She chose him.

Him.

Considered him worthy of her submission. Her mind. Her body. Her sass regulated full force to him in their own private realm.

All that she is.

All. That. She. Is. 

He has reflected upon that for years. Writing and rewriting and editing and trying to perfect the meaning, the feeling, the scale of just what that means to him, what she means to him, her submissive to his dominant. 

His self to her self.

Treading darkness with their light.

Naked under the stars.

Raw and wild.

A tempest raging all consuming and then the storm gives way to the morning light and their kisses are as sweet and soft as the morning dew that beads along their bare bodies.

 
 

 

It seems she woke up and chose brattiness.

Even after our agreed upon three-warnings-and-you’re-out, even when she kneeled before me as I bound her wrists, that half-smirk of hers was there at the corner of her lips. Challenging without words. Brattiness with a smile.

Fifteen lines of ‘I WILL NOT POKE THE SADIST.’ was the designated punishment.

Up on the blackboard we keep in the corner of the bedroom to leave little love notes to one another of a morning as we head to our place of work.

‘I can do that.’ She says with that wicked smirk. It reaches her eyes, sets a fire within them. Olive eyes blazing intensely with that same brattiness.

‘I can do that, Sir.’

My correction slips from my lips without thinking.

She rolls her eyes. And to be honest, I’m kinda impressed how smooth she’s got it down.

But a question remains — how does one punish a brat that enjoys said punishment?

‘Naked.’

She shrugs nonchalantly, that smirk never faltering, ever wicked. ‘Do it. I’m naked anyways most days. You know this.’

Her left eyebrow arches as she watches me, waiting for me to correct her.

The correction dies in my throat. Curse me for being entranced by that look in her eyes.

Before I can get the words out, she’s slipping her panties off her legs.

I keep my eyes on her.

Hers watch me just as closely.

I catch her scent in the air.

Makes me ache to taste her.

Fuck, I love the taste of her.

No.

Focus.

Easier said than done.

I feel the primal in me dragging its nails along my skin.

I want to bend her over our bed.

Take her ass.

Turn that smirk of hers into a surprised gasp that comes between her clenched lips.

I really fucking want to wrestle her.

But another idea comes.

‘Let’s grab your favorite toy. I think I want to glide it along that eager slit of yours and play with your clit while you write. Let’s see if you can finish all lines.’

And there it is. The flicker. The shock. The intrigue. The eagerness. Here one minute and gone the next. Back to composure.

Back to the smirk.

Oh, she’s good.

‘Fine.’ She says. But I catch the slightest quiver in her voice.

On her knees and one line in, I trace the toy along her shaven slit. She doesn’t let out a moan but I sense she wants to. I can feel it caught between her teeth as she breathes in an attempt to maintain composure.

Can see her jaw clench as she suppresses that moan.

But it’s only a matter of time.

Only a matter of time until she breaks. 

Until she is my needy, begging pet. 

‘There’s a good girl.’

That’s my mood right now. Denying her that release. Building her orgasm till she’s a quivering, begging, needy mess all over my sheets. I don’t care. I love to see her squirm, I love to see her make a mess. Soak my sheets. Curse my name. I’ll only prolong that edging — and how far can you go, my little, eager whore? Let’s test that theory, let’s push you to the fringes of your sanity and watch as your mind goes feral. Primal. Animalistic. Possessed.

I don’t want to stop there, you know? How sensitive can we go? How long until pleasure becomes laced with pain? How long until you’re not sure of that feeling that curls your toes, that tickles your stomach. You’re not sure because you want so badly to cum, to suck my cock while my hand, resting on yours, trails the vibe over your clit and teases your red-hot slit.

Coming for me once is not enough. It’s not enough until I hear that animal in your cries, those grunts totally unlike the work persona you present. Throaty. Guttural. Angry. What have you got to say? Let’s hear it. Let it all out because I wouldn’t be stopping any soon. Not till you’re spent, till you tremble oh so deliciously and uncontrollably.

Only then, till you’ve soaked your thighs - soaked with sweat, with cum - will I take your face in my hands. This is my favorite part, seeing you come down from the high, seeing your flushed face, seeing you pant like a cat. ‘There’s a good girl. Come back to me.’

I was drifting off when this came to me. Sleepy, aching, wanting, I wrote it out. 

Right here.
In the dark.
In the middle of the night.
I want to fuck you.
Taste you.
Feel you pant in my ear.
Somewhere out there.
There’s something so fucking sexy to me - hearing your whimpers, hearing how your soaked cunt eagerly takes me in - but not being able to see you.
Intrigue taking form in darkness.
Our minds colouring in.
As you sleepily part your legs at my touch.
Even coming to you’re so well behaved and obedient.
As I tear your lips apart and ease in.
You’ve been such a good girl that, yeah, you can ride me ontop.

I want to fill you.
I want to feel your thighs around me.
Your tits brush against my chest as you reach down for a kiss.
That quiver in your moan drives me wild so much that I do believe I’d growl around your lips. Into the kiss.
Feel me tug at a fistful of your hair, non verbal ownership.
I hope you shiver at the thought of my fingertips trailing down your back to your ass.
As I claim your cunt.
There in the darkness.
Till we kick off the covers to escape our inescapable body heat.
Sweat trickling down our intertwined legs.
Where I will pump my full load into you.
And order you back to bed with the feeling of it there around your ass.

Do you know what’s fucking delicious? The sound of my name spilling loose from those trembling lips of yours. As you follow my command, as you grind against that vibe we picked out together, it is MY name reverberating through your mind. MY name taking form on your tongue and easing out through your clenched lips in that sweet voice of yours.

It comes out in a strain, in a gasp. Without thinking. Yes. That’s it. It is instinct to your submissive mind because I own your ass. Words are almost dotted with confusion, as if you’re not sure of the intensity of the feeling gripping your body. I picture you squirming as your thighs involuntarily clench around the vibe, burying it deeper. That’s it, my gorgeous, needy girl. Think of my cock taking ownership of that tight, soaked pussy when you come back home from work.

Pinch your nipples for me. Harder. HARDER. I want to hear your frenzied cries as your mind skips over and over my order like a broken record — for you to come for me on your lunch break…over the phone, hidden away in your car in the parking lot at work, with the added cover of cars on either side. What a delightful risk. Any moment one could find you. Spot you. Out you like the eager whore you can be. I wonder what they might see. Your greedy, slickly wet cunt desperately taking in the toy, your cute, frantic moans. (That have me SO achingly fucking hard, by the way.)

That’s another matter. Do you know just what you do to me? What hearing you, in this moment, does to me? Knowing it’s you who calls my name? You! My delightful little fuck doll! Hearing how soaked you are for me, knowing when you’re back in your work meetings you’ll squirm at how drenched your panties are. I cannot keep my hands from my cock. I can already taste your cunt on my lips.

The sounds I make, the growl that comes out of me at the tail end of my moans…you did this to me. I want you to know that I’ll show you just what you’ve done to me when you come home.

 

But for now…be a good girl and fucking come for me, yes? Let out the last pieces of your sanity. I want to break you. I want to hear you.