She lies there, naked, hands raised over her head, subconsciously opening her body up to him. Even though he isn’t there, by her side, she is consumed by memories of him. Memories of the things he did to her. The way he consumes her waking moments and her sleep induced dreams. She is deep in thought, unable to sleep. Shadows nestled in the darkness of night playing in her mind.
She remembers back to the times they shared. The taste of him on the inside of her mouth. The salty, musky and sweet taste of his manhood. She still feels the texture of him on her lips. Her tongue traces her lips subconsciously as she remembers feeling him, tasting him, licking him as she worshipped him unlike any other that had she had come across.
She loved the way he imprinted himself in her mind, just as he did upon her body. The way his gentleness would tantalise her and his brutality would bring her to life. His nasty, his rough, his strength would imprint himself over her as he painted her like a beautiful canvas that would become a masterpiece. A timeless masterpiece that all would desire to own, yet nobody but him could have.
Her body covered with him. Marks of ownership. Hues of blue, black, purple, violet and red. Painting her with his sin, his passion, his desire. She reflected back to the way he would be so gentle after beating her. Kissing her from head to toe. Lying there and looking at her. The creation that had been dragged out kicking and screaming. His pain and the breathtaking way he hurt her, offering her a freedom very few ever encounter.
She still feels the stings and the thuds, where he chose to hurt her with his personal toys donated to her, that only existed for use on her. His whips. His paddles. His chains. She thinks back to the smell of her sex, mixed with the scent of his sweat. The way he made her cunt come to life. The wetness that was created for him and because of him.
The way his brutal treatment had taught her to trust him. He hurt her, allowing her to let down decades of walls. He clearly saw the parts of her that she had so cleverly engineered to be hidden. The parts of her than she hated with the utmostvehemence. They were the parts that he loved most intensely. The pieces that she always struggled with. He always, without question of doubt, unconditionally accepting her for the beautiful woman she is.
The way he could listen to her silence and understand her. The pain in those words uttered, which made her keep silent. The sadness that reflects in the fake smile she delivers to those around her. The way he pulled her in, when all she wanted to do was push everyone away. The way he broke those barriers and allowed her emotions to flood into him. No judgement. No pity. Just acceptance of the most beautiful kind.
His patience that allowed her to focus instead of spiralling out of control. The ability to ground her and create the simplest of accountabilities that drove her to comply. To obey. To complete the tasks he gave to her, like her life and existence depended on it. The way he so casually commanded her, driving her to her knees with the most desperate of needs to please him and complete his every task, every single time.
He was Dominant by nature and her submissive existence simply melted in his presence. She had no control over her own feelings. She was His. Every single part of her body, her mind, her essence and her existence. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else existed in her world.
Just Him...
