He spun out a fantasy as He put me on my knees in front of Him and held me by the neck. That if I left - if we separated for some reason - I wouldn't last a day without Him.
"Correction, you wouldn't last half a day without me," He taunted
In his fantasy, I'd try to forget about Him. I'd fuck someone else and feel like I was high and free for a moment, but it would come crashing down soon enough. I'd be desperate to have Him back.
I didn't want Him to spin that fantasy out anymore. He was using the idea as sexual stimulation, but it just seems like a nightmare to me. I don't want to be without Him. I never want to do that inevitable dive from false euphoria to crumbling resolve to manic desperation. I know that I am unable to be without Him and I didn't want to think about it, even if it was turning Him on.
What He said was true: I would call Him and beg to see Him. He would refuse, but maybe He'd come over anyway. We'd fuck, rough, my face pushed up against the wall as He rammed me from behind. He'd hold my neck and ask me if I liked being free, if I felt good being a whore for someone else because that's what I'd become.
Kneeling before Him, I shook my head and felt the tears come to my eyes. At the same time, I could feel the wetness between my legs and that familiar pulse of lust in my cunt. He let go of my neck and smiled. "Wouldn't last a day," he said softly as He patted my cheek.