I haven't written here in a while. Life has intruded a little too much lately. He and I continue on. We learn new things every day.
Our biggest challenge lately - okay, so it's my biggest challenge - is how to do things for which there are no road maps. How to find out who you are when no one is like you. How to form your relationship when you don't think like any other couple you know. Blazing trails has never been my strong suit. I've been a conformist all my life and I've never tried to stand out from the crowd. He's a little different, but I know that He's challenged by our path. We're both so in the dark sometimes.
I hope that, as we continue to find our way, we cling to each other in the dark. We may be alone out there in what we're doing, but at least we're together in finding our way.
Showing posts with label scared. Show all posts
Showing posts with label scared. Show all posts
Darken
Would you believe me if I told you that my Owner can make his eyes go almost completely black at will? That he can dilate his pupils, and just as quickly make them go back to normal?
Well, it doesn't really matter if you believe me or not. I saw it happen.
One minute he was growling and clawing at my back, ordering me to ride him facing away from him as he swatted at my ass. He hit me harder and harder, until I leaped off of his cock in pain. He trapped me as I tried to scramble away and bit me hard on the shoulder. I arched my back and cried out, and then he bit me one each breast as he pinned me down. I cowered away from him, sneaking a look up at him snarling above me. And his eyes were completely black, like he was possessed or a vampire. He looked just barely in control and I was afraid.
I put my hands over my face, but instead of attacking again, he laid calmly next to me and stroked my hair. I uncovered my eyes and saw him looking down at me with his warm, chocolate eyes back to normal. In that moment, his pupils had retracted and he was feigning a look of innocence.
I still don't know how he did it (and if it is some sort of trick that you all know, I'd rather you kept it from me). He claims that I imagined it, like so many other things that I have seen that I know that he has done that he claims he knows nothing about. Like the mind reading, I know that that is real. But this? How could this be real? But at the same time, how could I have imagined it?
Well, it doesn't really matter if you believe me or not. I saw it happen.
One minute he was growling and clawing at my back, ordering me to ride him facing away from him as he swatted at my ass. He hit me harder and harder, until I leaped off of his cock in pain. He trapped me as I tried to scramble away and bit me hard on the shoulder. I arched my back and cried out, and then he bit me one each breast as he pinned me down. I cowered away from him, sneaking a look up at him snarling above me. And his eyes were completely black, like he was possessed or a vampire. He looked just barely in control and I was afraid.
I put my hands over my face, but instead of attacking again, he laid calmly next to me and stroked my hair. I uncovered my eyes and saw him looking down at me with his warm, chocolate eyes back to normal. In that moment, his pupils had retracted and he was feigning a look of innocence.
I still don't know how he did it (and if it is some sort of trick that you all know, I'd rather you kept it from me). He claims that I imagined it, like so many other things that I have seen that I know that he has done that he claims he knows nothing about. Like the mind reading, I know that that is real. But this? How could this be real? But at the same time, how could I have imagined it?
On Fear
Things are not always as they seem. There is fear, but I am not scared. There are tears, but I am not upset. There is pain, but I am not hurt. So much of what you see here, dear readers, is a small sliver of the experience. Think of this place as a singular moment in which you get to peek through the crack in the door. Your eyes may deceive you.
Take fear: I have described many times my experiences with fear, too many to link to here. One of my earliest memories is running away from a parent who was about to physically discipline me. In that moment, as I ran up the steps of the house and locked the bedroom door behind me, I felt a pure rush of adrenaline. It was something overwhelming, something I had never experienced before. The feeling recurred in my dreams over the years, usually in a scenario when I was being chased. I could feel that enticing and terrifying rush in my sleep and I held onto it like it was a precious treasure of an experience.
When we are together, he recreates that feeling. He pushes me to a point where I feel like I am in jeopardy, either physically or emotionally. He brings me to that point of terror and I let him. I let him. I trust Him to do that because I know that I am safe in his hands. He pulls me in opposite directions - between fear and safety, pain and pleasure - and I feel the extreme emotions at each end. That is the essence of the experience. That is a delicious feeling and one that I would be hard-pressed to describe to anyone who has not been involved in such an experience.
The experience of fear feels very real but is buffeted by the ultimately safe nature of the entire framework. It ends, but I often write from within that experience because it is so world-bending that I cannot keep it inside me. But I do not live in fear of Him. I am never really afraid, after all. I am just experiencing fear in a safe way. I love him and trust him more because we have the ability to experience that together.
Same with crying: By now, he knows me well enough to see that I have trouble letting my anxieties and emotions out in a constructive way. I do not have a place to release those anxieties in my life. I am too busy placating my family members and pleasing my bosses. I cannot unleash an emotional torrent on them and I do not know what to do with these feelings. I suppose I could take up kickboxing, but that's not my cup of tea.
Instead, he helps me exorcise those demons in a constructive way. He may bring me down with verbal humiliation or push me past where I think I can go. He is very skilled and knows just how to lead me. The goal is to allow me to release these emotions, to sob with the grief that I feel and to cry out like I have been longing to all week. He absorbs everything as he holds me. Again, there are the emotional extremes, the humiliation and the comfort all in one place. I am not really upset by the experience, after all. It is safe for me and it is a wonderfully freeing experience. Sort of like primal scream therapy for kinky people ;-)
In both situations, if you happened to peek through the crack in the door at the moment when he is holding me down and I am flailing with a look of terror in my eyes, or when I am crying and racked with sobs, you would naturally think "My god, what is that man doing to that woman?" But your eyes deceive you. I have been deceived in the very same way. I have spent days wondering if I should be afraid of him or why he made me cry so, only to talk it over with him and realize that the emotional whiplash of the experience was the purpose, not the fear or the crying. I get wrapped up in my myopic perspective sometimes and miss the point. While I am working that out and until I come to a place of understanding, I come here to write.
That's my excuse. Yours is that you don't always get to see everything that goes on inside this relationship. That is understandable. I don't give you a running account of my whole life that would provide the context for much of what I do. But it is not my job to provide you with a comfortable experience every time and it is not my job to make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside every time. Many of you do feel comfortable and warm and fuzzy, judging from a great majority of the comments. For everyone else, I don't really owe you an explanation as I do not expect you to constantly explain yourselves to me, although I'd like to provide a little understanding from my end.
And that is the point of blogging after all. To open up my world to you so I feel less alone, and maybe open yours up to an experience that you have only dreamed about. Or to educate you about different perspectives or to educate me about my own limitations. I feel a profound amount of love and peace in my relationship and in my submission, and if you can grab on to even a tiny piece of that, then we will have connected in a meaningful way. All you have to do is open your heart and see that I have been here, pouring mine out all along.
Awoken
I got into my pajamas and brushed my teeth. The lights were already dimmed in my apartment and I was getting ready for bed. I brushed my hair and put moisturizer on my face. I settled under the covers with the air conditioner blowing toward the bed so I could fall asleep in cool comfort. I waited for Him to call to put me to bed.
And I waited.
And I waited.
Over the next two hours, I tossed and turned in bed. I got up and opened the windows, got back into bed, got up to close the windows, got back into bed. I went out to the couch to see if I could sleep there before slinking back into the bedroom. I checked my phone obsessively.
I started thinking about those people who have blood clots lurking in their bodies and how those blood clots move to their brains and they drop dead without warning. I started worrying about blood clots lurking in my body. I was fretting over all of the things that could kill me suddenly, immediately as I lay in bed. I was spinning out of control and why, oh why wouldn't He call?
Finally, at 1:30, He called. He had fallen asleep early and had accidentally missed my bedtime.
I was so upset by the time he called that I had a panic attack. That hasn't happened in a very long time and it was a frightening development. There was a time, more than seven years ago, when I had panic attacks every day. I was completely crippled by them. My life narrowed to the time between these attacks, minus the time anticipating an attack, minus the time to recover from an attack. I remember that year as one of constant, crushing anxiety. Almost all of my recollections from that year involve the bedroom in my campus apartment: me pacing the small space between the computer desk and the bed and the door, phone clasped to my ear, desperately pleading for someone to help me deal with the unbelievable pain.
In any case, this was just one panic attack. One. It did not recur in the following days and I feel just as strong as ever. The amazing thing about the experience was the way that He helped me through it. In the old days, I was so frustrated by my panic attacks because no one seemed to know how to help, especially not my boyfriend at the time. I was desperate for someone to just comfort me, or reassure me or something I couldn't then describe.
Who knew that being owned would give me the perfect tools to battle the devastation of a panic attack? My owner reassured me on every front - that I am owned, that I am loved, that he is taking care of me, that everything will be okay - and I believed him with all of my heart. After the panic subsided and I was left feeling depleted and tired, he had me continue to breathe deep and cuddle with my favorite stuffed animal so that I could relax. He stayed on the phone with me until I was nearly asleep and then quietly told me that he loved me.
I mumbled groggily, "I love my owner," before I put the phone down and finally drifted off to sleep.
And I waited.
And I waited.
Over the next two hours, I tossed and turned in bed. I got up and opened the windows, got back into bed, got up to close the windows, got back into bed. I went out to the couch to see if I could sleep there before slinking back into the bedroom. I checked my phone obsessively.
I started thinking about those people who have blood clots lurking in their bodies and how those blood clots move to their brains and they drop dead without warning. I started worrying about blood clots lurking in my body. I was fretting over all of the things that could kill me suddenly, immediately as I lay in bed. I was spinning out of control and why, oh why wouldn't He call?
Finally, at 1:30, He called. He had fallen asleep early and had accidentally missed my bedtime.
I was so upset by the time he called that I had a panic attack. That hasn't happened in a very long time and it was a frightening development. There was a time, more than seven years ago, when I had panic attacks every day. I was completely crippled by them. My life narrowed to the time between these attacks, minus the time anticipating an attack, minus the time to recover from an attack. I remember that year as one of constant, crushing anxiety. Almost all of my recollections from that year involve the bedroom in my campus apartment: me pacing the small space between the computer desk and the bed and the door, phone clasped to my ear, desperately pleading for someone to help me deal with the unbelievable pain.
In any case, this was just one panic attack. One. It did not recur in the following days and I feel just as strong as ever. The amazing thing about the experience was the way that He helped me through it. In the old days, I was so frustrated by my panic attacks because no one seemed to know how to help, especially not my boyfriend at the time. I was desperate for someone to just comfort me, or reassure me or something I couldn't then describe.
Who knew that being owned would give me the perfect tools to battle the devastation of a panic attack? My owner reassured me on every front - that I am owned, that I am loved, that he is taking care of me, that everything will be okay - and I believed him with all of my heart. After the panic subsided and I was left feeling depleted and tired, he had me continue to breathe deep and cuddle with my favorite stuffed animal so that I could relax. He stayed on the phone with me until I was nearly asleep and then quietly told me that he loved me.
I mumbled groggily, "I love my owner," before I put the phone down and finally drifted off to sleep.
Doppelganger
I think that He knows me better than anyone else in the world. And I like to think that I know more about him than anyone else, but there is still a part of him that is hidden from me. It is the deepest, most darkly sadistic version of himself, the part that he is hesitant to show me for fear that I will be too afraid of what I see.
Often when we are in the heat of the moment, he is coolly dispassionate. He steps back and surveys my naked body, he applies the belt strategically, he pauses. He is calm and professorial is his demeanor. He is having fun and, most importantly, he is completely collected.
In contrast, the other version of him is absolutely wild. It is unhinged, manic, rabid. I can tell when the other him has come out when I see his eyes. They are full of rage and hunger. They make me instantly afraid - of where the man I know has gone, of whether this other version of him will know where to stop, of my own capacity to take what he has to give. Sometimes I think that I can coax the reasonable, rational version of him out from behind the monster, but often that only makes him more excited. When he sees that his prey is scared and flailing, begging for mercy, he only sinks his teeth in more deeply and holds on more tightly.
Last Friday, I encountered this version of him unexpectedly. I was sucking his cock in the living room when he pulled me up roughly by my hair. I saw that evil glint in his eyes and I knew. I knew as he pushed me over the couch and fucked me hard, clawing at my back. I knew as he forced his cock into my mouth and choked me without mercy. I knew as he knocked me to the ground and hit me that he was out. There would be no caging him until he had his release.
Only after bending my legs back and fucking me until I cried and we both came did he relent. Then he went back into hiding, behind the calm facade of my owner. He lays there quietly, waiting for his chance to come out again.
Often when we are in the heat of the moment, he is coolly dispassionate. He steps back and surveys my naked body, he applies the belt strategically, he pauses. He is calm and professorial is his demeanor. He is having fun and, most importantly, he is completely collected.
In contrast, the other version of him is absolutely wild. It is unhinged, manic, rabid. I can tell when the other him has come out when I see his eyes. They are full of rage and hunger. They make me instantly afraid - of where the man I know has gone, of whether this other version of him will know where to stop, of my own capacity to take what he has to give. Sometimes I think that I can coax the reasonable, rational version of him out from behind the monster, but often that only makes him more excited. When he sees that his prey is scared and flailing, begging for mercy, he only sinks his teeth in more deeply and holds on more tightly.
Last Friday, I encountered this version of him unexpectedly. I was sucking his cock in the living room when he pulled me up roughly by my hair. I saw that evil glint in his eyes and I knew. I knew as he pushed me over the couch and fucked me hard, clawing at my back. I knew as he forced his cock into my mouth and choked me without mercy. I knew as he knocked me to the ground and hit me that he was out. There would be no caging him until he had his release.
Only after bending my legs back and fucking me until I cried and we both came did he relent. Then he went back into hiding, behind the calm facade of my owner. He lays there quietly, waiting for his chance to come out again.
Coming Out of the Silence
For a day or so after our intense argument early in the week, I was mostly quiet. I agreed with Him and generally went along with everything without complaint. I was still a bit scared of the man that I saw that night. I wasn't sure how to mesh that person with the sweet man who chauffeured me to a doctor's appointment, who made me coffee each morning, and who held my hand as we watched a scary movie. If anything, I thought maybe I had made part of that experience up, or that I had read the situation incorrectly? Because people certainly don't go from pinning down their girlfriends and telling them that they cannot ever leave to being sweet overnight, right?
I found myself thinking about what I should do at the end of the week. I could keep my intentions to myself and just head home, I could change my locks and drop off of the face of the earth. I love Him, but I thought thought I was supposed to be able to leave if I wanted. I thought that was the only rule. In our 24/7 dynamic, I thought that the choice to leave, to say "I withdraw my consent," was the only rule that we still had. I thought it was my last line of defense. But he wouldn't let me exercise it, so I didn't know where I stood.
We talked about it eventually. I told him how scared I was, how I didn't understand why what he did was okay. He recognized that it was an intense experience, but he didn't think anything was ever going to be normal with us. We could never just walk away from each other. We could never just put one another down and pretend like it didn't affect us to the very core level. He is right about that.
I told him that I didn't know how to process what had happened, only that I knew what he had done would have been unacceptable for anyone else's boyfriend. If one of my girlfriends came to me with this story (...all of it...), I'd probably tell her to run away. I kept feeling like that for days, focusing on the paradigm of the controlling boyfriend, until he stopped me short.
"I'm not your boyfriend. I OWN you. I know what is best for you and I will do whatever I want with you. Do you understand that now?"
I need to stop thinking of him as my boyfriend. That's what he is to the outside world, to the people at work and my family. But he's not my boyfriend, not really. I've been thinking a lot about the public/private aspects of our relationship and the cognitive dissonance that that divide causes for me. I remember all of the times when friends who know me as a Type A in-charge woman joked about how I probably wear the pants in the relationship while I looked down and he gripped the back of my neck tighter and tighter. We always laugh that off, but I'm a little bit sick of behaving one way in public and another way in private.
I used to think that part of the allure of my submission and all that comes with it is that it is taboo and wrong. I thought that I was thrilled by my little secret and even worried a bit about the lustre wearing off as the taboos became an acceptable part of my life. But that's not the case at all. The ruse of the "secret life" is exhausting and I hate it. I want to be who I am with him all of the time. I want to stop worrying about playing to my audience. I want for him to really be my owner 24/7 and I want people to know.
I've ventured off topic, but I feel like this is an important point. I got past the drama of that evening and we are back to normal. I did not leave and he will be letting himself into my apartment tonight as usual. But we are also back to keeping our relationship silent out of fear of whatever is out there. Out of our own desire for privacy, sure, but also out of a desire not to face the judgment of the world that tells us that what we are doing is wrong.
A Sadist's Lullabye
I held the phone in the dark. He cooed into my ear as I fell asleep:
I want to see you laying on the floor in front of me. I want to see that frightened look in your eyes.
I want to pick you up and toss you onto the bed like a rag doll.
When you begin to struggle and pull away, I want to slap you once, hard. I want you to know that it is pointless to fight me.
I want to hogtie you. I want your ankles and wrists bound together in the air. I want you completely helpless.
I want you to feel vulnerable as I stand over you. I want to see your cunt dripping with your fear.
I want to take you, any way I want, over and over. I want to use all of your holes. I want you completely open to me.
I want to see the resignation in your eyes when you realize that I can do anything to you.
I want to come all over your face. I want my come to dry on your lips. I want to leave you there, tasting me on your tongue.
Now, little Kitten. Time for bed.
Go to sleep like a good little girl and dream of all that I have planned for you. There's so much more than you even know.
I want to see you laying on the floor in front of me. I want to see that frightened look in your eyes.
I want to pick you up and toss you onto the bed like a rag doll.
When you begin to struggle and pull away, I want to slap you once, hard. I want you to know that it is pointless to fight me.
I want to hogtie you. I want your ankles and wrists bound together in the air. I want you completely helpless.
I want you to feel vulnerable as I stand over you. I want to see your cunt dripping with your fear.
I want to take you, any way I want, over and over. I want to use all of your holes. I want you completely open to me.
I want to see the resignation in your eyes when you realize that I can do anything to you.
I want to come all over your face. I want my come to dry on your lips. I want to leave you there, tasting me on your tongue.
Now, little Kitten. Time for bed.
Go to sleep like a good little girl and dream of all that I have planned for you. There's so much more than you even know.
Indiscretions
Ever since He joined Fetlife and took over my assignment, I feel like this blog isn't safe anymore. It is no longer the haven that I thought it once was. There is a blurring of real life and blog life going on right now and it is making me uncomfortable.
The strange thing is, is that he has never read the blog. He has been hands off this entire time and stressed that I should keep this as my own place. But because of that, he doesn't know what is at stake here. It is not just that I would rather not tell my family and friends about my predilections or that I do not want to be exposed at work. He doesn't know how much of my private self I have revealed in this space and how vulnerable it makes me feel to know that just anyone can find out these things about me.
I think it is also a bit unsafe. There are a lot of scary people out there on the internet. Who knows what a little lurking and creative Googling could lead to? I've been very careful to keep an invisible online presence in my real life, but I feel like he's exposing me and that makes me very uncomfortable.
I feel a bit off balance right now because I need to work out some things about this assignment and this experience, but I know that everyone involved (except for Him!) is free to come here and read my inner thoughts. I'm confused about sharing us with another woman and what that means for our relationship, and what monogamy vs. an open relationship means to us, but I can't talk about that here anymore. I can't reveal those insecurities or those weaknesses to the world when the world can interact with me in person.
This blog is protection to me. It is distance. It is not that close to the core of who I am at the same time as it is the place that is the most authentic me. I do not want to censor myself here and I do not want to hide from my own sanctuary. I don't know what to do, whether I should throw caution to the wind or whether I should batten down the hatches and cover my head in fear.
I do not want to lose this blog. I do not want to abandon all of the work that I have put in here. I do not want to cut off my ability to work out my issues in a place that is safe for me, among people who understand me. At the same time, I cannot be this person in the real world. I just cannot, for so many reasons. I have too much to lose.
The strange thing is, is that he has never read the blog. He has been hands off this entire time and stressed that I should keep this as my own place. But because of that, he doesn't know what is at stake here. It is not just that I would rather not tell my family and friends about my predilections or that I do not want to be exposed at work. He doesn't know how much of my private self I have revealed in this space and how vulnerable it makes me feel to know that just anyone can find out these things about me.
I think it is also a bit unsafe. There are a lot of scary people out there on the internet. Who knows what a little lurking and creative Googling could lead to? I've been very careful to keep an invisible online presence in my real life, but I feel like he's exposing me and that makes me very uncomfortable.
I feel a bit off balance right now because I need to work out some things about this assignment and this experience, but I know that everyone involved (except for Him!) is free to come here and read my inner thoughts. I'm confused about sharing us with another woman and what that means for our relationship, and what monogamy vs. an open relationship means to us, but I can't talk about that here anymore. I can't reveal those insecurities or those weaknesses to the world when the world can interact with me in person.
This blog is protection to me. It is distance. It is not that close to the core of who I am at the same time as it is the place that is the most authentic me. I do not want to censor myself here and I do not want to hide from my own sanctuary. I don't know what to do, whether I should throw caution to the wind or whether I should batten down the hatches and cover my head in fear.
I do not want to lose this blog. I do not want to abandon all of the work that I have put in here. I do not want to cut off my ability to work out my issues in a place that is safe for me, among people who understand me. At the same time, I cannot be this person in the real world. I just cannot, for so many reasons. I have too much to lose.
First Night
I waited all day to see Him. I was restless the whole day, unable to relax or sit still. When he finally arrived, I was already opening the door before he could put his key in the lock. I shuffled my feet and looked at the ground as he stared at me with a smile on his face. I was so nervous. I was worried about feeling different after our time apart. I was worried that his pent-up aggression would overwhelm me and that he would hurt me too much. He pushed his way into the apartment.
We stood in the kitchen and he touched the back of my neck. He gripped it in one large hand and put his other hand against my cheek. He looked down at me and my breath grew ragged. I was scared. I almost couldn't hold all of it inside of me. The way he was looking at me, almost like he was about to devour me. We kissed, slowly, pulling away to take deep shuddering breaths. Each time our lips touched, I could feel him tremble.
He led me to the couch, where he took off my clothes and spread my legs open. He brought me quickly to orgasm with the very tips of his fingers. He kept his mouth against mine the whole time. He was gentle but insistent as he put me on my knees in front of him, and then as he lifted me onto his lap so I could straddle him, and then as he carried me into the bedroom. He hadn't taken his hand off the back of my neck the entire time. He was holding me to him, secure.
"Are you ready for more, Kitten?," he asked as I lifted my head off of his shoulder and he laid me down on the bed. I nodded yes. What was coming next?
There was an amazingly passionate embrace, one that gripped me on the inside until I was shaking my head in disbelief. He came inside me and I whispered in his ear, "I've never felt this way before. How is this possible?" Nothing had changed between us. Nothing could shake our foundation, not the distance, not the stress of the separation or what had happened while I was gone.
Then the ground shifted. I told him, quietly, that I needed him to hurt me. Before I knew it, he was slapping my face, hard. He forced two fingers into my asshole and forced another three into my pussy. He hit me again and again. I offered my face to him until I couldn't, until the blows themselves started to scare me. How could he hit me so hard without bruising something? One of these days, wouldn't my cheekbone just shatter? I was afraid of being hurt and of people seeing the evidence. How would I explain why I had a black eye? But didn't I also want to see the evidence and carry it with me, wearing it like a badge that everyone could see?
I started crying and pulling away and he kept hitting me. My sobs were all pent up inside of me and they wouldn't come out. I was hyperventilating. The tears were streaming but I couldn't let my breath out. I kept sucking air in, in, as the pressure in my chest grew.
"Let it out, Kitten. You're safe with me. You're home with me," He ordered as he shook my shoulders. The sobs finally came out in a torrent. I released two weeks worth of missing him and feeling lost and of fighting on my own. I floated away on those tears, right back to my place at his feet. I felt the soft numbness of my submission descend over me. When he came on my face, I didn't flinch. I could only smile.
We stood in the kitchen and he touched the back of my neck. He gripped it in one large hand and put his other hand against my cheek. He looked down at me and my breath grew ragged. I was scared. I almost couldn't hold all of it inside of me. The way he was looking at me, almost like he was about to devour me. We kissed, slowly, pulling away to take deep shuddering breaths. Each time our lips touched, I could feel him tremble.
He led me to the couch, where he took off my clothes and spread my legs open. He brought me quickly to orgasm with the very tips of his fingers. He kept his mouth against mine the whole time. He was gentle but insistent as he put me on my knees in front of him, and then as he lifted me onto his lap so I could straddle him, and then as he carried me into the bedroom. He hadn't taken his hand off the back of my neck the entire time. He was holding me to him, secure.
"Are you ready for more, Kitten?," he asked as I lifted my head off of his shoulder and he laid me down on the bed. I nodded yes. What was coming next?
There was an amazingly passionate embrace, one that gripped me on the inside until I was shaking my head in disbelief. He came inside me and I whispered in his ear, "I've never felt this way before. How is this possible?" Nothing had changed between us. Nothing could shake our foundation, not the distance, not the stress of the separation or what had happened while I was gone.
Then the ground shifted. I told him, quietly, that I needed him to hurt me. Before I knew it, he was slapping my face, hard. He forced two fingers into my asshole and forced another three into my pussy. He hit me again and again. I offered my face to him until I couldn't, until the blows themselves started to scare me. How could he hit me so hard without bruising something? One of these days, wouldn't my cheekbone just shatter? I was afraid of being hurt and of people seeing the evidence. How would I explain why I had a black eye? But didn't I also want to see the evidence and carry it with me, wearing it like a badge that everyone could see?
I started crying and pulling away and he kept hitting me. My sobs were all pent up inside of me and they wouldn't come out. I was hyperventilating. The tears were streaming but I couldn't let my breath out. I kept sucking air in, in, as the pressure in my chest grew.
"Let it out, Kitten. You're safe with me. You're home with me," He ordered as he shook my shoulders. The sobs finally came out in a torrent. I released two weeks worth of missing him and feeling lost and of fighting on my own. I floated away on those tears, right back to my place at his feet. I felt the soft numbness of my submission descend over me. When he came on my face, I didn't flinch. I could only smile.
Darkness
He put me on my knees next to the bed. It was dark in his bedroom, with only a small sliver of light coming in through the window. I looked up at him, waiting to serve him, waiting for direction. The light fell across his chest but his face remained in shadow. I couldn't see his features. I couldn't see his eyes to tell me what he had planned for me. I trembled slightly in fear.
He took out his cock and I opened my mouth in anticipation. He slid his cock into my waiting mouth. I sucked on him and kept my eyes on his face. He leaned down to smooth my hair back from my face and suddenly the light hit his face. His eyes were dark and he had that intense look on his face.
He started thrusting into my mouth faster, fucking my face. I relaxed my jaw and kept still as he moved in my mouth. I looked up at him with wide eyes. He was using me as his toy.
He pulled out of my mouth and lifted me back onto the bed. As he lifted my legs onto his shoulders and took me, his face fell back into shadow. He fucked me and whispered his depraved fantasies into the silent room. His voice was all around me, I could feel him inside me, but he stayed in the dark.
He took out his cock and I opened my mouth in anticipation. He slid his cock into my waiting mouth. I sucked on him and kept my eyes on his face. He leaned down to smooth my hair back from my face and suddenly the light hit his face. His eyes were dark and he had that intense look on his face.
He started thrusting into my mouth faster, fucking my face. I relaxed my jaw and kept still as he moved in my mouth. I looked up at him with wide eyes. He was using me as his toy.
He pulled out of my mouth and lifted me back onto the bed. As he lifted my legs onto his shoulders and took me, his face fell back into shadow. He fucked me and whispered his depraved fantasies into the silent room. His voice was all around me, I could feel him inside me, but he stayed in the dark.
Silence
I was on my hands and knees in the living room. He was behind me, thrusting into me roughly. I moaned loudly.
"Stop it, Kitten." I whimpered in protest, but he was having none of it. "Your job is to stay still and shut the fuck up." He pulled roughly back on my hair. "You're not that independent girl when you're here with me. Right now your job is what?"
"To keep still," I muttered.
"And?," he prompted.
"To shut the fuck up," I said reluctantly. He kept fucking me, harder and harder. I kept quiet and bit back my moans.
"Do you want to come, little Kitten?"
I was afraid to say anything so I just nodded feverishly. I was so close to exploding.
"You can come. Come for me, little girl, come for me." That was all it took. I came long and hard and with great intensity.
He picked me up off of the floor and marched me into the bedroom. I stayed quiet while he took me again and again. I know my place.
"Stop it, Kitten." I whimpered in protest, but he was having none of it. "Your job is to stay still and shut the fuck up." He pulled roughly back on my hair. "You're not that independent girl when you're here with me. Right now your job is what?"
"To keep still," I muttered.
"And?," he prompted.
"To shut the fuck up," I said reluctantly. He kept fucking me, harder and harder. I kept quiet and bit back my moans.
"Do you want to come, little Kitten?"
I was afraid to say anything so I just nodded feverishly. I was so close to exploding.
"You can come. Come for me, little girl, come for me." That was all it took. I came long and hard and with great intensity.
He picked me up off of the floor and marched me into the bedroom. I stayed quiet while he took me again and again. I know my place.
Comfort
There is this feeling when He is fucking me hard and overwhelming me with sensation. It starts as a quiet hum in my head as he throws me around and starts to slap my face. It increases to a roar as the belt comes down and I dissolve into tears. I am incapable of rational thought at that point, my mind is a mess of chaos. All I can do is act on pure instinct - to scramble away, turn my face, flinch at the sight of his palm.
That instinct, however, is muddled by my love for him and the protector role that he fulfills in my life. He hits me and I am immediately pulled in two directions at once - run or turn to Him for comfort. I don't know which to do, or even whether he will offer me his shoulder to curl upon on from one moment to the next. But when I reach the overload point, the point where I am afraid that I will shatter, the little girl inside of me just wants him to save me, save me from the mean man, save me from Him.
Recently, He pinned me underneath him and hoisted my legs up on his shoulders. My head was hanging off the edge of the bed. The blood was rushing to my head, the white noise in my mind was almost deafening. He noticed that I was holding onto the sheets underneath him to keep my position and he demanded that I let go.
My arms flailed in space. He gripped me by the neck, simultaneously hold me in place and choking me. My body was numb from the sensation of him fucking me furiously. It didn't hurt anymore. Everything was white. If I cried out at that moment, the sound came from my most primal, unconscious place.
I reached back and felt the floor with my fingertips. I don't know what I was trying to do, but my fingers fell on the leg of my favorite stuffed animal - a pink stuffed pig that I sleep with every night when he is not with me. I gripped the animal tightly in my hand as assaulted my body, eventually dragging the animal closer so that I could touch it with both hands. My eyes were closed. I was whispering to myself, repeating the word "Daddy" over and over again in some sort of bizarre mantra or request for reprieve.
When he saw that I was clutching the stuffed animal, he relented. He lifted me back up onto the bed and held me. "That's enough for now, " he whispered, "Good girl." He was once again my protector. I held onto him for comfort and he brought me back down to earth.
That instinct, however, is muddled by my love for him and the protector role that he fulfills in my life. He hits me and I am immediately pulled in two directions at once - run or turn to Him for comfort. I don't know which to do, or even whether he will offer me his shoulder to curl upon on from one moment to the next. But when I reach the overload point, the point where I am afraid that I will shatter, the little girl inside of me just wants him to save me, save me from the mean man, save me from Him.
Recently, He pinned me underneath him and hoisted my legs up on his shoulders. My head was hanging off the edge of the bed. The blood was rushing to my head, the white noise in my mind was almost deafening. He noticed that I was holding onto the sheets underneath him to keep my position and he demanded that I let go.
My arms flailed in space. He gripped me by the neck, simultaneously hold me in place and choking me. My body was numb from the sensation of him fucking me furiously. It didn't hurt anymore. Everything was white. If I cried out at that moment, the sound came from my most primal, unconscious place.
I reached back and felt the floor with my fingertips. I don't know what I was trying to do, but my fingers fell on the leg of my favorite stuffed animal - a pink stuffed pig that I sleep with every night when he is not with me. I gripped the animal tightly in my hand as assaulted my body, eventually dragging the animal closer so that I could touch it with both hands. My eyes were closed. I was whispering to myself, repeating the word "Daddy" over and over again in some sort of bizarre mantra or request for reprieve.
When he saw that I was clutching the stuffed animal, he relented. He lifted me back up onto the bed and held me. "That's enough for now, " he whispered, "Good girl." He was once again my protector. I held onto him for comfort and he brought me back down to earth.
Fight
He pulled the anal beads out of me slowly. I moaned, my pussy and my ass extremely sensitive from the massive orgasm that he had just drawn out of me. I laid on my back in the middle of the bed. I needed a moment to gather myself.
But he wasn't in a patient mood.
He grabbed my ankles with one hand and pulled them straight up in the air, lifting my ass off of the ground. He touched his fingers to my asshole to feel if it was still lubed up from the beads. He dropped my ankles to reach for the bottle of lube on the night table for his cock. As soon as he released me, I skittered to the far corner of the bed away from him and curled my legs up in front of me. I couldn't take him in my ass at that moment. I wasn't ready.
When he turned back and saw me cowering, he shook his head and growled. He reached out for my ankles and dragged me back to the middle of the bed. My arms flailed and I tried to hold onto the sheets to keep him from pulling me to him.
"Get back here," he ordered, but I just couldn't face him. As he pulled my legs up by the ankles again, I started squirming and begging him to stop. I put my palms and the soles of my feet against his stomach to try to prevent him from thrusting into me. He wrestled with me as I tried to push him away.
I realized that the more I fought him, the worse I was probably making things for myself. He was angry and increasingly aggressive. In an attempt to avoid taking it in the ass, had I incited him to fuck me there harder? But I couldn't stop. I was so afraid and the only thought - if it was a coherent thought and not just a gut instinct - was to get away.
As I fought him harder, he seemed to take perverse joy in overpowering me again and again. At one point, I think he let me go just to toy with me, to see how quickly he could bring me back under his control again. He wrestled me to the point where I was pinned beneath him, hands and feet up in a defensive position. He looked me right in the eyes.
"Kitten, relax," he said quietly yet sternly. I struggled again in vain. "Kitten, stop it!," he yelled. I stopped and closed my eyes. "Open your eyes," he said immediately. I took a deep breath and looked at him.
"I want you to let go of me with your hands. Put your hands behind your head." I paused, considering what he'd do if I relinquished my defensive position. I slowly took my hands off of him and put them behind my head.
"Good girl," he sighed. "Now, stretch out your legs and put them on my shoulders." I hesitated. He wanted me to let go of my final layer of defense. "Kitten, now," he coaxed. I took a deep breath and put my legs up. He immediately slid into my ass, pushing down on my body as he leaned into me. I gasped in surprise and a tear slid down the side of my face. "Good girl," he soothed as he pumped into me.
But after a few thrusts, he let go of me. I must have look surprised as he laid down next to my shaking body. What had just happened?
"Kitten, you know I don't want to hurt you. But I did want to see that moment when you let go and trusted me." I blinked and bit my lip in an attempt not to cry. He was testing me all along. Stupid, stupid girl. He was testing me.
"You've been away and focused on a lot of other things the past few weeks, right?" He turned to look at me and I nodded. He looked back up at the ceiling. "Well, now you're back here with me and I think you need to refocus. You've been out of your element and you just need to be retrained a little bit."
He turned on his side to look at me. I was quivering, trying to hold my shame and disappointment in myself on the inside but I was failing miserably. More and more tears were leaking down the sides of my face.
"Oh, little one, don't cry. You just needed a reminder," he cooed as wiped away my tears. "You needed to feel me over you and to feel yourself letting go."
I sniffled and my breathing calmed. "Are you mad at me?," I whispered in my smallest voice.
He laughed softly. "Of course not. I am happy to see that you're finally back with me." He pulled me to him and kissed the top of my head. "Now, up on your hands and knees..."
But he wasn't in a patient mood.
He grabbed my ankles with one hand and pulled them straight up in the air, lifting my ass off of the ground. He touched his fingers to my asshole to feel if it was still lubed up from the beads. He dropped my ankles to reach for the bottle of lube on the night table for his cock. As soon as he released me, I skittered to the far corner of the bed away from him and curled my legs up in front of me. I couldn't take him in my ass at that moment. I wasn't ready.
When he turned back and saw me cowering, he shook his head and growled. He reached out for my ankles and dragged me back to the middle of the bed. My arms flailed and I tried to hold onto the sheets to keep him from pulling me to him.
"Get back here," he ordered, but I just couldn't face him. As he pulled my legs up by the ankles again, I started squirming and begging him to stop. I put my palms and the soles of my feet against his stomach to try to prevent him from thrusting into me. He wrestled with me as I tried to push him away.
I realized that the more I fought him, the worse I was probably making things for myself. He was angry and increasingly aggressive. In an attempt to avoid taking it in the ass, had I incited him to fuck me there harder? But I couldn't stop. I was so afraid and the only thought - if it was a coherent thought and not just a gut instinct - was to get away.
As I fought him harder, he seemed to take perverse joy in overpowering me again and again. At one point, I think he let me go just to toy with me, to see how quickly he could bring me back under his control again. He wrestled me to the point where I was pinned beneath him, hands and feet up in a defensive position. He looked me right in the eyes.
"Kitten, relax," he said quietly yet sternly. I struggled again in vain. "Kitten, stop it!," he yelled. I stopped and closed my eyes. "Open your eyes," he said immediately. I took a deep breath and looked at him.
"I want you to let go of me with your hands. Put your hands behind your head." I paused, considering what he'd do if I relinquished my defensive position. I slowly took my hands off of him and put them behind my head.
"Good girl," he sighed. "Now, stretch out your legs and put them on my shoulders." I hesitated. He wanted me to let go of my final layer of defense. "Kitten, now," he coaxed. I took a deep breath and put my legs up. He immediately slid into my ass, pushing down on my body as he leaned into me. I gasped in surprise and a tear slid down the side of my face. "Good girl," he soothed as he pumped into me.
But after a few thrusts, he let go of me. I must have look surprised as he laid down next to my shaking body. What had just happened?
"Kitten, you know I don't want to hurt you. But I did want to see that moment when you let go and trusted me." I blinked and bit my lip in an attempt not to cry. He was testing me all along. Stupid, stupid girl. He was testing me.
"You've been away and focused on a lot of other things the past few weeks, right?" He turned to look at me and I nodded. He looked back up at the ceiling. "Well, now you're back here with me and I think you need to refocus. You've been out of your element and you just need to be retrained a little bit."
He turned on his side to look at me. I was quivering, trying to hold my shame and disappointment in myself on the inside but I was failing miserably. More and more tears were leaking down the sides of my face.
"Oh, little one, don't cry. You just needed a reminder," he cooed as wiped away my tears. "You needed to feel me over you and to feel yourself letting go."
I sniffled and my breathing calmed. "Are you mad at me?," I whispered in my smallest voice.
He laughed softly. "Of course not. I am happy to see that you're finally back with me." He pulled me to him and kissed the top of my head. "Now, up on your hands and knees..."
Crawl, Part II
I knelt on the bathroom floor, naked and shaking in the darkness. I started to sob, crouching there on my hands and knees, alone. I couldn't believe how low I had sunk, how degraded I had become. Look what He had done to me, what I gave him my submission to let him do to me. How had I arrived at this place?
*****
He was choking me, holding my throat tightly as he fucked me hard.
"Tell me you love being choked while I fuck you," he demanded. I couldn't get any words out. When I hesitated, he slapped my face hard. "Tell me, now."
"I love it," I murmured. He slapped me again.
"Louder," he ordered. "Speak up when you're talking to me."
"I love it," I sobbed.
I was still sniffling when he had me suck his cock. He choked me on it again and again, making my eyes water and my nose run even more. I was having trouble breathing and needed a tissue.
"May I please get a tissue?" I knew enough by now to ask for permission.
"No, keep sucking it," and he pushed my head back down. I couldn't believe that he said no because he never had before.
After a few minutes of sucking his cock with his hand on the back of my head, he let me up to get a tissue. He let me walk there.
But when I got to the bathroom, I heard him call out to me. "Crawl back in here to me."
*****
That's how I ended up crouched on the bathroom floor, faced with the prospect of crawling back to him. I don't know what it was about crawling that seemed impossible to me at that moment. I just felt like it was too much, too degrading, too much to ask of me. We had reached a plateau in my submission some time ago and I had been fine for weeks, but suddenly we were climbing again. The climb was steep and I wasn't sure I could make it.
I knelt there, naked and cold, all alone. But what choice did I have? This was submission, there was no choice for me today. I crawled back to him and faced what I had coming to me.
*****
He was choking me, holding my throat tightly as he fucked me hard.
"Tell me you love being choked while I fuck you," he demanded. I couldn't get any words out. When I hesitated, he slapped my face hard. "Tell me, now."
"I love it," I murmured. He slapped me again.
"Louder," he ordered. "Speak up when you're talking to me."
"I love it," I sobbed.
I was still sniffling when he had me suck his cock. He choked me on it again and again, making my eyes water and my nose run even more. I was having trouble breathing and needed a tissue.
"May I please get a tissue?" I knew enough by now to ask for permission.
"No, keep sucking it," and he pushed my head back down. I couldn't believe that he said no because he never had before.
After a few minutes of sucking his cock with his hand on the back of my head, he let me up to get a tissue. He let me walk there.
But when I got to the bathroom, I heard him call out to me. "Crawl back in here to me."
*****
That's how I ended up crouched on the bathroom floor, faced with the prospect of crawling back to him. I don't know what it was about crawling that seemed impossible to me at that moment. I just felt like it was too much, too degrading, too much to ask of me. We had reached a plateau in my submission some time ago and I had been fine for weeks, but suddenly we were climbing again. The climb was steep and I wasn't sure I could make it.
I knelt there, naked and cold, all alone. But what choice did I have? This was submission, there was no choice for me today. I crawled back to him and faced what I had coming to me.
Passenger Seat
He drove me home after a late dinner and pulled up in front of my apartment. He parked in front of a driveway because he wasn't going to come in. I had to get to sleep for an early day at work the next day. He kissed me goodnight, but I lingered. I didn't want to get out of the car and go to bed all by myself. I was still recovering from my punishment earlier in the week and was feeling a bit clingy. I knew he felt it too because he continued to hold me tight to his chest and whisper that he didn't want to let me go.
We kissed goodnight again and again, our kisses becoming longer and deeper. I nibbled on his bottom lip and he moaned softly in response. I realized that I had woken the beast. He reached down and unbuttoned my jeans. He slid his hand into my panties and sighed dramatically when he discovered how wet his kisses had made me. He pulled my jeans down my hips just a few inches and put his hand back into my panties. I looked straight ahead and tried to relax into the feeling of his fingers on my pussy.
He pulled his hand out of my panties and put his fingers up to my face. I opened my mouth to suck on his fingers like he trained me to do, but instead he smeared my wetness all over my lips and cheeks. He stared deep into my eyes and wound his right hand into my hair.
"Do you want to get fucked right now?," he asked quietly. (He always asks what I want because he loves to hear how hungry I am for him. But whether he gives me what I want is a whole other story.) I nodded, wondering if he was going to take me inside or make me fuck him in the back seat of the car.
"Hmm...," he murmured and I could see the wheels turning. He was considering what to do with me. He slowly pushed my head down onto his lap, where I kissed the crotch of his jeans. I could feel his cock hard underneath the fabric. I let him push my head up and down, foolishly thinking that if I showed him how willing I was to mime the act that he wouldn't make me suck his cock right then and there.
He pulled my head up and stared at me again. I looked up at him, hopeful that he would tell me that I was a good girl and send me inside. Instead, he pushed me back against the passenger seat and roughly groped my breasts. With his right hand still holding my hair, he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled out his cock. He angled my head down toward it.
"Be a good girl now," he cooed as I pulled against him. I didn't want to resist him. I couldn't say no without displeasing him, but at that moment I didn't want do this with him in the car. He had already pushed me so far that week. I didn't think I could take any more.
"Kitten. Now," he said sternly. I looked around at the empty street and acquiesced. Maybe he would just make me put my mouth on it briefly. Surely, he wouldn't make me suck his cock until he came. Not in the front seat of the car. Right?
I leaned over and took him in my mouth. I strained my neck to the street to see if anyone would see me. My head was below the driver's side window, but someone walking by on the sidewalk would see me leaning over with my pants partway down. I was especially afraid of being approached by a police officer since we were illegally parked. If an officer walked up to the car, there is no doubt that I would be exposed.
As I sucked him, he pushed down on my head. "Don't look up, just look at my cock. I see you looking out. Stop that. I'll keep an eye out," he said in a voice that I didn't find reassuring. He's a boundary-pusher and I wasn't sure that he'd be as cautious as I wanted him to be.
He pushed his hips up so I could take him deeper in my mouth, but that just brought my head up to where I would be even more visible. I whimpered in fear and he just pushed my head down again. He was getting closer to coming, but I could tell that he was holding back, prolonging my discomfort. I just wanted to stop and I whined briefly about how I was uncomfortable. He ignored my plaintive noises and held my face in position, moving my head up and down his cock. He was close now. I could tell by his breathing and the way he was moaning my name. I was worried that the noise he was making would attract attention and I continued to attempt to scan the street for observers. At the last moment, he pushed my head down hard. "Take every drop of my cum. Don't miss one drop," he exclaimed as he came down my throat.
I sat up quickly, brushing the saliva from my cheek. I was shaking as I pulled up my pants and buttoned them. He pulled me against his shoulder and smoothed down my hair. "You are such a good girl. You did such a good job for me," he sighed. He was proud of me. Why didn't I feel better about that? This had been a fantasy of mine - it was supposed to be fun. But I was too worried. I had been braver in my own mind than I was in real life.
I went into the apartment alone and sat in the dark. It was late but I wasn't tired anymore. I finally fell into a fitful sleep on the couch and dreamt about Him. He had me on a leash and was leading me though a series of rooms, each room darker than the one before. The rooms were endless. He pulled me through the inky darkness. I followed him, afraid of where he was taking me. I couldn't see anything up ahead.
We kissed goodnight again and again, our kisses becoming longer and deeper. I nibbled on his bottom lip and he moaned softly in response. I realized that I had woken the beast. He reached down and unbuttoned my jeans. He slid his hand into my panties and sighed dramatically when he discovered how wet his kisses had made me. He pulled my jeans down my hips just a few inches and put his hand back into my panties. I looked straight ahead and tried to relax into the feeling of his fingers on my pussy.
He pulled his hand out of my panties and put his fingers up to my face. I opened my mouth to suck on his fingers like he trained me to do, but instead he smeared my wetness all over my lips and cheeks. He stared deep into my eyes and wound his right hand into my hair.
"Do you want to get fucked right now?," he asked quietly. (He always asks what I want because he loves to hear how hungry I am for him. But whether he gives me what I want is a whole other story.) I nodded, wondering if he was going to take me inside or make me fuck him in the back seat of the car.
"Hmm...," he murmured and I could see the wheels turning. He was considering what to do with me. He slowly pushed my head down onto his lap, where I kissed the crotch of his jeans. I could feel his cock hard underneath the fabric. I let him push my head up and down, foolishly thinking that if I showed him how willing I was to mime the act that he wouldn't make me suck his cock right then and there.
He pulled my head up and stared at me again. I looked up at him, hopeful that he would tell me that I was a good girl and send me inside. Instead, he pushed me back against the passenger seat and roughly groped my breasts. With his right hand still holding my hair, he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled out his cock. He angled my head down toward it.
"Be a good girl now," he cooed as I pulled against him. I didn't want to resist him. I couldn't say no without displeasing him, but at that moment I didn't want do this with him in the car. He had already pushed me so far that week. I didn't think I could take any more.
"Kitten. Now," he said sternly. I looked around at the empty street and acquiesced. Maybe he would just make me put my mouth on it briefly. Surely, he wouldn't make me suck his cock until he came. Not in the front seat of the car. Right?
I leaned over and took him in my mouth. I strained my neck to the street to see if anyone would see me. My head was below the driver's side window, but someone walking by on the sidewalk would see me leaning over with my pants partway down. I was especially afraid of being approached by a police officer since we were illegally parked. If an officer walked up to the car, there is no doubt that I would be exposed.
As I sucked him, he pushed down on my head. "Don't look up, just look at my cock. I see you looking out. Stop that. I'll keep an eye out," he said in a voice that I didn't find reassuring. He's a boundary-pusher and I wasn't sure that he'd be as cautious as I wanted him to be.
He pushed his hips up so I could take him deeper in my mouth, but that just brought my head up to where I would be even more visible. I whimpered in fear and he just pushed my head down again. He was getting closer to coming, but I could tell that he was holding back, prolonging my discomfort. I just wanted to stop and I whined briefly about how I was uncomfortable. He ignored my plaintive noises and held my face in position, moving my head up and down his cock. He was close now. I could tell by his breathing and the way he was moaning my name. I was worried that the noise he was making would attract attention and I continued to attempt to scan the street for observers. At the last moment, he pushed my head down hard. "Take every drop of my cum. Don't miss one drop," he exclaimed as he came down my throat.
I sat up quickly, brushing the saliva from my cheek. I was shaking as I pulled up my pants and buttoned them. He pulled me against his shoulder and smoothed down my hair. "You are such a good girl. You did such a good job for me," he sighed. He was proud of me. Why didn't I feel better about that? This had been a fantasy of mine - it was supposed to be fun. But I was too worried. I had been braver in my own mind than I was in real life.
I went into the apartment alone and sat in the dark. It was late but I wasn't tired anymore. I finally fell into a fitful sleep on the couch and dreamt about Him. He had me on a leash and was leading me though a series of rooms, each room darker than the one before. The rooms were endless. He pulled me through the inky darkness. I followed him, afraid of where he was taking me. I couldn't see anything up ahead.
His only
I was an anal virgin when I met Him. I wasn't a meek girl in my previous life, not in the least, but I had never had anal sex, not even with a long-term boyfriend. I always wanted to in theory, but every time there was a cock pressing at my asshole, I chickened out.
I thought I should have had anal sex by my age. It seemed like everyone and their mother had taken it up the ass, no problem, and I was the only baby left. So yeah, I lied about it to partners and peers, all the while avoiding the big A.
But there was no obfuscation when it came to Him. I couldn't bluff my way through it with him. He's not a schoolboy and I'm not in charge any more. He's a dominant and anal service is de rigeur, expected. It's part of being a submissive that I want and that I finally had to face up to.
So one night while he was talking dirty in my ear, I buried my face in the pillow and told him that I had never had anal sex. He looked almost pleased with himself because he had elicited such a girlish confession from me. He loved the idea that no one had been in my ass before, that I had been saving it for him. That seemed so odd to me since I had spent the past 10 years trying to overcome my sexual inexperience. Suddenly, my one innocence was of considerable value to Him.
He was gentle with me, but he had a plan. He was going to train me, teach me to take him little by little. He'd use everything at his disposal to work me up to his cock - first his fingers, then beads, a plug - until I could learn to love every inch of him in my ass.
The first time, I was curled up with him after coming again and again. He was stretched out behind me, kissing my neck and running his hands over my hips. I coyly scooted back into his crotch and felt his surprising hardness against the softness of my buttocks. I heard a small intake of breath and he paused.
His hands were busy for a moment while he turned away from me, but when he turned back and pressed against me, I could feel that his cock was slick with lube. As he pushed against my asshole, he whispered, "Just the head, Kitten," as if to speak at full volume would break the spell and, with it, my resolve. He pressed firmly, inserting himself only a few inches before pausing to listen to my shallow breaths.
The rest he left up to me.
"Kitten, push back when you're ready," he cooed softly into my ear through my hair. And as he kissed and nibbled on the back of my shoulder, that's exactly what I did. I took a deep breath and felt myself open up for him until I was full.
I could only take a few thrusts that first night and I'm still not trained enough for a good ass-pounding. But I'm getting better every time, taking more of him and pushing past the overwhelming intensity to come harder than I thought I could. He has been so patient, but I worry that his patience with me will eventually run out. How long will it be before he doesn't let me stop when it gets to be too much, when he decides when I've had enough? There's a part of me that is frightened...and then there's a darker part of me that wants my time to run out.
I thought I should have had anal sex by my age. It seemed like everyone and their mother had taken it up the ass, no problem, and I was the only baby left. So yeah, I lied about it to partners and peers, all the while avoiding the big A.
But there was no obfuscation when it came to Him. I couldn't bluff my way through it with him. He's not a schoolboy and I'm not in charge any more. He's a dominant and anal service is de rigeur, expected. It's part of being a submissive that I want and that I finally had to face up to.
So one night while he was talking dirty in my ear, I buried my face in the pillow and told him that I had never had anal sex. He looked almost pleased with himself because he had elicited such a girlish confession from me. He loved the idea that no one had been in my ass before, that I had been saving it for him. That seemed so odd to me since I had spent the past 10 years trying to overcome my sexual inexperience. Suddenly, my one innocence was of considerable value to Him.
He was gentle with me, but he had a plan. He was going to train me, teach me to take him little by little. He'd use everything at his disposal to work me up to his cock - first his fingers, then beads, a plug - until I could learn to love every inch of him in my ass.
The first time, I was curled up with him after coming again and again. He was stretched out behind me, kissing my neck and running his hands over my hips. I coyly scooted back into his crotch and felt his surprising hardness against the softness of my buttocks. I heard a small intake of breath and he paused.
His hands were busy for a moment while he turned away from me, but when he turned back and pressed against me, I could feel that his cock was slick with lube. As he pushed against my asshole, he whispered, "Just the head, Kitten," as if to speak at full volume would break the spell and, with it, my resolve. He pressed firmly, inserting himself only a few inches before pausing to listen to my shallow breaths.
The rest he left up to me.
"Kitten, push back when you're ready," he cooed softly into my ear through my hair. And as he kissed and nibbled on the back of my shoulder, that's exactly what I did. I took a deep breath and felt myself open up for him until I was full.
I could only take a few thrusts that first night and I'm still not trained enough for a good ass-pounding. But I'm getting better every time, taking more of him and pushing past the overwhelming intensity to come harder than I thought I could. He has been so patient, but I worry that his patience with me will eventually run out. How long will it be before he doesn't let me stop when it gets to be too much, when he decides when I've had enough? There's a part of me that is frightened...and then there's a darker part of me that wants my time to run out.
Choke
Things with Him escalated very quickly once we started. We didn't sit around for weeks making lists of won'ts or talking about limits. He just started taking things from me that I never knew that I wanted to give up. He just did. Anything that I was uncomfortable with became part of my submission - how deep would I go to please him? How far down the rabbit hole?
He was over me, fucking me deep with my legs around his waist, glowering down and me and telling me to take his cock, all of it. Occasionally, he'd roll me onto my side and continue fucking me with one of my legs thrown over his hip, then he'd force me back onto my back. At one point, he rolled me onto my side again and held my face at arm's length, turning it from side to side. He considered it, murmuring, "What a good little slut you are for me, Kitten."
He slid his hand down to my neck. His large hand covered the entire front of my neck from my chin to my collarbone. I felt him tighten his grip as he fucked me harder. His eyes were burning black, burning into me as my eyes widened in fear. Tighter, he held me tighter by the neck and I put my hands up to his, gripping them.
I wasn't choking, exactly - I could still breathe if I could stop freaking out - but the pressure of his hand was scaring me. He could hurt me, really hurt me, so easily. He could kill me. How long had I known him, really? Did anyone know where I was that day in case I went missing? That rage in his eyes - what had I done to make him so angry? How far would he go to punish me? I starting clawing at his hand around my throat, desperate now like a wild animal trying to escape a predator.
And then I realized - trust him. Trust that he can take you to the edge and keep you from falling over. Trust that he has hurt you many times before but always returned you safe to your bed. Trust his eyes that, now I think about it, just look excited, not murderous.
So I let go. My whole body went limp as I relaxed every muscle that had been tensed against him a moment before. And as quickly as I stopped fighting him, his hand loosened against my neck. He smoothed back my hair and kissed me. Could he sense the power of my submission at that moment? That I had put my life in his hands and come out unscathed on the other side. That I trust him to take me anywhere, anywhere.
He was over me, fucking me deep with my legs around his waist, glowering down and me and telling me to take his cock, all of it. Occasionally, he'd roll me onto my side and continue fucking me with one of my legs thrown over his hip, then he'd force me back onto my back. At one point, he rolled me onto my side again and held my face at arm's length, turning it from side to side. He considered it, murmuring, "What a good little slut you are for me, Kitten."
He slid his hand down to my neck. His large hand covered the entire front of my neck from my chin to my collarbone. I felt him tighten his grip as he fucked me harder. His eyes were burning black, burning into me as my eyes widened in fear. Tighter, he held me tighter by the neck and I put my hands up to his, gripping them.
I wasn't choking, exactly - I could still breathe if I could stop freaking out - but the pressure of his hand was scaring me. He could hurt me, really hurt me, so easily. He could kill me. How long had I known him, really? Did anyone know where I was that day in case I went missing? That rage in his eyes - what had I done to make him so angry? How far would he go to punish me? I starting clawing at his hand around my throat, desperate now like a wild animal trying to escape a predator.
And then I realized - trust him. Trust that he can take you to the edge and keep you from falling over. Trust that he has hurt you many times before but always returned you safe to your bed. Trust his eyes that, now I think about it, just look excited, not murderous.
So I let go. My whole body went limp as I relaxed every muscle that had been tensed against him a moment before. And as quickly as I stopped fighting him, his hand loosened against my neck. He smoothed back my hair and kissed me. Could he sense the power of my submission at that moment? That I had put my life in his hands and come out unscathed on the other side. That I trust him to take me anywhere, anywhere.
I was on my back on the couch with my bra pushed up over my breasts, naked from the waist down, my legs spread open. He was on his knees in front of me, slowly teasing my clit with his tongue. His eyes were on me the whole time - he watched me writhe and moan my way toward an orgasm. Just before he brought me to a screaming climax, he suddenly stood and grabbed me by the hair.
He pushed me onto my knees on the couch facing the back cushions so that my ass pointed in the air toward him. I felt his hard cock brush against the cheeks of my ass, then rub against my wet pussy.
Then, to my alarm, he was pushing against my asshole with no warm-up, no lube, no preparation. I started stammering and gasping, eventually croaking out several "nos" in succession. He pulled back on my hair with a snap.
"What did I just hear you say?," he rasped in my ear.
"I...I just...I mean, the lube is in the other room..."
He cut off my blubbering. "I will put it wherever. I. Want. Do you understand?"
"...yes," I sobbed into the back of the couch, feeling miserable. He forced his cock into my pussy and tightened his grip on my hair.
"You don't say no to me. I will fuck you wherever and whenever I want. Do you understand?," he growled as he pounded into me.
"Yes," I gasped.
"Do you?" He pulled back harder on my hair until my neck was strained. I grabbed at the back of the couch to anchor myself against his angry thrusts.
"Yes," I whispered as I looked up over my shoulder at him.
"Good," he said with a sigh. I had disappointed him and he was going to punish me. "Now, get up. I am going to cum in your face."
He pushed me onto my knees on the couch facing the back cushions so that my ass pointed in the air toward him. I felt his hard cock brush against the cheeks of my ass, then rub against my wet pussy.
Then, to my alarm, he was pushing against my asshole with no warm-up, no lube, no preparation. I started stammering and gasping, eventually croaking out several "nos" in succession. He pulled back on my hair with a snap.
"What did I just hear you say?," he rasped in my ear.
"I...I just...I mean, the lube is in the other room..."
He cut off my blubbering. "I will put it wherever. I. Want. Do you understand?"
"...yes," I sobbed into the back of the couch, feeling miserable. He forced his cock into my pussy and tightened his grip on my hair.
"You don't say no to me. I will fuck you wherever and whenever I want. Do you understand?," he growled as he pounded into me.
"Yes," I gasped.
"Do you?" He pulled back harder on my hair until my neck was strained. I grabbed at the back of the couch to anchor myself against his angry thrusts.
"Yes," I whispered as I looked up over my shoulder at him.
"Good," he said with a sigh. I had disappointed him and he was going to punish me. "Now, get up. I am going to cum in your face."
Naming
I told him what the name Kitten does to me. I'm not his pet, but the name still has this enormous power over me - the power to put me in my place, to make me look up at him with wide eyes, the power to make me beg. His hand was on my neck, resting there lightly as he pushed the fingers of his other hand into me, when he softly whispered into my ear, "You're mine, Kitten." His words made my whole body shudder.
I'm not his pet, but I am his little girl. I'm his good girl, his naughty girl, his slutty hungry girl, his used fucked girl. I'm his Kitten, the girl who yearns to be just what he needs.
I approach him freely and then he takes over my mind and every inch of my body. He holds me in his thrall and he teaches me. He spins amazing fantasies of all of the things he has planned for me, all that I will learn to take just for him.
I'm scared of the things he's told me that he has planned. I'm even more scared of those things he has not yet revealed.
And he knows how wet I get when I'm scared.
I'm not his pet, but I am his little girl. I'm his good girl, his naughty girl, his slutty hungry girl, his used fucked girl. I'm his Kitten, the girl who yearns to be just what he needs.
I approach him freely and then he takes over my mind and every inch of my body. He holds me in his thrall and he teaches me. He spins amazing fantasies of all of the things he has planned for me, all that I will learn to take just for him.
I'm scared of the things he's told me that he has planned. I'm even more scared of those things he has not yet revealed.
And he knows how wet I get when I'm scared.
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