You’re in your zone, eyes half-shut, face turned towards mine. Lulled by the touch of soft skin and warm curves. Blissed-out and meditating on sensation as your fingers slowly slide and stroke and slip.
You’re a thousand miles away, right next to me on the bed. Silent and worshipful, adoring. Lost in your contemplation of lust and love.
Sometimes I can join you there, relax into wordless communion, let my body welcome your prayerful touch.
This is not one of those times. Tongue-tied in the face of your serenity, I struggle to bring the words to voice. They roll around my skull and dissolve behind my teeth, leaving me parched and partitioned from you, separated by a barrier of unspoken frustration.
“Talk to me”, I murmured, and you sighed a benediction over my bowed head, words fading as I gritted my teeth, tending a sullen glow of resentment at my own limitations. Last night, “You’re so beautiful” was all it took to make my thighs twitch apart and my clit throb. Today, something sharper was needed to chisel through the scales of my discontent. A profanity or two. A growl of lust. A breathless appraisal. But no – you were adrift in a mist of adoration and I was stranded alone in the gutter, my habitat of preference.
It’s just the way I’m wired. I yearn for pain and domination like crisp clear water, shockingly cold and dangerously deep. You proffer honey and warm syrup – delicious as that is, it does not always slake my thirst.
But we are two, and ‘us’ is not just about me. You need tenderness as much as I want power games. Your love is not merely a vehicle for delivery of my carnal needs, nor are you the mind-reader of my dark fantasies. You are precious to me, and I would not hurt you for the world.
So I spurred my arousal with unspoken fantasy; imagined my wrists in chains and my hair wrapped around your fists. Delved into memory for harsh-sounding words and even harsher-landing blows. Recalled the fierce flint-hard stare with which you pinned me during that night after the kink club, and your sharp fingers digging furrows of sullen heat into my tender bruised buttocks. Now, I am wet. Now I am ready.
You slipped inside me with a sigh and a sweet smile, and I watched as you shifted from langour to libertine. Along the line of your cheekbones and the hoods of your eyelids, I found the hunger I needed; in the pleasure-almost-pained twitch of your expression and the shuddering breath that escaped from between your teeth. Your naked, vulnerable desire pierces me and lays me powerless, disarmed not by force but with awe. You need me. You love me. The realisation, every time, brings me to life.
Now we’re feeding on each other’s desire; my hitched breath as you move within me causing your cock to stiffen, your tightening grip around my shoulders drawing my cunt closer around you. Eyes locked, limbs entwined, electricity sparks unseen between our lust-contorted faces.
You smile down at me; the sweetest, most smitten curve of your mouth. I see the words inscribed in your expression before your lips move. It’s written across your face and in every line of our embrace. The words that comfort me when I am sad, restore me when I am lost, that soothe my irritable prickles and calm my fretting anxiety; “I love you”, you mouth silently, and in this moment, the words have doubled, quadrupled in power, tipping the honeypot, spilling the syrup, flooding me with a wave of heady sweetness, so different from the fiery thrill I’m used to chasing.
With these words, you hold me captive. I am pinned, silenced, naked, vulnerable and fearless. Three words tie me more tightly than rope, more firmly than shackles. Single syllables sinking deeply into my skin, further than the bite of the crop can penetrate. They blur my vision with the sudden sting of tears, fill my ears with the pounding of my pulse. They spread me wide and clench me tight around you. They are the ultimate expression of power and surrender.
I love you