Knkstriped

Rescue

Off the meds and casting about for an anchor against the storm of demons gnawing on my soul

Content warning: mental health difficulties


“Help me, please” she begs through sobs and tears and snot, face twisted and smeared with desperation, “Make it stop, make it go away, bring me back, I can’t, I can’t, please.”

She needs treatment, urgently. An intensive regime, closely monitored and lovingly applied. With time and attention, he can make her comfortable, ease her pain. Bring a smile back to her twisted, trembling mouth and restore her partway to peace.

He kisses her cheeks, cradles her face between his palms. “I’m here. I’ll make you safe. I’ve got you. We’ve got this.”

Too far gone for hope, daren’t, can’t. But she’s willing to take his word for it, handing over to someone more competent than her in this moment is a microdose of analgesic. Sobs fade to sniffles. “Please” she whispers and bites her tongue against the torrent of questioning that rises into her throat. But aren’t I spoiling your day, are you just hiding impatience very well, aren’t you sick of this by now, sick of me and my fragility and my needs, how can you want me when I’m so pathetic do you love me can you forgive me for asking over and over always so demanding how can you love me?

“Hush. You don’t have to understand. Just believe.”

And so he sets to work. Instruments, to test and probe, reaction is distraction. Tethers, to secure and subdue; limbs restrained present no risk of harm, another lightening of the burdens of choice. Wrists, ankles, each cuff and clip and strap is an increment of anxiety quelled. Without mobility, the wrong move is impossible, that’s one less thing for her to fret about, am I squashing you, is my elbow on your hair, are you comfortable, am I doing it wrong; no, she cannot do anything wrong if she is captured, stilled, so he gives her the gift of abdication, observes with love, pride, awe, desire as the tension in her limbs begins to ebb and soften.

More kisses. On her face, tender. Across her neck, sensual. At her collarbone, heated, teeth scraping, contrasting touch a hook cast into her flailing mind to draw it back to the moment and she feels the barb snag, a spark in the chaos and darkness, clings tight-

“No,” he says to her tightening muscles. “Relax.” And, “Good girl.” when she softens beneath him. “Close your eyes. Just lie there. Relax.”

Oh, these words touch her, fingers on a plasma ball, attracting lightning from the chaos, pointing, here, something that makes sense, feels good. His hands on her, kneading, squeezing, rubbing; he pushes the knots out of her fractious muscles and sucks at her neck until it’s almost painful but so good, sharp, and the sensation flows through her like magnetism, orients and aligns her splintered, jabbering shards, towards him, take take, have what you want, have me fill me take me away give me you

her arms held wide above her head; secure, legs spread, stretched taut; helpless, harmless,

weighted down; naked heavy warm,

feasted upon; take have, shut me up tear me open fuck me, hurt me, want me, punish me adore me love me

She’s trying to say these words but they freeze in her throat, isn’t sure he wants to hear them anyway, can he read them in my face what is he thinking, can he see what I need? and what he sees is worry when their eyes meet, so he takes that away away from her too, settling the blindfold gently over her head and smiling to himself as she melts to acquiescence beneath him.

“Open your mouth.”

His fingers are salty from her tears.

“Suck.”

Obedient, eager to please, she follows instructions like a good girl, and her mouth is all tight pressure and sliding tongue to his touch. It takes excruciating self-control not to cram her full of his aching-hard cock right now, a need that makes him twitch and moan, grind himself against her and oh fuck the way her moan thrums around his fingers-

With the other hand he reaches for her bullet vibe. “I’m turning around now.” he says to the blank black satin of the mask. “Keep your mouth open.” Facing away on elbows and knees; from here he can keep her well-occupied until he himself risks becoming overwhelmed, but for the moment he has her warm breath on his balls and the tip of his cock dragging along her tongue, so the bullet is as much for his distraction as hers. Power on, he presses the tip just there, on the underside where nub sweeps upwards to hood, and stops up her gasp with his plunging shaft.

Fingers in her cunt, thumb circling behind, bullet against her clit, mouth-fucked and tied down; no time to think, no place to skulk or sulk, no room for words that might turn out to be the wrong words at the wrong time for the wrong reasons, the ache in her soul pushed aside by sensation, at last, here is respite and peace and she is

content


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6 thoughts on “Rescue

  1. This! This is everything. Every desperation and need. The only thing that works. The only way to stop the storm around my soul.

    I so often feel alone and wrong for needing that so much and being long distance makes it impossible, but this feels as though you’ve reached into my soul.

    I have had such a visceral response of recognition and being seen. Thank you for capturing and sharing such a powerful thing in words.

    1. Thank you for reading and responding (I’m so needy lol). It is such a relief to know that others have these same feelings; makes me feel like less of a tiny island in a raging sea xxxx

  2. Wow, Rosie <3 This is hot, powerful piece of writing. I need all this right now. Your words have really hot home for mean because you have worded so many feelings I have so perfectly, Thank you <3 x

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