August 19th, 2009
Stripped naked and laid out before him. Watching with bright eyes as he stalks his prey. He pounces, grinning, and I smile right back up at him. Knowing what is to come, wanting it, needing it. I wait, but not long, and I am beneath him. Thoughts flying away as his gaze rakes my body. Wrapping ourselves around each other for a kiss before he takes full control.
His weight presses down on me, pinning me to the bed, hips to hips, chest to chest, legs entwined around legs. His hands clamped around my wrists, sometimes holding my head still. Arms pressing my shoulders, holding me below him. I am trapped. Held, not still, but secure. There is no escape from him. From his weight, from his teeth, from his voice, from his cock. And I do not want to be free. I am his to enjoy, to control, to use, and to love.
He holds me tight as his teeth descend upon my nipple. Teasing with tongue or just pouncing with animalistic growl. I squeak and moan and gasp for breath. Delicious pain emanating from a single tiny point. I arch my back, wanting more, even as my nerves scream for me to fight and flee. Some days it leaves me gasping and happy, other days it leaves me yearning for more. Just a little more pain, that was not quite enough. And then he goes for the other one. Sweet torment, twisting the tender one as he bites the fresh eager flesh.
Hands clamp around my head, fingers curling in my hair, I feel his breath on my ear, a soft growl as shivers run down my spine and he snaps his teeth. I want it so badly, I tilt my head towards his mouth, and whimper as his teeth sink in. Gentle at first, I moan softly and squirm against him. Then it become harsher, teeth digging into tender flesh, and I yip and try to turn away. Pain overriding control, especially when he take a bigger bite. I want more, but I cannot hold still, it is so intense.
When he pulls his mouth away, I shiver, the intensity suddenly gone, there is a void that makes me gasp and shake. Just as hard to control as the pain. The yearning for more is almost as intense some days. I fight and twist my head and whimper, but when it stops, I want more. Every snap of his teeth, and growl of his breath and I tilt my ear towards his mouth. Silent begging for what I cannot always voice.
When he counts, while his teeth are deep in flesh, while pain is riding high. It flows free, filling my whole body, with a painful pleasure that only can be soothed by the number Three. Two feels like a string, pulled to breaking point, with a knife rubbing gently on the last few fibers. My mind screaming for the knife to stop, to wait, just a moment longer.
Then everything melts. His voice, with simple numbers, giving me a focus, a direction, a place to send all that built up energy and pleasure. And with Three, or a kiss, it rushes through me, taking all the pain and all the pleasure, every bit of tightly controlled energy and explodes leaving me breathless. Again and again. Until I do not think I have any energy left to spend. Then he counts one more time, and just the energy of his voice, of our connection, is more than enough to ride another wave of pleasure, just for him.