Abused And Breathless

Abused And Breathless

He takes my hand gently but firmly in his, and bringing it up to his mouth kisses the diamond ring he just gave me in an act of possession, ownership and a smile which could be mistaken for gentlemanly if not for the devilish glint in his eye.

Abused And BreathlessBringing his other hand up to cup my chin and turn my face fully towards his, he kisses me then, full force, on my hungry and eagerly anticipating lips. My heart races already.

“Let’s go upstairs. Now.”

In line with his words he stands without letting go of my hand, pulling me up with him, confident and strong, seductive in that arrogance, asserting rights over me that I don’t remember giving but that I find are his now anyway.

Leading me upstairs, pushing me ahead to keep eyes on my behind, sliding fingers between tingling thighs and making me ready prematurely, so my breath quickens in line with my heart and the gasps catch in my throat just the way he loves. Pushing all the buttons he’s found and finding more at the same time.

Shutting the bedroom door. Kissing me thoroughly once again then flinging me down upon the bed, heavily, picking me up and actually throwing. I feel so small, so light, feminine, attractive, wanted and owned. But beautifully, perfectly without a trace of horror or maltreatment, and this is all sex, desire and want, between us, an understanding there that has been formed by the time together, knowing more than what I want, into what I need and providing that for me in love.

I surrender to his sexual selfishness that is only there because I ask for it. In that conundrum lies the power exchange of the truly perverted yet at the same time there is a clean and pure shining ray of compassion, understanding and generosity, the giving of the taking.

Peeling away my layers. In every way… the clothes find their way to the floor beside the bed. His lips find all my weaknesses, he is my weakness, his mouth trails over my neck, face, through to fingers entiwined with his and the curve of my hip as my leg comes up to wrap round his waist.

A tangle of heat, flesh and desire, moulding into a shape of passion, two flames dancing and growing, eating up at the air around to stay alive, licking at one another in the low light and becoming more animated with each touch of one another.

His fingers prise me apart and I give him entry with the unspoken acceptance of his mastery over me in every way.

I dare to taste his lips, sucking on his bottom lip then delving in with tongue to partake in the feast that he is.

I will hope to feast upon more, licking at him, sucking and never feeling like I have enough, hunger turning to greed, that hunger that is rarely satiated, but he knows how.

Thinking of when he is inside me, the feel of the entry, the slow, warmth, creeping… all over my sin, tingling and prickling as I am penetrated, nothing I can do about it…

…this time will it be full love and consent, or the violent struggle, pinning me down, as I writhe underneath, squealing and crying, then against his strong hand clamped over my mouth, punishment with hand over my nose too, gifting me breath when I agree to be ‘nice’ and not wriggle, stay still like a good girl, let him have what he wants, let him take it all, rip his pleasure from me and use me for his selfish needs, just as I love and want, more please, give me the evil, the sin, the wicked, devilish but delicious hurt, the horror of all of your agony, frustrate me and tease me til I am streaming tears but leaking profusely at my heightened lust, I must have you pounding at me wildly and heavily.

The full body weight slamming into me again and again; fingers finding my nipples to squeeze til the shrill and piercing pain seeps out of my clamped mouth, straight from my throat, a keening wail of agony and pain, intermingled irresistibly with the sensation of his pressing against my insides, throbbing and still growing like he is going to split me completely, hips aching and waist pulled at, him on my back and pressing my face into the pillow hard, raping me and using my hair in his fist as reins to drive me harder, like his mare to ride and race to that finish line, expertly pulling the movements from me that makes his pleasure all the sweeter and my pain all the more intense.

Spreading me even more, hands finding their way around my throat for the conclusion, my lips turning blue, purple, white… no air to be had, throat almost crushed and a soundless, wordless scream caught in my heart with no way to escape, mirroring my own predicament – that’s when he chooses to flood me with his love and with a grunting exhalation of orgasmic satisfaction he empties into me, pumping me full while I am trying to splutter pain, love, joy, air and tightening around him to milk yet more from him, taking all my pleasure in his, feeling it radiating and luxuriating in it.

The first breath of air again once he is finished is painful, slow and long… the bittersweet rush of air once again but the realisation that he is no longer within me – the choice between the two a difficult one to make and this is why he must own me, because I know which I would instinctively choose, to my own detriment.

I love you





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