|Blogs > Rythem70 > Rythem70's Dirty Desires|
This is how it was. This is how I'll remember it. This is what I have always wanted. This is what I'll crave, even when I am old and no one will want to hold me like this, standing stock still, bare feet planted solidly on the floor, nothing binding me at all except my desire to do your will.
I am standing, arms by my side, hands pointed gracefully toward the floor, fingers slightly curled, shoulders rolled back, breasts rising and falling with my breath, nipples painfully erect.
My legs are spread hip width. My pelvis is tucked, my back slightly arched, my knees soft so I don't fall, unconscious, to the floor. I have no idea, ever, how long you'll leave me standing like this. I've learned from experience how to endure this pose for hours. I feel sometimes as though I could stand this way for days, if only you would stand as you are, your warmth radiating from your body, one hand on my hip, steadying me, the other pressed firmly against the back of my neck.
If I dare to sway, to move backward, to try to leave this semi circle created by your arms, the pressure on the back of my neck says, "No, pet. Don't move."
Once in awhile, I will. I will test you because I will want something else. To sink to my knees, to lie down on the floor, to turn my body around and lean against you, but this is never about what I want. One slight movement, and I am reminded of that, and I fall deeper into that trance you so easily put me in.
I won't move.
My breathing is deep and audible. So is yours, since you've leaned in now and pressed your mouth to my ear. Your teeth are on my earlobe and you nip sharply enough to make me gasp, sending me further into the moment, causing a stronger pulse to begin in my center and spread from there to already aching nipples and throbbing clit.
You don't need to test me anymore. I've long since been conditioned to flood with moisture as soon as your teeth find their way to my ear. It's always the left, and if I want to feel instant, piercing desire, all I ever have to do is pinch that earlobe. I haven't told you that yet. It's my little secret, and one of the joys of being your pet that I indulge in without you.
The nip turns now to a kiss, and a suckling. The womb cramps down hard at this as though my earlobe were a nipple. I want so badly to be on my knees, let them go softer, hoping you'll feel my silent plea, but you tug again, not so gently this time, and I sway back upright again.
"You're so beautiful."
I hear the words and feel them spread from my tailbone to my face in a crimson flush. The flush turns my lips into a bashful smile. I live to be seen as beautiful in your eyes. Knowing this, that you have named me beauty, brings me deeper still, and in this place where you have brought me I have no name other than that: beauty. Your beauty. That is all. My identity is stripped from me along with clothing, jewelry, poise, and pride.
I am only your beauty.
Your hand moves from my hip to my arm, and you run long fingers from my shoulder, ever so lightly down to the crook of my elbow, where your fingers linger around that tenders of spots.
Fingers dance lightly now down to my own curved fingers, lace themselves with mine, and squeeze -- not hard, just enough to lay claim to my hand. The hand you've woven into my hair moves my head now.
I'm whispering. I couldn't find my true voice if I tried now. My throat is dry from breathing so raggedly. My lips have been slightly open all this time, the way you like them.
Your hand moves now from my fingers to my thigh in a quick motion that startles me. You slightly stroke the flesh that has known your teeth, and cradled your body as it rocks mine, and you claim it, taking hand full of it, gripping tightly, molding the skin and muscle to palm of your hand.
You raise your hand to my face, cupping both nose and mouth so that I can smell the scent in which my thighs are bathed. I inhale deeply, as aroused by my own perfume as I've ever been by yours, knowing that you are it's creator, knowing also that you love it and that it arouses you. Your hand dips back down between my thighs, sliding easily, penetrating me, deeply, and now I can't stay still because I am impaled upon your fingers that hook themselves into my sweet spot, the one a scant inch in, the one you found with such terrifying ease the very first time.
You stroke that swollen spot with two fingers for too brief a time and all my weight centers now, right there upon your hand until you pull your fingers away, leaving me off balance. I feel that I might fall, but trust that hand on the back of my neck to steady me, and it does.
"You love this, don’t you, pet?"
I let my chin fall a little more, let my tongue slide a little over my dry lips, and wait. Your hand comes up again, this time with your fingers slick with my lust, and you slide them between my lips.
I don't answer with words this time but with my absolute obedience. I suck hard and make sure to lick up all the juices running down your fingers. You pull my head backward a little so that you can watch.
Still sucking on my drenched fingers, and focus the sight on your face. You are smiling so tenderly, with such pure affection, that I feel my knees buckle yet again.
"You are so beautiful."
You take your fingers away from my mouth, and I resist the urge to bite down to keep them there. A light grazing of my teeth does not go unnoticed though.
You laugh. "Of course you are."
You take a step forward, pulling my head in the direction of your step so that I step backward with you. I feel myself flooded again, a river of need flowing over my thighs. Yes, toward the bed, yes please, toward the bed. You stop and slide in still slick fingers into my wide-open and throbbing pussy.
I can't respond except to whimper, and there are your fingers on my sweet spot again, stroking it hard, fast, so hard it pulls my body forward with each movement outward. I feel my body arch, and your hand in my hair tugging to prevent it, but I don't care anymore, and the pain I feel when you tug only heightens the pleasure I feel building as your fingers stroke me.
You take another step forward, and I move another step backward.
"Please." I begged.
And your fingers move ever more faster now, not just stroking but you rubbed your finger on my clit
"I'm going to come." I say it in between gasps of air.
"Come for me, love."
Another step forward and I take another step back. I can feel the foot of the bed at the back of my thighs now, and the need to let myself fall backward onto it is somehow over-ridden by my need to please you. My body is torn in two directions as you withdraw your hand and raise it up to my mouth, gently filling it with your fingers.
And I suck. And suck. I am whimpering still, the spot right in the middle of my upper lip, the one that responds as though it is a miniature clit, throbbing with every rough drag of your fingers beneath it. I could come just like this, I think.
I am oblivious to anything but the suck. You are whispering to me, and I have no idea what you are saying at all. I am beyond words now. But you know this. You know me this well. You know the place you've taken me, and you know how to bring me out of it, or push me deeper into it.
Your teeth find my earlobe.
Deeper, yes, now.
Your breath in my ear, your fingers in my mouth, your knee rising now, foot braced on the edge of the bed, and you pull my body by way of my hair so that my pussy comes down on your thigh. Oh, relief, that impact, and I am going to come.
"Come, baby…… Come some more, love."
You've said it right into my ear; sharply enough to bring me up a little out of the depths. I hear you. I understand. The sound that comes out of my mouth, pushing itself out around your fingers is akin to a sob. The pressure declines sharply and you take your fingers out of my mouth.
I don't put my hand behind me to feel for the surface upon which I am to sit. I simply let my body descend, knowing that your hand on the back of my neck, fingers twisted into my hair, will guide me.
"Lean back on your arms."
And I lean back, as you disentangle your fingers from my hair. I let my head fall back, my back arch, as you take each leg, bend it at the knee, and place my foot firmly upon the mattress. I am spread as wide as I can be, and I wish for restraints so that I can stay that way. My power will not be taken from me by way of rope, but given up, willingly, every instinct in me to resist, resisted.
I tense the muscles in my thighs, imprinting the memory of where they are supposed to stay upon them. I brace my feet hard against the mattress, willing them to stay right where they are.
"Look at me, pet."
I can't, I think. Not when I'm here. My eyes want to squeeze shut and stay that way. Please don't make me. You feel my resistance, and you wait, trusting me to overcome it on my own.
And I open my eyes, raising my head so that I can look right into your face and watch your every move.
You turn and walk to the corner of the room where a low stool waits for you. You pick it up and bring it over, positioning it perfectly so that you can sit comfortably directly in front of my spread thighs.
You finger plunges into me. I buck, forcing it deeper, but you lean in and rest your other forearm across my belly and hips, forcing me to be still, but only for a moment.
"You will be still."
I bite down hard on my lips…. Gasping and panting….
You take your arm away, leaving my body completely vulnerable to it's own willfulness, leaving me free to disobey. I bear down, pushing my weight onto my bones, digging them deeper into the mattress, eyes still open and focused on your face. It's from there that I'll derive my will to be still now. I stare as you work another finger deep inside me.
You feel the flutter of my muscles around your fingers, and knowing me as you do, you speed up the orgasm that is threatening to come.
"That’s it, baby…… Cum for me…”
I hear you. My body hears you.
My whole body trembles with the explosion that is just one "yes, now" away. I want to thrust forward. You tease. Give it to me. Give me what I need.
"Ready, pet? I sure hope so because I’m not stopping."
The sounds that are rising out of my hunger don't sound human to my own ears. My body is tensed; braced, begging me to let it move, make it come, make it come….
You stop moving your hand altogether. Your eyes are full on my face, watching it evidence whatever I'm feeling from second to second as I feel the pleasure ebb away. I've been ready to beg for so long now.
"Please. Please. Please."
I can't say anything but that.
You know. You feel it. You see the pure adoration and submission in my eyes. You read the message contained within them, and though I never believed it possible, and though I gave up even needing it, you move your wrist once, pushing deeply against me.
"Yes. Now, pet….."