I don’t just want to know that You’re going to fuck me. I
don’t even want to hear that You’re going to fuck me longer and harder than
I’ve ever been fucked before. Anyone can claim that He knows how to fuck.
Anyone can claim that He can do it better than anyone else who has come before
Him. Anyone can rattle off a laundry list of demeaning names and phrases.
But I want more.
I want to know that You’re going to delve inside of me – not just my body, but my brain, my heart, my soul. I want to know that You’re going to bury Yourself beneath my skin. That You’re going to figure out how to unravel me with the slightest look or mere hint of a touch. I want You to know how to turn me into a quivering, mumbling, sweating, crying mess of a girl – and to revel in doing it again and again and again.
I want You to seduce me. I want You to start the seduction hours before You even lay a finger on me.
I want to know how You’re going to fuck me. I want to hear how You’re going to tease me. How You’re going to make me whimper. How You’re going to make me go hoarse begging for it. How You’re going to drive me nearly to the point of delirium with the need for release.
I don’t want to be Your whore. Any man can buy a whore if he’s willing to pay the price. I want to be Your slut. I want You to make me Your slut. Because I’m not available to be bought. Because I don’t have a price. Because I become this girl – this wildly, wickedly, wanton woman – only for You. Because I become her only in Your hands and at Your command and under Your tutelage. I do these things, defile myself at Your whim, because You have taught me to embrace the darkest parts of myself – not to run from them – Because You’ve loved those dark parts, nurtured them, brought them out to play. Because it brings You pleasure.
And there is nothing I crave more, hunger after more, want more than Your pleasure. Because I am Yours and Yours alone.
I’m not impressed by Your ability to feel a rush of power when I let You spout demeaning things at me. I’m impressed by Your ability to know me so completely that You know exactly how to touch me, how to speak to me, how to tease me and taste me and command me to make me surrender unquestioningly and unflinchingly to Your command, Your desire, Your will; by Your ability to take me and claim me and make me Yours.
And I want You to claim ownership of what is Yours every single night.
I want You to mark me. I want the sting of Your teeth scraping across my skin, quickly followed by Your tongue to help soothe the burn. I want Your calloused fingertips on my bare shoulder blades and Your hot breath tickling my earlobe while You whisper filthy words – the kind that make me blush and squirm and crave desperately to hide my face from You but that You know – You know – I could never live without.
I want Your mouth, dropping a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along the bend of my spine. And then I want it fastened against the hollow at the base of my neck, marking me, bruising me, leaving reminders all over my skin that I belong to You. That this body is Yours. This heartbeat is Yours. This mouth and these hands and this cunt are yours. That this girl is Yours. All Yours. Always Yours.
I want You to leave me gasping, writhing, moaning. Leave me wanting. Leave me needing. And then I want You to tell me how beautiful I am when I beg You to hurt me.
And then I want You to hurt me. Please. Please. Bruise me. Beat me. Mark me with Your hands and Your belt and Your cane. I want evidence of Your presence all over my body for days to come.
Be as rough with me as You want. Don’t care. For You I’ll take it and then beg for more. Because I want Him. I want the brute, the savage, the conqueror that lives within You. Bring Him out. Let me play with Him. Let me sate Him. Let me please Him. Let Him leave me raw and aching.
Fuck me not as an act of passion but as an act of possession. Make me cry. Make me Yours. Make me Yours.
And make no mistake about it, there will be tears. The pain will bring tears. Your tongue and teeth and hands and cock will bring tears. But do not fear, for I crave those too. And afterward, I need You to hold me while I cry. I need Your hand stroking my hair, Your arms pulling me close, Your voice whispering in my ear that I was perfect, the best of good girls, while I shiver and shake and lie there in Your embrace, unable to do aught but cling and tremble and cry. But in the best way, the best way.
You’ll make me messy. I will be a mess for You. But I don’t want to just be a mess. I want to be Your mess. One that You crafted and took to this point with careful consideration and precision. One so desperate and needy for Your pleasure and Your hands and Your tongue and Your cock and the final, glorifying, exalting reward of Your cum that I will do anything – anything – to please You.
Your pleasure is my pleasure. And I need – want – crave everything You can give me. I crave it all. I need to take it. I want to take it. Let me take it. Please – please – let me take it.
And remind me – I want You to remind me – I need You to remind me – that I asked for this. That I begged for this. Because that’s what good little girls do. Because that’s what Your good little girl does.
And more than anything, I want – I crave – I need to be Your good little girl. Yours. Always Yours.
Mark me. Take me. Use me. I want it all. I crave it all. I need it all. Just make me Yours.
But I want more.
I want to know that You’re going to delve inside of me – not just my body, but my brain, my heart, my soul. I want to know that You’re going to bury Yourself beneath my skin. That You’re going to figure out how to unravel me with the slightest look or mere hint of a touch. I want You to know how to turn me into a quivering, mumbling, sweating, crying mess of a girl – and to revel in doing it again and again and again.
I want You to seduce me. I want You to start the seduction hours before You even lay a finger on me.
I want to know how You’re going to fuck me. I want to hear how You’re going to tease me. How You’re going to make me whimper. How You’re going to make me go hoarse begging for it. How You’re going to drive me nearly to the point of delirium with the need for release.
I don’t want to be Your whore. Any man can buy a whore if he’s willing to pay the price. I want to be Your slut. I want You to make me Your slut. Because I’m not available to be bought. Because I don’t have a price. Because I become this girl – this wildly, wickedly, wanton woman – only for You. Because I become her only in Your hands and at Your command and under Your tutelage. I do these things, defile myself at Your whim, because You have taught me to embrace the darkest parts of myself – not to run from them – Because You’ve loved those dark parts, nurtured them, brought them out to play. Because it brings You pleasure.
And there is nothing I crave more, hunger after more, want more than Your pleasure. Because I am Yours and Yours alone.
I’m not impressed by Your ability to feel a rush of power when I let You spout demeaning things at me. I’m impressed by Your ability to know me so completely that You know exactly how to touch me, how to speak to me, how to tease me and taste me and command me to make me surrender unquestioningly and unflinchingly to Your command, Your desire, Your will; by Your ability to take me and claim me and make me Yours.
And I want You to claim ownership of what is Yours every single night.
I want You to mark me. I want the sting of Your teeth scraping across my skin, quickly followed by Your tongue to help soothe the burn. I want Your calloused fingertips on my bare shoulder blades and Your hot breath tickling my earlobe while You whisper filthy words – the kind that make me blush and squirm and crave desperately to hide my face from You but that You know – You know – I could never live without.
I want Your mouth, dropping a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along the bend of my spine. And then I want it fastened against the hollow at the base of my neck, marking me, bruising me, leaving reminders all over my skin that I belong to You. That this body is Yours. This heartbeat is Yours. This mouth and these hands and this cunt are yours. That this girl is Yours. All Yours. Always Yours.
I want You to leave me gasping, writhing, moaning. Leave me wanting. Leave me needing. And then I want You to tell me how beautiful I am when I beg You to hurt me.
And then I want You to hurt me. Please. Please. Bruise me. Beat me. Mark me with Your hands and Your belt and Your cane. I want evidence of Your presence all over my body for days to come.
Be as rough with me as You want. Don’t care. For You I’ll take it and then beg for more. Because I want Him. I want the brute, the savage, the conqueror that lives within You. Bring Him out. Let me play with Him. Let me sate Him. Let me please Him. Let Him leave me raw and aching.
Fuck me not as an act of passion but as an act of possession. Make me cry. Make me Yours. Make me Yours.
And make no mistake about it, there will be tears. The pain will bring tears. Your tongue and teeth and hands and cock will bring tears. But do not fear, for I crave those too. And afterward, I need You to hold me while I cry. I need Your hand stroking my hair, Your arms pulling me close, Your voice whispering in my ear that I was perfect, the best of good girls, while I shiver and shake and lie there in Your embrace, unable to do aught but cling and tremble and cry. But in the best way, the best way.
You’ll make me messy. I will be a mess for You. But I don’t want to just be a mess. I want to be Your mess. One that You crafted and took to this point with careful consideration and precision. One so desperate and needy for Your pleasure and Your hands and Your tongue and Your cock and the final, glorifying, exalting reward of Your cum that I will do anything – anything – to please You.
Your pleasure is my pleasure. And I need – want – crave everything You can give me. I crave it all. I need to take it. I want to take it. Let me take it. Please – please – let me take it.
And remind me – I want You to remind me – I need You to remind me – that I asked for this. That I begged for this. Because that’s what good little girls do. Because that’s what Your good little girl does.
And more than anything, I want – I crave – I need to be Your good little girl. Yours. Always Yours.
Mark me. Take me. Use me. I want it all. I crave it all. I need it all. Just make me Yours.
No comments:
Post a Comment