"...ing".....

Seed planting

Thoughts developing

Nerves building

Excitement mounting

Butterflies growing

Time passing

Eyes meeting

Knees quivering

Hands shaking

Face smiling

Cheeks blushing

Eyes lowering

Skin touching

Pores perspiring

Mouth sighing

Lips touching

Tongues meeting

Hands roving

Hearts thumping

Body longing

Hands groping

Fingers rubbing

Mouths groaning

Trousers straining

Arms gripping

Mouth exploring

Senses exploding

Cock hardening

Eyes darkening

Lust building

Bodies aching

Cunt dripping

Tongue lapping

Heart pounding

Muscles tensing

Toes curling

Limbs clamping

Palms twitching

Mouths groaning

Hips plunging

Hands gripping

Teeth biting

Mouths Screaming

Bodies convulsing

Fluids releasing

Throat sighing

Arms holding

Time passing

Bodies spooning

Calm returning

Mine

I remember the first time, as if it were yesterday.  I remember not knowing what to expect, not knowing how it would be, the sense of fear so overwhelming I could hardly breathe.

I remember you took my breath away.

I remember how it felt to be there, with you, to place myself into your hands with a level of trust so deep; I had never felt so scared yet so safe all at once.

I remember the first time you touched me and the sensations it sent right through my body.  I remember looking into your eyes and the look going straight between my legs.

I remember the way it felt when you covered my eyes with your hands, plunging me into a darkness that only served to heighten my other senses, before you carefully placed the mask over my head.

I remember the anticipation I felt as I was there knelt before you. The fear, the arousal, the sense and the fear of the unknown and of you.  I remember you leaning over me, whispering in my ear, telling me that you were going to hurt me. 

I remember how those few words made me feel. But more than that, I remember how every moment of the first time made me feel.

I remember the way it felt as it made contact with my skin, I remember the electricity that passed through my body as I cried out from the pain that you caused with the cane that you used so expertly.

I remember the way it felt as the initial shock melted away within my body, the feelings spreading through my body like ripples on a lake, as it sent me cascading over the edge like a waterfall over a cliff.

I remember the way it felt as you covered me with your body, holding me close, letting me know that you were going to do it again.  I remember the way that you took my face in your hands, bringing my eyes up to meet your own and the way that I could see deep within you, the longing, the desire deep from within your soul.  I remember crying out as the pain seared through my skin and into the depths of my body.  I remember the gasps that left my mouth, the groan that escaped from my throat, I remember the tears as they quietly poured over my cheeks and onto the pillow beneath me.

I remember how it felt, when you reached down and touched me, my own wetness betraying the arousal of my body, of how sensitive my skin was to touch; to your touch. I remember your touch, the way your fingers felt against my skin, how your nails felt as they gently traced a pattern over my shoulders and down my back.  I remember the burning pain as your nails broke my skin as your other hand reached up and twisted my hair in your fist. I remember the pain searing through my head as you dragged me to my knees by my hair.

I remember how it felt when you touched me gently, with love and tenderness.  The insatiable look within your eyes as your beast prowled within, showing me that you had only just started; that you wanted to hurt me so much more.  I remember how it felt when you hit me, slapped me, bruised me, the sting of the leather as it made contact with my thighs; my ass and my breasts.

I remember as I began to float outside of my body, watching you hurting me.  Watching myself lost to the moment of exquisite pain.  I remember the marks covering my skin, the welts from your cane, the hand shaped bruise on the cheeks of my ass and the marks of the crop in little patterns over my thighs.  I remember the taste of blood from the cut on my lip, the way my cheeks stung from the intensity of your slaps.

I remember the marks around my wrist from the rope you had tied me with, the redness and soreness from where I had fought against those ties, trying to escape from your brutality.  I remember the way my legs ached from being restrained by the bar, which had pushed them open wider than was naturally comfortable.

I remember you holding me, the way it felt when you stroked my hair as I curled up in a ball shaking and shivering while my body and mind desperately fought to reconnect.  I remember begging you, pleading with you, screaming at you, then thanking you.

I remember being before you, in front of you, knelt before you. I remember your arms holding me up as my legs crumbled beneath me, the way my body shivered at your touch.  I remember your voice, the names that you called me as I hated you, despised you, being angry at you. I remember wanting you, needing you, feeling you, loving you.

I remember the taste of you, the smell of you, the intensity of your touch.  I remember your desire, your arousal, your need as you took what you wanted, what you needed, however you needed.

I remember through the pain and the tears, through the way that you had broken me, that I told you that I loved you.

I remember you shouting "MINE".

Hurt him.

Hurt him.

I want to hurt him.

Seeing him standing in front of me makes me want to hurt him all the more.  I watched him from the window as he walked up the path, purposefully closing the gate behind him.

I saw him stop, draw breath as if he was summoning the courage to walk further, a mixture of nervous anticipation and excitement.

He wasn't aware that I was watching him, but I stood without movement in the window, watching his movements, his expressions and the look in his eyes.

He knocked twice on the door and stood back, I continued to watch him, I was in no rush to open the door to let him in, actually I was, because there was so much that I wanted to do to him, but I wanted to draw him in gently, to take my time, to allow the anticipation and his nerves to draw him into a place of shyness and vulnerability.

I wanted to witness the transition from the confident man who strode up to the gate to the man who in only a short few moments would be so far removed from that man it could almost be two different people.

I wanted that transition to be subtle.  To be gentle.  To be slow.

I wanted to watch the changes within him, the way his senses heighten, of how his skin jumps at even the slightest or most delicate of touches.

I wanted to witness his struggles.

The battle in his mind of his fears against his desires.

But oh I want to hurt him.

Kissing him deeply, my hands tangling into a tight fist within his hair.  Pulling his head back slowly, stealing his breath. Kissing his chin. Pulling his hair.  Kissing his mouth. Pulling his hair tightly.

Kissing him.  Biting him.  Hurting him.

I will hurt him.

.

A walk in the park

It is late. 

We left the party a short time ago, much later than planned. But we had been enjoying ourselves.  I had been teasing you relentlessly all evening.  The occasional whisper in your ear of what I was going to do to you when we finally made it home.

I could see the tricks your mind was playing on you. 

The fear of the unknown.

The arousal that this fear and these thoughts brought to your body; to your cock.  There was no hiding it.  And I would smile at your arousal, you would blush at the humiliation.

The streets are quiet and we walk home together, the only sound being our breathing, and footsteps upon the pavement, the heels of my boots, the sound of your shoes.  And even though it is the very late hours of the night, we take a short cut through the park.

"Come on, we will be fine. I will look after you" I say mockingly when he protests that it isn't safe to be walking through the park at this time of the night. 

"Isn't it I, who should be taking care of you?" he asks in return. 

I simply smile at him.

"Nothing is going to happen to me while I walk through the park.  However . . .who knows what will happen to you?" I laugh dismissively at him. Walking on ahead of him, as his mind plays scene after scene of all the things that could happen in the next 10 minutes from the tiniest of seeds I have just planted within his mind.

I want to hurt him. 

The beast has been prowling all night, it is desperate for escape.  I want to tease him, hurt him, mark him.  I want to hear him pleading and begging for me to stop as I scratch, twist, slap him.  Which makes me only want to hurt him all the more, just as his hesitancy right now makes me want to hurt him and I have to stop myself from doing so right there. 

I leave him standing there as I walk on ahead of him, my feet are now aching and tired.  I am needing a drink and am feeling aroused at being out in the open air.  There is something about being out in the open, the feel of the air against skin, the danger of being seen and found.  My mind drifts to thoughts of the last time we were in this park. Walking through I had sat on the bench, him kneeling between my legs, his face buried between my thighs as he brought me to an orgasm with his tonguue.  I had then made him walk the rest of the way home with my juices all over his face.  He hadn't been able to look up at anyone all of the way home for fear that someone would know what he had just done.

I smile at the memory of his humiliation.  My body reacting to the memory of the wonderful orgasm that he had brought me.  

"Will you hurry up!" I say to him, as he increases the pace of his walk to catch up. 

He seems on edge. Nervous somehow.  He looks around, not really being able to see anything in the darkness of the unlit park, but looking around anyway as if someone is going to jump out at us at any time. 

A short distance later, in the middle of the dark park, I sit down on the same bench we had before. I tell him that my feet are aching, that I need to remove my boots and that I will walk the rest of the way bare foot.  

He stands before me, and just as he leans down to unzip my boots the back of my hand comes swiftly across his face, knocking him off balance and onto the ground. 

He is stunned, shocked by the force of the slap, the few drinks he had earlier at the party rushing straight to his brain, his eyes have glazed over as I know that it hit his submissive psyche with the same force of contact that it made on his skin. 

Before he has time to recover, before he has any time to realise that we aren’t alone, that someone is behind him, grunting as they grab him by the hips and flip him over onto his stomach. He is still dazed from the slap across his face but realisation is starting to hit and he begins to lash out, trying to push this unknown person away.

He is struggling now.  Kicking. Lashing out. Trying to push him away.  He is shouting. Swearing.

A hand forces its way into his hair, pushing his face down hard into the dirt. 

He is beginning to plead now, begging to be let go, but instead he is forced further forward, a mouth full of dirt, he coughs and splutters up the bits of soil that found its way into his mouth.  

From his head, the hand slides down his back, pushing him down harder, pinning him between his shoulder blades. The other hand groping and finding their way in the dark to the top of his trousers.   

"Oh god. Please. No! Please stop!"  he begs. 

Hearing his begging; hearing his pleas goes straight to my cunt. 

But the stranger does not stop.

Instead he pulls them down harder, yanking the trousers down over his naked ass, catching them on his cock, which despite the pleas and the begging to stop is obviously aroused at the force in which he is being taken at that moment.

As the trousers reach his knees, he stops.  You are exposed.

“Please NO! No. No. . no . . .no . . . no . . .n . . . “ 

You realise you are fighting a battle that you can only lose.  You hear the stranger unzip his trousers and feel the hardness of his cock against your naked, exposed ass.  You are crying now. Slow tears beginning to fall into body wrenching sobs.

“Please don’t hurt us” 

You are pleading. 

You have no idea that I am still sat on the bench watching you.  Watching him hurting you.  I make no noise. No sound. No movement. 

Instead you begin to scream as you feel the head of his cock at the entrance to your ass.  And you scream louder still as you feel him force himself inside you.  He grunts and moans with each thrust, groping at your body, scratching you, hurting you. All of the things that I have been wanting to do to you all evening.

Your screams have turned into moans and groans. 

Moans and groans which turn into a state of arousal despite that you are there in the park, on your hands and knees being fucked in the ass by an unknown stranger. Your own cock is hard and protruding from your body.  Just as you begin to find your voice again, pleading with him to stop, he forces you down further into the ground.

He is fucking you.

Slapping you.

Hurting you.

With each thrust his grunts get louder, deeper, throatier.  You feel his body begin to spasm as you feel him come deep inside of you. 

“Noooooo . . .” you cry out “Please help  me, I am begging you to help me”

You are laid there, semi naked.

Your trousers still around your knees.  You are scared to move, scared of what may come next. Your body quivering.  You feel him move away from you as he pulls his cock from out of you.   And what seems like an eternity but is only a matter of seconds, you turn to look for me. Your mind trying to make sense of the invasion of your body. 

The stranger on the other hand, is stood in front of me. Where you had been only a short time before as you had bent to remove my boots.

I look at him.

Leaning into him as he embraces me.  My mouth making contact with his as I devour his mouth with my own.  His hands gripping my breast through the blouse I am wearing.

“I love you” he says.

I smile at him.

I look down where you are still exposed on the floor.

And then I smile at you.

Talking...(while fucking)

The hunger is restless. 

It is like a thirst that cannot be quenched; a desire that cannot be satisfied.  No amount of masturbation can satiate the feelings that rage within, nothing which can prevent the depraved thoughts from growing in the mind. 

Depraved thoughts of you. Of me. Of many things.  Two, three, more times a day, in light, in darkness and yet it still isn't enough to calm the desire and the hunger that burns in every fibre of my being.  It still leaves me unsated. The desire, the longing, the urgent need still screaming, the hunger still restless.

So I imagine him, fucking me up and down the room, the kind of animalistic fucking where furniture goes flying, as bodies fall from one wall to another; hair pulled, face slapped, bruised, battered, bitten. Forced against the table sending the contents splaying all over the floor. Thrown against the sofa and on to the floor. Frenzied and frenetic fucking all played out before your eyes. 

His voice in my ear, talking while fucking, whispering into my ear of the things he is going to do to me, the things he is going to make you watch while he does them to me. His voice reverberating through my mind, around the room as he tells you what he is going to do to me.

And this does it to me.  It opens me. 

A voice, his words, the sound of the deep and sexy voice that has such an hypnotic effect, it enters into my head and opens me up more to him.  And he is talking and fucking. 

And you are watching still.

And without him touching me further, his words are forceful and strong, commanding and compelling, they are another implement in our pleasure, another tool in a box of so many. They penetrate my body, my mind.

And I come.

To the sound of his voice. To his words.  

And I am fucked, physically, emotionally, verbally.

My body shakes. The dampness of my skin against his from the forceful way he has taken me, he runs a fingernail down my spine, it is wet, I am wet.  And I feel naked, empty, open.

And still you watch.

He whispers into my ear, moving me down to my knees before him.

"Tell me how much you like my cock" He says. His words penetrating into my mind once more, infiltrating into the depths of me.  My own body reacting to the desire and longing from his words.

I kneel before him. His cock is hard, large, thick, I love the way the veins stand out, how it stands perpendicular to his body from where it is so hard from arousal. And as I touch it, while looking at you, I smile.

"I love it . . .I want to suck it and taste it and feel it . . ." I reply, still watching you.

You know how much I like to suck cock and yet you know that it has been so long since I have done so with yours.  And as I lean forward to take his cock in my mouth, my eyes do not break from your gaze.  I can tell that your cock is hard without being able to see it. I know that you are sat there wishing this were your cock being taken into my mouth.  I know that in the depths of your mind that you wish it was your mouth the cock was forcing its way into.  I know you are desiring, lustful, fervent, and that you are invaded by the words, aroused by what you have seen played out before your eyes.

I tease you with my eyes while I tease him, touch him, taste him.

I am taken to a place of ecstasy and surrender.  He grabs my hair, forcing himself deeper into my mouth, his grip on my hair is hard and harsh but it makes me groan from desire and want him all the more.  I am gagging now as he fucks my mouth, my eyes are no longer locked on you, they are locked on this beautiful cock and the body behind it.  And it is fervent and frenzied and it is rough and hard. And there are tears in my eyes and upon my face as he forces himself deep into my mouth and my throat.  And he is fucking me deeper and harder and I am gasping, gagging, choking, struggling for breath. And your breathing is shallow. And in the distance I hear you moan.

His voice unlocks me. Breaking the hold that he has on me.  Taking me away from the place I had drifted to. I do not hear what he says, but know that he has spoken to you.  You are blushing, humiliated at the words that he has thrown at you.  Seeing you there, like that, arouses me deeply.  I feel the hunger rising, the desire building at your discomfort, at your humiliation, yet knowing that will go straight to your cock.  Just as it goes straight to the depths of me.

He pulls me to my feet by my hair.

"Do you know how wet she is?" He asks you.  You nod, your eyes glazed with longing, with your own desire and arousal.

"I am going to turn her around and I am going to slam my cock deep into her. Hard. You love the sound of my balls slapping against her ass, don't you?"

His words, his voice and your reaction goes straight to my cunt. His words alone orchestrating the build up of another orgasm. 

And he pushes me over to the chair, where he fucks me hard, and I hear your moan as I groan at him entering me.  You are sat there watching him, watching his cock, watching me.  And I cannot get enough of him, and I want him to come in me and on me so he is there for longer, so I can feel him long after he has taken me. So you can taste him upon me long after he has gone.  And his words reverberate around inside me, and his cock is pounding into me.

And he is talking and fucking.  And you are watching. And longing. And wishing.

And I come at his words. And I come as he comes.  And as he comes he is still talking. Still fucking. And you’re still watching.

And he talked. And he fucked. And he talked while he fucked.  His voice, his words, echoing around inside the mind as he continues to whisper in my ear.  

And I beckon to you with a glance.  

There is no talking. 

There is no fucking.  

It's your turn now.

And it's not enough.

And you beg.  But it's not enough. 

And the more you beg, the more my sadism is sated.  The more I want to hurt you.  And you begin to beg and plead and your breathing is heavy and you look at me with pleading eyes.

But still it's not enough.

And I want to hurt you.

And I want to slap your face, making you look up at me after each slap and hearing you say "thank you" each and every time. And I want to do it again and again, making your cheek blazing red and that it takes you longer and longer each time for you to meet my gaze.  And your slowness makes me mad and it makes me want to hurt you all the more, so I hit you harder. And you beg even more and still it's not enough.

You are knelt on the floor, your hands are cuffed behind you. And I am stood before you looking at you, watching you, feeling you, hurting you. And I am calling you names and every time I call you a name your cock twitches at the humiliation. 

And you are hurt. And you are scared. And you are begging for me to stop.  And the more you beg. The more I want to hurt you.

And I stand there looking down at you, listening to you beg and plead and cry.  And I am calling you a slut. And I am calling you a whore. And I am calling you a pathetic fucking bitch and with every name there is a sigh. With every name there is an involuntary reaction from you body. And with every name your eyes glaze over just that little bit more.

And I bring your face up to look at mine with my hand under your chin. 

And I stop. And watch you. Your eyes glazing. 

And I place my hand on the back of your head pulling it forward. Leaning forward I bring you closer to my mouth and I cover it with my lips.  And I am kissing you. Devouring you. And I am biting and sucking on your lips. And I know it hurts. And I can feel you wince. And I can feel you try to pull away. And still you look at me, your eyes not breaking the pleading stare. And I kiss you harder. And I suck harder on your lips and I can feel them begin to swell beneath my own.  And I am kissing you. And I am eating you. And I am devouring you.

And I want to hurt you some more. And I want to hear you beg. And I want to see you cry. And the beast is raging and the more you beg, the more the beast rages.  And the more you cry, the more you plead, the more the beast wants to come out and hurt you and take you and break you.

I push you back away from me, and you lose your balance almost toppling over. And I laugh. And I make you crawl across the room on your bare knees, the coldness of the floor on your knees being felt with every inch.  And I tell you that you need to fetch me the paddle that is on the side. And I tell you that you're going too slow. So you crawl faster. And seeing you there crawling away from me, your arse on display, makes me want to hurt it, to make it red. It makes me want to mark it. Mark you. And it makes me want to fuck you there and then. 

And you bring the paddle in your mouth with difficulty and I laugh at your struggles as you crawl back across the floor. And you are trying so hard to keep it in the grip of your mouth, your lips still swollen from my kiss.  And you are gripping it as hard as you can and there's saliva running down over your chin and I hear you suck as you try to stop yourself dribbling so much. And you stop before me on your knees and lift your head up towards me.

And still your eyes are begging and pleading. And your breathing is heavy and deep.  You kneel back at my feet, waiting. Waiting to be told what to do next.

Except I do not speak to you. Reaching down I remove the paddle from your mouth as you move your jaw as you can feel the release of the weight that had been in your mouth.  And I uncuff your wrists. And you are embarrassed at the amount of saliva all over your face and go to reach up to wipe it with your cuffed hands.  I slap your hand away sharply bringing my hand back across your cheek.  And you draw a sharp intake of breath. And you look at me with pleading eyes.

And I know that you want me to hurt you.

And I know that you want to beg.

But you know how much that begging makes me want to hurt you. And when you beg to stop it just makes me want to hurt you all the more.  And you know that I don't like "fake" begging, that I don't like it when it is not genuine and real and felt. And you know that you need to convince me and that if it isn't real and felt that I will stop and walk away.

And I tell you to fucking beg.

To beg me to hurt you and then knowing that you will be soon begging me to stop. And you present your naked arse to me. Your head down near to the floor and you cry out as the wooden paddle makes contact with your bareness.

And you beg me to hurt you. Beg me to hit you harder. And the more you beg, the harder I do it. And then you are pleading, pleading for me to stop, crying with the pain. And your skin is getting redder and redder.

And your pleading is getting louder.

And you begin to cry, and the sobs are getting louder. And you don't know whether to beg to be hurt or to beg me to stop.

And I laugh at you at your confusion of what you are begging for. And tell you to beg properly. And still you don't know what you really want to beg for. I continue to paddle the cheeks of your arse, the back of your thighs and your lack of focus moves into the realms of confusion. And your begging comes out in gasps between the sobs that engulf your body.

"Fucking beg properly" I tell you. You beg over and over, "please hurt me" "please don't hurt me" and I tell you to make up your mind and for you to convince me what it is you really want, and at that point I know that you don't know what you really want.

And as you're begging I tell you that I don't believe you. That it's not enough.

And you are crying so hard, and there's saliva coming out of your mouth, and your nose is running all over the place and I reach down, bringing your eyes up to look at mine and I see that you have drifted. And your cock is hard and betrays your body. And I want to hurt you even more but know that you cannot beg to stop and you cannot beg for more. And that you are there on the floor beautifully broken.

And I bring you close into my body and I am holding you as your body is wracked with sobs.

And I'm holding you close. And I am bringing you down, stroking your head, gently pushing the hair away from your face. And I am wiping the tears that are falling from your eyes. 

And you are looking at me with more focus now.

And I continue stroking your face as your body begins to calm down and the sobs turn into sniffles as your head rests upon my breast. And your breathing slows down and becomes calmer.

And you look at me with those most beautiful eyes that you have and as I see you smile, I know that you are back. 

.

Frantic. . .

And it's a raw animal need that burns and prowls around inside, caged, held within, lurking in the depths awaiting its moment to be released.

Awaiting its moment to escape. 

An aggression that clenches every muscle. 

A frantic jaw clenching aggression. 

An aggression and a need that needs to be released and an aggresion that can barely be contained within.

And the beast is growling and the aggression screams with every part of the body . . .

And I don't want to see his face or his eyes. And I don't want to see him. I don't want to have to look at him. And I don't want him to exist. 

I just want him to be there, no face, no expression, no anything. 

To just be.

And I want him to there, knowing that he is there just for that reason and nothing else, knowing that it will hurt, that I will hurt.  And I need to fuck and I need to fuck him.  And I need him to cry and beg, and scream and eyes which allow the tears that fall, skin that marks and reddens with every touch that is inflicted.  And the skin reddens, and darkens, and bleeds and welts which stand out way beyond the skin, and a fight within that fights against all that I inflict, all that I desire. That fights against the bonds that secure.

And it is frantic.

And I want his helplessness. His hopelessness.

His longing. His begging.

And the aggression is frantic and needs to come out. And I need to let it out. And I need to come.

And in the aggression I want to hurt him, for him to feel it.

And I want to touch him, tease him, and hit him with all that I have.

And I am pulling him apart in every direction, making him, hearing him beg for more, begging for the beast. 

And it is aggression.

And it is a raw animal energy.

And it is frantic.

And I need to come.







.