Nov 122013
 

The sun lifted and beamed through the two small windows in the room. It penetrated her face in some spots more clearly than others. When she tried to open her eyes, one wouldn’t. It was too swollen closed. The other had an inflamed cut across the eyebrow. She had limited vision. He had punched her in the face.

Her hands automatically went for her eyes. She found her wrists bound, along with her ankles. They were shackled to the small, iron bed she was laying on. The thin mattress that she was laying on was as naked as she was. She wondered if it was as dirty too. The side of the bed pressed against the long wall.  All she had to do was look down the foot of the bed to see him leaned on his shoulder, up against the doorway.

He must have heard the chains rattling. “Morning, pet.” She just lay there, in silence, frozen, and determined. The tension was in an elevator on it’s way to the penthouse.

“Don’t do it.” He shook his head, took his baseball cap off, raked his nails through his hair then re-positioned his cap. It was a habit she recognized. He shook his head again, looking at the floor and talking with one hand, the other still tucked under his arm.

“Are you going to try that thing where you cut yourself off emotionally? Because I think we both remember how well that worked out for you last time.”

“No,” her voice came out like a horse whisper; so she lay her head back, cleared her throat and tried again. “No. I’m just… trying to figure …everything out, and I’m tired and hurt.” She wasn’t in any physical or mental shape to earn his ire.  She didn’t know what was coming next, either.

He swaggered into the room and took a seat on the mattress beside her, then looked to the only other piece of furniture in the room which was a St. Andrew’s cross. He looked back at her.

“This used to be my playroom. Now, this is your room, but I don’t have room for that anywhere else in the house. You want to take a shower, get something to eat, maybe let me look at that eye?”

She warily nodded. He unlocked her feet first and then moved to her hands. She squeaked out an expression of gratitude. Before he unlocked her left wrist her stopped and let his elbows fall to her knees, and his face to the floor. “Thank you… what, pet?”

Her stomach sank. She hoped that by omitting that one word she hadn’t undone herself and his willingness to be gentle, even for as long as it would last.

He flipped her over. The jerk to her body almost jammed her one still chained wrist. One of his hands seemed to put his entire body weight on the side of her face. She could barely breathe. She felt the springs against her cheeks. His other hand slapped her ass until she finally got it high enough for his liking.

She screamed the word “Master,” endlessly. She felt something smooth enter her pussy and she lifted her ass for it. She spread her legs for it. Everything else hurt, but her cunt felt good. He said nothing the entire time, but pulled out before she could finish.

Just like she knew him, he knew her. He let her head up and covered her eyes with his hand, pushing whatever he’d fucked her with into her mouth. She could obviously taste her own juices.

“Clean it.”

She did. He uncovered her eyes.  He held the length of his hunting knife in his hands, inspecting how well she cleaned the butt of it.

She cried.

Apr 302013
 

Monster in youI like your pale skin. I want to sting it. I want it to spill little strips of lava , maybe rub some in. Oh, and I want you cry. Just let me have a little bit of it. Just let me hurt you a little. Cry for me. I want tears. They just tickle me to death. Make me grin.

It’s Christmas morning and I’m like a kid just a little too old for Santa, but with no parental conformation that he doesn’t exist. I don’t really know where this came from, but I like it.

Feb 062013
 

What if we both weren’t two takers.

It’s not even love. It’s as if love, loyalty and compersion all melded together.

I’ve felt the warmth of your heart, but not the heat. It’s a position that I fell into while being honest with you. Sometimes crying with me made me feel like I was hurting you. It made me not want to speak of anything at all. Your tears are more painful to me than the initial hurt that I’d suffered, and far more painful than any hurt I could bare thereafter.

Does she even know?

Dec 092012
 

His bare feet padded back and forth. His station was spread out all over the room. Gagged and blindfolded, she could still hear. His footsteps were the only warning that she had. She. Just. Ached. The stingy and the thuddy were gone.

There wasn’t a piece of flesh to mark that hadn’t already started showing its colors. Now we’re done with the first set of tears. There was new life in him. Now on to the sobbing.

He was getting to the real root of his work. Rip. It. Open.

The padding of his feet became a distant sound. He was hitting her faster. Harder. She couldn’t keep up. She was about to cum.

Nov 192012
 

He’s so possessive.

Mine – he says. His.

He likes it when I say the word when we’re fucking.

Even when we’re not. I don’t forget.

He’ll beat parts of me red and raw so that I’ll remember.

My tears and promises swear that I will.

His. All of it. All of me.

My panties are always wet.

Jun 162011
 

Even when I say that bad stuff, He smiles.

He’s gonna get me if I don’t shut up.

Daddy’s got that mean stuff like that sometimes.

But I will hide my face and casually leave my ass in the air, then squeal when he smacks at it.

Then I will be faux-shocked at his defilement of such an innocent creature

… and tell him about it.

… with a straight face.

…and a voice that most people have never heard and will never hear out of me.

I’m just a babygirl.

I want to hide behind him and curl up in his lap.

I want him to pet me and  feed me bites.

I want him to squish my sammiches flat, and rub that sweet part of my ass until my legs spread, and I get all blushy blushy.

I like sitting on the floor so I can stretch, then crawling over to put my head in his lap.

He can sit me down, and stop all the noise, and I’ll listen.

He can have me in tears in a heartbeat.

It’s more than sex.

It’s more than play.

It’s not exactly love, but close…

It’s a special level of care for another person.

May 102010
 

Hide

I wish I was in love with nightmares

Because nightmares are in love with me

They bring me my tears

They feed off my fears

Their wicked kisses won’t let me be

~*~

 I wish I was in love with nightmares

Because nightmares are in love with me

They slip out of my head

They dance ’round my bed

Forcing me to submit so passionately

~*~

 I wish I was in love with nightmares

Because nightmares are in love with me

The lick of the whip

Thickness of the tip

I can run but I can never leave

~*~

 I wish I was in love with nightmares

Because nightmares are in love with me

I cry for days

It’s their evil ways

The marks they leave no one can ever see

Wicked Wednesday... be inspired & share...

Mar 082010
 

Take me in, and see me for the broken girl I am. Protect me from myself. Hold me. Stroke me. Open me up, and sort me out. Enjoy me. Dig inside me until the tears and the begging threatens to push me over the edge, my eyes frantically searching yours, for my own salvation. At that moment do not show me kindness, only strength of your will. Take mine, and show me how you hold it in your hand, taking ownership of it, and then eat it. Gone until you decide to give it back. You have that power. I’ve taken that one opportunity that I had, and I gave it to you. Yes, I want this.

No more opportunities for you, little girl.

Daddy’s little girl answers to someone else now.

This show is live.

Enjoy it.

Feb 092010
 

What is your favorite thing to get hit with?

A Man’s hands.

I’ve watched as He’s unloaded toy after toy, paddles, straps, floggers, canes, everything. I’ve felt each of these implements strike my flesh and bring my tears and my wetness, but none bring me the closeness that His hands do.

When He touches me He has the ability to feel His work, the temperature, the give, the flow of blood and tenseness of muscle. He can go from a caress to a slap or a pinch in a moment, at His whim. I am nothing if not at His mercy…and I …love …being at His mercy.

I enjoy Him the most… His arms restraining me, His mouth as my gag, His hands striking me. I know I’m supposed to be the toy, but, it’s Him that I wish I could order from, not JT’s Stockroom.

 

(FYI: I like JT’s.)

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