I try to ignore you; I have things I must do, a life to live without your evil intent. But you are so damned addictive. And you know it. There has never been anyone like you. Smug is what you are, leaning nonchalantly in the doorway, arms folded, saying nothing, watching me as I try to live at least one day of normality. It is a look that challenges me to resist you, knowing full well that I can’t.
I didn’t used to be like this. Was it only a month ago that sex was under my control, and no-one else’s? I could pick and choose my lovers, then discard them when I lost interest. Climax maybe, most often not, little more than the monotonous routine of date-sex. I was looking for something, not knowing what. Since you, all that has changed. You showed me what I was looking for, and taught me that there was more to sex than fucking.
That every time could be new and different, and that variety was endless. With you I came back for more because there was always more and I never quite knew what it would be. With you I have come to know myself.
Sometimes your power scares me, why I do not know, because you have never caused me the slightest harm. In our wildest moments, I’ve sensed that you have always cared for me. You have shared your power with me, and it is now my strength and my weakness because I can climax to your command, but only to your command. It makes me yours. I can belong to no one else.
And now you have taken this to the point where our minds are fused. It should not be possible to think someone to climax, yet here I am, gripping the back of a chair, not even close to you but unable to break free from the intensity of your gaze. I know what you are doing to me. You are making my mind reach out again for what you offer. You are a drug I must have.
I feel that inner tightening that means my body is rising to meet yours. You are dissolving my senses into a single raging need and I can do nothing about it. That soft smile lightly masks what you are, the immediate flow of my desire telling me that I want what you have. You do not demand, instead you create an inner longing that makes me beg for that which only you can give.
As my body begins to pulse with need, my eyes are full of that pleading.
‘How?’ I whisper, clutching the chairback tighter, my voice catching the cusp of my desperation. Climaxing like this should not be possible, yet within me I feel the orgasm rising to its crest. ‘How?’ I ask again, though the intensity of my emotion makes words irrelevant.
You just smile knowingly, saying nothing. You do not respond with words, you expect me to know the self that you have made real. I become unaware of anything but my inner self and the need I have for you.
I begin to shake, my throat tightens, and my body sways and barely holds itself up as my climax hits. I feel myself losing everything as you move quickly to catch me.
You hold me tight as my body convulses against you. No words are needed, your arms around me are enough.
‘You do that because you can, don’t you?’
‘Yes,’ you whisper, ‘just to remind you who you belong to.’
‘You need a mental health warning,’ I say as I collapse against you, the soft tears that wet your shoulder telling you what you’ve done to me.
‘I know,’ you say with a gentle laugh, softly stroking my hair.
And I hold you tighter. I need that touch.
I feel myself being cradled in your arms, picked up and carried into the bedroom. I think it’s going to be an interesting evening.
My writing is drawn from life, and what I have absorbed through my own experiences with wonderful lovers.
I want you to enjoy it too, if my writing touches you. So comments are always welcome.
You might like my romantic novel “Need”
or my book of kinky poetry “101 BDSM Verses”