Tuesday, February 16, 2010


I want You to hurt me.

Every time You touch me, it is like this: my need expands and moves beyond me, outside of restraint, and I feel utterly incapable of controlling it. I am dissolved before You. I am disintegrated into a river of liquid desire that cannot be quenched unless You hurt me, use Your hands on me with a violence I recognize as Your love, a violence I know to my core I cannot make due without, and I am left waiting. Sobbing and waiting for Your fist to soothe me and break me and bring me back down to this earth. Gravity. Your fist is my gravity.

The first time You marked my face we had been fucking for days. Hard, You fuck me hard, Your cock entering and claiming me as if You had waited a lifetime for my cunt and my need matches Yours every time. My need for Your cock. I need Your cock. I push You with my hands and plead "no" sometimes because it is so big it hurts me and You call me Your whore and make me take it anyway and in that moment, the moment I am just taking, I would do anything, anything for You. You fuck me without lube and sometimes, sometimes it takes my cunt too long to open up for Your cock and You want it now, in to Your base now and You slap my face and tell me to hurry, You do not want to wait for me.
The first time You marked my face You were slapping it in the front seat of my car, Your other hand gripping my hair, slapping me while I sobbed and calling me filthy and I felt cradled and precious and I was Yours. The next morning there it was, purple and blue, Your hand splayed across my cheek, Your mark, Your love. Possession, I thought. And I was both terrified and elated.

You hurt me and I am terrified and elated.

I have craved. For an eternity it seems, I have craved. And I thought tenderness happened at the moment when I broke and began to cry and the person who was beating me stopped to hold me. Yes, tenderness. Now, now I realize with stunning certainty that I was wrong. I was so wrong and so I lived without. Tenderness is the moment I break and You push me beyond, beyond my fear, beyond my limits, tenderness is the way You carry me straight into my craving and stay there with me while I struggle and then a moment snaps inside me and I am flying, flying toward You and You knew all along I could take it.

I have never been so safe in all of my life.

You call me Your whore. Beloved whore when I have pleased You, and I swear to You I feel as if I live to please You, to hear You say those words, to see the look on Your face when I know I have been a good girl for You, when I take Your cock, when I make You cum down my throat, when I spread my legs for You without being told, when I open up for You, when my cunt is saturated with my longing for You, when I am available - my heart, my body, when I show You how I need You. Other times, You call me filthy whore. I am a filthy whore because I beg for Your cock, You tell me, because I am a gaping cunt of insatiable need, and I cry. I cry because I want You to tell me I am good. I cry because being called Your whore creates, awakens a massive desire inside me that I both adore and fear, a desire I am at times unsure what to do with, how to hold it, how to call it mine. I cry because a core part of myself needs to be filthy, to be debased, to be hurt, to be told I am used by You only for fucking. And I cry because I worship You and do not know how to make You see, make You believe, make You know what You are to me.

I cry because I want so much. Everything. I want everything.
Every time You touch me, I sob. I sob....I am relieved and home and moved and broken and terrified and safe and so turned on I am not even sure how I can be anything more than heated flesh, an inferno of longing, a vast vast need molded into skin by Your hands and cock. And when my need reaches a ferocity I am so afraid I am incapable of holding, I reach for Your eyes to remind me I would do anything to please You. Hurt me, please hurt me - I tell You this one night after dinner, a dinner during which we were nearly fucking at the table, so hot and hard was our desire for each other. Hurt me, I need it, I need it. Again, I am sobbing. I cannot even look at You, do not reject me now, with all this need and no where to go with it except to You, because I understand in my gut You know what to do with it, what to do with me. And You take me to Your bed and punch my face, my mouth, and shove Your cock in, bury it in my cunt and ass and I am sobbing in my hands and in Your neck and all over the bed and I can taste blood in my mouth. Your fist. And then time stops, inexplicably, You are in my cunt so deeply I cannot move, pinned to the bed beneath You, the full weight of you, You are holding me to the ground. Gravity. My gravity. And Your eyes are not leaving my face, my filthy tear-streaked, make-up stained, puffy and bruised face and I know, from Your eyes I know, I am so beautiful. And You are whispering - my princess, You whisper. And I am precious.