Post by Cascadia on May 30, 2006 16:37:23 GMT -5
I’m not home. I’m never home anymore, because his bed is so comfortable. The mattress is sunken in so that my body fits next to his perfectly. There’s like, a thousand pillows and sheets and blankets under and around us, propping our heads up. The TV’s on, but I haven’t heard anything it’s been playing. His eyes are fixed on the screen, but I sense his mind is elsewhere as well.
“Do you think we’ve gotten too attached?” His eyes don’t move from the screen. The audience laughs, and his face stays cold. I know his thoughts are far form the show.
“Of course.” I love his voice. I think I’d listen to him forever, even if he were yelling. His words have stung me before, but it’s his silence that breaks my heart.
I sigh quietly; my question had no purpose, his answer equally as meaningless. Had we gotten too attached? Too close for comfort? Of course.
We’re both dominant, both set on ruling over each other. We would like nothing better then seeing our other on their knees, begging for release. And we both know, that’s not gonna happen. Not without a fight.
Power play, some call it. But ours had started as only lust. Horny? Me too. Let’s fuck.
Lust grew dull, and we moved on to passion. But we were still in the bonding period, so it wasn’t good enough. Wasn’t backed with enough emotion. We gave up on that rather quickly.
Now it’s power. Raw, unbridled power.
I press against him, his heart is beating under my hand. I’m not sure if I want to start with him now, I’m not in my right mind. Then again, neither is he. I almost regret smoking with him, I could have just let him get trashed alone, and I would have the advantage. But then it would be pointless. Too easy.
I remember I called him easy once. He growled, and bent me over the computer chair, teasing me. Grabbing onto my wrists, he kept my legs open, over his shoulders and started licking my clit.
There’s no worse torture then his tongue on me when he wants nothing more then me screaming for him.
I almost did, just from how tightly he was holding my wrists. But I’ve learned how to stay quiet. Hold in every moan, every whimper.
I will not give him the pleasure of submissing to him
My will his strong, but he’s got physical strength. And sometimes in a power play, we loose ourselves. Become completely feral. Get a little rough.
I had bruised wrists for three weeks after that.
And it started with just teasing. Playing with me, until I finally whimpered and whispered his name. Quiet enough to just be heard, but loud enough to destroy my dignity.
He let go. Then fucked me senseless.
I feel like I’m lying in the sky, in some sort of backwards world where the ceiling is beneath me. I know it’s just the weed but I kind of like imagining falling off the floor. The room is spinning now, and I can tell I’m gone. I wonder if he feels it yet, and he answers my thoughts by grabbing my hand. It tingles, and I giggle.
Tilting my head to look at him, he looks at me, and my stomach twists when I see his eyes. They’re green. They change sometimes, but I like them green best.
“We haven’t played today.” He says nothing to this, just reaches for my face.
I’m almost afraid he’s going to hit me, but only for a moment. I remind myself he would never hurt me. Never hurt me purposely, anyway.
He starts stroking my cheek, and I close my eyes, enjoying the high. Weed makes my senses spaz, and I feel like I’m floating as he plays with my hair. Then I realize I am floating, moving, sitting up on him.
When did this happen? I muse, but he pulls me down to him, our chest pressed together. I want to pull back, I want to think straight, I don’t know if I want to start this now, but then his lips are on mine, and I don’t know anything at all.
He’s supposed to taste like smoke. I know he’s supposed to taste like smoke. But I popped a mint a while back, and my tongue is already delusional on drugs.
He tastes like cotton candy.
I open my eyes, blink. Once, twice. I don’t want to fight, not now…I pull back, his teeth nipping my lip, and I taste blood. The metallic flavour fills my mouth, and the candy turns bitter. Shake my head, no.
“I don’t want…don’t, not to-to-“ I can’t even form words. My mind feels like my body’s moving uber slow, and I hate being silenced. Then the paranoia kicks in, and my mind reels. I almost laugh out loud when I think rape. We’ve fucked so many times, we’re far, far beyond rape.
I honestly would love to be raped by him. Long as he’s gentle.
I wince as his nails rake down my back. He licks blood from my lip, and holds me against him, his arms wrapped around my back, fingers digging into my sides. I bite my swollen lip, holding back protests of pain. I won’t plead him.
Only the weak beg and plead for mercy.
I can take a little torture.
He smiles at me, letting me sit up a little and grabbing my hips, grinding against me a little.
“Then we’ll just fuck.”
Just fuck? We haven’t ‘just fucked’ since…I give up trying to remember.
He pushes me back, my hips now sporting new bruises and fingernail marks as well. I glance up, and he’s already got the condom on. He grabs my wrists, paying no mind to the bruises and drags me to him. My arms scream, but no sound comes from my mouth.
Then he’s in me, and my whole body is screaming. Except me. I remain silent as he grabs my hair, jerking my head back. He could have just asked me to arch my back. My eyes burn, but I won’t let myself cry. My chin is trembling, and I unlock my jaw, moaning.
He says nothing. No gloating, no cocky smile, he just grabs my hips and thrusts into me again. I fight his hands, rolling my hips slowly.
This isn’t a game. Our first fuck in forever, and I want it to last. My hands explore his chest, tracing over his smooth skin and curling in his hair.
The room tilts backwards, and I follow, new waves of pleasure sweeping through me from the shift. He lets out a slow breath and I don’t feel the need to smile, no urge to taunt him.
Just fuck me. His voice slides through my mind, tantalizingly soft. I could have heard him, or imagined it. Or remembered it. Or just not care and obey, which is what I did. I lay down on him, grinding him into me.
Moaning again, louder, I remembered his parents were down the hall, but they’re trashed too. You’d be surprised the things you recall when you’re high.
He growls, and I know I’m not going hard enough for him. Pushing him in a little deeper, I’m remembering all our past fucks, almost all in order. They say you never forget your first time, but he’s far from my first, and yet the only one I remember in bed.
“Too slow.” His voice cuts into my memories, slicing through my thoughts. I feel his hands on my hips, and I cry out in pain. He either thinks it pleasure, or ignores it and pulls me down onto him hard. I’m splitting in half, and it feels good. His hands seem to be everywhere, clawing my back, grasping my hips, on my chest, nails digging into m skin. I almost cry out again when he starts biting my shoulder, just a little left of where he broke through the skin the other day.
I ignore everything except fucking him, trying to rule the pain out with the pleasure. I move on him faster, trying to get to my peak and end this torment.
Sex is the sweetest poison.
I can’t remember how long we’ve been sleeping together, just that it will end soon. I’m his fuck toy, not his love. And he’s still my everything, injecting me with his sex and cruelly, I know he will eventually turn me away, and then what? He’s my world, my fuck, my poison.
I feel myself tighten and scream.
Anger, frustration, lust, envy, a voice to break a thousand hearts as mine shattered and I came with him, lust left far behind this passion play.
We’re panting, sucking in air, suffocating on each other. My mind is gone, my body broken. Only he does this to me. No one else can. I hate him. God, I hate him for it. And the only thing I hate more, is the fact I can’t hate him. Hard as I may try, I can never hate him.
“I love you.” A sob. Not a breathless secret between lovers, but a cry of anguish. The words sting as they roll off my tongue.
Poison.
The tears come now, and I collapse on him as my world falls away around me. He pulls his nails out of my back, and I feel blood welling in the new wounds and start to run down my skin. He sighs, his eyes sliding shut.
“I love you too.”
Liar.
I could have stood, walked away, laughed it off. But sex is deadly, infecting you with love. Creating a flaw, burning a hole in your heart. A weakness.
I close my eyes and let his voice echo in my mind, the clear stream of tears reflecting off his equally empty words.
I want so badly to believe him.
I am weak.
My chest aches. His fingers and teeth have left it bruised. Ironically, he’s bruised the inside of it as well. Then he’s sliding me off him, and I fall into place beside him, his mattress sunken in so I fit against him perfectly. I feel like I’m melting, loosing the last of myself.
I love you too.
Liar. You fucking liar.
My eyes slide shut and another small part of me dies.
He strokes my hair, and I glance up at him. He’s smiling.
We weren’t even playing, it was just a fuck…I knew I’d been lying to myself all along.
Just a fuck.
We haven’t ‘just fucked’ since…I give up trying to remember. This wasn’t a fuck. Wasn’t even sex. Just another damn power play.
And he beat me again.
Using my weakness against me.
And I don’t even care.
Sex is poison.
But fucks are so much worse.
“Do you think we’ve gotten too attached?” His eyes don’t move from the screen. The audience laughs, and his face stays cold. I know his thoughts are far form the show.
“Of course.” I love his voice. I think I’d listen to him forever, even if he were yelling. His words have stung me before, but it’s his silence that breaks my heart.
I sigh quietly; my question had no purpose, his answer equally as meaningless. Had we gotten too attached? Too close for comfort? Of course.
We’re both dominant, both set on ruling over each other. We would like nothing better then seeing our other on their knees, begging for release. And we both know, that’s not gonna happen. Not without a fight.
Power play, some call it. But ours had started as only lust. Horny? Me too. Let’s fuck.
Lust grew dull, and we moved on to passion. But we were still in the bonding period, so it wasn’t good enough. Wasn’t backed with enough emotion. We gave up on that rather quickly.
Now it’s power. Raw, unbridled power.
I press against him, his heart is beating under my hand. I’m not sure if I want to start with him now, I’m not in my right mind. Then again, neither is he. I almost regret smoking with him, I could have just let him get trashed alone, and I would have the advantage. But then it would be pointless. Too easy.
I remember I called him easy once. He growled, and bent me over the computer chair, teasing me. Grabbing onto my wrists, he kept my legs open, over his shoulders and started licking my clit.
There’s no worse torture then his tongue on me when he wants nothing more then me screaming for him.
I almost did, just from how tightly he was holding my wrists. But I’ve learned how to stay quiet. Hold in every moan, every whimper.
I will not give him the pleasure of submissing to him
My will his strong, but he’s got physical strength. And sometimes in a power play, we loose ourselves. Become completely feral. Get a little rough.
I had bruised wrists for three weeks after that.
And it started with just teasing. Playing with me, until I finally whimpered and whispered his name. Quiet enough to just be heard, but loud enough to destroy my dignity.
He let go. Then fucked me senseless.
I feel like I’m lying in the sky, in some sort of backwards world where the ceiling is beneath me. I know it’s just the weed but I kind of like imagining falling off the floor. The room is spinning now, and I can tell I’m gone. I wonder if he feels it yet, and he answers my thoughts by grabbing my hand. It tingles, and I giggle.
Tilting my head to look at him, he looks at me, and my stomach twists when I see his eyes. They’re green. They change sometimes, but I like them green best.
“We haven’t played today.” He says nothing to this, just reaches for my face.
I’m almost afraid he’s going to hit me, but only for a moment. I remind myself he would never hurt me. Never hurt me purposely, anyway.
He starts stroking my cheek, and I close my eyes, enjoying the high. Weed makes my senses spaz, and I feel like I’m floating as he plays with my hair. Then I realize I am floating, moving, sitting up on him.
When did this happen? I muse, but he pulls me down to him, our chest pressed together. I want to pull back, I want to think straight, I don’t know if I want to start this now, but then his lips are on mine, and I don’t know anything at all.
He’s supposed to taste like smoke. I know he’s supposed to taste like smoke. But I popped a mint a while back, and my tongue is already delusional on drugs.
He tastes like cotton candy.
I open my eyes, blink. Once, twice. I don’t want to fight, not now…I pull back, his teeth nipping my lip, and I taste blood. The metallic flavour fills my mouth, and the candy turns bitter. Shake my head, no.
“I don’t want…don’t, not to-to-“ I can’t even form words. My mind feels like my body’s moving uber slow, and I hate being silenced. Then the paranoia kicks in, and my mind reels. I almost laugh out loud when I think rape. We’ve fucked so many times, we’re far, far beyond rape.
I honestly would love to be raped by him. Long as he’s gentle.
I wince as his nails rake down my back. He licks blood from my lip, and holds me against him, his arms wrapped around my back, fingers digging into my sides. I bite my swollen lip, holding back protests of pain. I won’t plead him.
Only the weak beg and plead for mercy.
I can take a little torture.
He smiles at me, letting me sit up a little and grabbing my hips, grinding against me a little.
“Then we’ll just fuck.”
Just fuck? We haven’t ‘just fucked’ since…I give up trying to remember.
He pushes me back, my hips now sporting new bruises and fingernail marks as well. I glance up, and he’s already got the condom on. He grabs my wrists, paying no mind to the bruises and drags me to him. My arms scream, but no sound comes from my mouth.
Then he’s in me, and my whole body is screaming. Except me. I remain silent as he grabs my hair, jerking my head back. He could have just asked me to arch my back. My eyes burn, but I won’t let myself cry. My chin is trembling, and I unlock my jaw, moaning.
He says nothing. No gloating, no cocky smile, he just grabs my hips and thrusts into me again. I fight his hands, rolling my hips slowly.
This isn’t a game. Our first fuck in forever, and I want it to last. My hands explore his chest, tracing over his smooth skin and curling in his hair.
The room tilts backwards, and I follow, new waves of pleasure sweeping through me from the shift. He lets out a slow breath and I don’t feel the need to smile, no urge to taunt him.
Just fuck me. His voice slides through my mind, tantalizingly soft. I could have heard him, or imagined it. Or remembered it. Or just not care and obey, which is what I did. I lay down on him, grinding him into me.
Moaning again, louder, I remembered his parents were down the hall, but they’re trashed too. You’d be surprised the things you recall when you’re high.
He growls, and I know I’m not going hard enough for him. Pushing him in a little deeper, I’m remembering all our past fucks, almost all in order. They say you never forget your first time, but he’s far from my first, and yet the only one I remember in bed.
“Too slow.” His voice cuts into my memories, slicing through my thoughts. I feel his hands on my hips, and I cry out in pain. He either thinks it pleasure, or ignores it and pulls me down onto him hard. I’m splitting in half, and it feels good. His hands seem to be everywhere, clawing my back, grasping my hips, on my chest, nails digging into m skin. I almost cry out again when he starts biting my shoulder, just a little left of where he broke through the skin the other day.
I ignore everything except fucking him, trying to rule the pain out with the pleasure. I move on him faster, trying to get to my peak and end this torment.
Sex is the sweetest poison.
I can’t remember how long we’ve been sleeping together, just that it will end soon. I’m his fuck toy, not his love. And he’s still my everything, injecting me with his sex and cruelly, I know he will eventually turn me away, and then what? He’s my world, my fuck, my poison.
I feel myself tighten and scream.
Anger, frustration, lust, envy, a voice to break a thousand hearts as mine shattered and I came with him, lust left far behind this passion play.
We’re panting, sucking in air, suffocating on each other. My mind is gone, my body broken. Only he does this to me. No one else can. I hate him. God, I hate him for it. And the only thing I hate more, is the fact I can’t hate him. Hard as I may try, I can never hate him.
“I love you.” A sob. Not a breathless secret between lovers, but a cry of anguish. The words sting as they roll off my tongue.
Poison.
The tears come now, and I collapse on him as my world falls away around me. He pulls his nails out of my back, and I feel blood welling in the new wounds and start to run down my skin. He sighs, his eyes sliding shut.
“I love you too.”
Liar.
I could have stood, walked away, laughed it off. But sex is deadly, infecting you with love. Creating a flaw, burning a hole in your heart. A weakness.
I close my eyes and let his voice echo in my mind, the clear stream of tears reflecting off his equally empty words.
I want so badly to believe him.
I am weak.
My chest aches. His fingers and teeth have left it bruised. Ironically, he’s bruised the inside of it as well. Then he’s sliding me off him, and I fall into place beside him, his mattress sunken in so I fit against him perfectly. I feel like I’m melting, loosing the last of myself.
I love you too.
Liar. You fucking liar.
My eyes slide shut and another small part of me dies.
He strokes my hair, and I glance up at him. He’s smiling.
We weren’t even playing, it was just a fuck…I knew I’d been lying to myself all along.
Just a fuck.
We haven’t ‘just fucked’ since…I give up trying to remember. This wasn’t a fuck. Wasn’t even sex. Just another damn power play.
And he beat me again.
Using my weakness against me.
And I don’t even care.
Sex is poison.
But fucks are so much worse.