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Affirming This is how it is. This is how we’ll remember it. This is what we’ve always wanted. This is what we crave. You standing stock still, bare feet planted solidly on the floor, nothing binding you at all except your desire to do my will. You are standing, arms by your side, hands pointed gracefully toward the floor, fingers slightly curled, shoulders rolled back, breasts rising and falling with each breath, nipples painfully erect. Your legs are spread hip width, pelvis tucked, back slightly arched, knees soft so you don’t fall, unconscious, to the floor. You have no idea, how long I’ll leave you standing like this. You’ve learned from experience how to endure this pose for hours. You feel sometimes as though you could stand this way for days, if only I would stand as I am, my warmth radiating from my body, one hand on your hip, steadying you, the other pressed firmly against the back of your neck. If you dare to sway, to move backward, to try to leave this semi circle created by my arms, the pressure on the back of your neck says, “No, pet. Don’t move.” Once in awhile, you will. You will test me because you want something else. To sink to your knees, to lay down on the floor, to turn your body around and to lean against me, but this is never about what you want. One slight movement, and you are reminded of that, falling deeper into that trance I so easily put you in. We don’t move at all for the longest time. Your shoulders ache, head wants to roll, to fall backward slightly, to rest, but my hand presses so firmly, and fingers curl dangerously into your hair. A gentle tug and oh yes, you remember now. Don’t move. You won’t move, don’t move, can’t move. Your breathing is deep and audible. So is mine, since I’ve leaned in now and pressed my mouth to your ear. My teeth are Yeşilköy escort bayan on your earlobe and nip sharply enough to make you gasp, sending you further into the moment, causing a stronger pulse to begin in your center and spread from there to already aching nipples and throbbing clit. I don’t need to test you anymore. You’ve long since been conditioned to flood with moisture as soon as my teeth find their way to your ear. The nip turns now to a kiss, and a suckling. The womb cramps down hard at this as though your earlobe were a nipple and I, a nursing child. You want so badly to be on your knees, let them go softer, hoping I’ll feel your silent plea, but I tug again, not so gently this time, and you sway back upright again. “You’re so beautiful, my treasure.” You hear the words and feel them spread from your tail bone to your face in a crimson flush. The flush turns your lips into a bashful smile. You live to be seen as beautiful in my eyes. Knowing this, that I have named you, beauty, brings you deeper still, and in this place where I have brought you, you have no name other than that: beauty . My beauty. My treasure. That is all. Your identity stripped away, along with clothing, jewelry, poise, pride. You are only, my beauty. My hand moves from your hip to your arm, and I run long fingers from your shoulder, ever so lightly down to the crook of your elbow, where my fingers linger around that tenderest of spots; gentle at first and then bone deep. You will be bruised , you think. And then, think, please bruise me . My fingers dance lightly now down to your own curved fingers, lace themselves with yours, and squeeze — not hard, just enough to lay claim to your hand. The hand I’ve woven into your hair moves your head now. I pull your head forward to rest on my Escort Yeşilyurt chest, a blessed relief when all your weight centers itself in the middle of your forehead, and all pressure on feet, knees, and back, is relieved. “Who owns you?” “You do, Master.” In your mind, our anchor phrase vibrates, loudly, “I belong to Jay completely and without reservation.” You’re whispering, couldn’t find your true voice if you tried now, throat dry from breathing so raggedly. Your lips have been slightly open all this time, the way I like them. If you closed your mouth, even to swallow properly, I would raise my finger to your chin and push so that your lips would open again. “Open.” “Yes.” My hand moves now from your fingers to your thigh in a quick motion that startles you. I grab that flesh, the flesh that has known my teeth, and cradled my body as it rocks yours, and I claim it, taking handfulls of it, gripping tightly, molding the skin and muscle to palm of my hand. You will be bruised , you think. And then you think, please bruise me . I raise my hand to your face, cupping both nose and mouth so that you can smell the scent. You inhale deeply, as aroused by your own perfume as you’ve ever been by mine, knowing that I am it’s creator, knowing also that I love it and that it arouses us. My hand dips back down between your thighs, sliding easily, penetrating you, deeply, savagely, roughly, and now you can’t stay still because you are impaled upon my fingers that hook themselves brutally into your sweet spot, the one a scant inch in, the one I found with such terrifying ease the very first time. I stroke that swollen spot with two fingers for too brief a time and all your weight centers now, right there upon my hand until I pull my fingers away, leaving you off balance. You feel Zeytinburnu escort that you might fall, but do nothing to stop it. Your arms do not rise to catch your weight, you do not flinch, don’t do anything at all but trust that hand on the back of your neck to steady you, and it does. “Open your mouth wider, pet.” “Yes.” You let your chin fall a little more, let your tongue slide a little over your dry lips, and wait. My hand comes up again, this time with my fingers slick with your lust, and I slide them between your lips. “Suck.” You don’t answer with words this time but with your absolute obedience. You suck vigorously, since this is how I’ve taught you to suck. I pull your head backward a little so that you can watch. “Open your eyes, pet.” You open them, still sucking on my drenched fingers, and focus your sight on my face. I am smiling so tenderly, with such pure affection, that you feel your knees buckle yet again, and tears begin to fill your open and staring eyes. “You are so beautiful.” I take my fingers away from your mouth, and you resist the urge to bite down to keep them there. A light grazing of your teeth does not go unnoticed though. “Hungry?” “Yes.” I am so hungry. Please. I laugh. “Of course you are.” I take a step forward, pulling your head in the direction of my step so that you step backward with me. You feel yourself flooded again, a river of need flowing over your thighs. Yes, toward the bed, yes please, toward the bed. I stop and plunge still slick fingers into your wide open and throbbing pussy. “Patience, pet.” You can’t respond except to whimper, and there are my fingers on your sweet spot again, stroking it hard, fast, so hard it pulls your body forward with each movement outward. You feel your body arch, and my hand in your hair tugging to prevent it, but you don’t care anymore, and the pain you feel when I tug only heightens the pleasure you feel building as my fingers stroke you. I take another step forward, and you move another step backward. “Please.” You dare let the word come.
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