Mine

When I put your collar on, you’ll be my filthy, depraved little slut. You’ll do anything, everything, that I fucking want you to. You’ll take my cock however I say, whenever I say, because I say it. Because you’re mine, and you know it; you’re mine alone.

You’ll be able to do all of this because at the core or it, you know me and trust me. You’ll be mine, and can be mine again and again, because you know I would never betray that trust. It’s unique and shared between the two of us.

When I wrap my arms around you to take off your clothes, these thoughts will run through your head. I’ll strip off your clothes and leave you exposed, naked to the world. Cool air making little bumps across your skin. You’ll breathe faster, knowing my eyes are on you, as I circle around you, predatory. You’ll keep your eyes downcast, as they should be, as is right. Because you’re mine and you love it.

When I ask you a question, you’ll respond promptly, to the point, with the touch of meekness you know I like to hear. You’ll make your surprised sounds as my fingers explore, as they violate your body. You’ll beg.

You’ll wish to the innermost core of yourself that I’ll fuck you. That I’ll shove my cock inside your wet, slutty, submissive little pussy and mold you around it like putty. Maybe if you’re good, and if you’re lucky, I will.

You’ll get off thinking about what a filthy whore you are for me. What a perfect little piece of ass you are. What a good, obedient slut you can be for me. Thinking about it, you’ll be more aroused. More needy. You’ll be lost in those circular thoughts as you feel my hands roaming over your body. Owning you. This is what you’re good for: being used, doing what you’re told, and pleasing me.

Watching you, lost in your own world as I whisper disgusting, delicious things into your ear, is fucking hot. I’ll test and prod, using different words and different methods, watching as you drive yourself mad with your own mind. I’ll trace my fingers over your chest… your ass… your hips and neck…

I’ll tap you lightly at first, a hand landing softly on one cheek of your ass. You’ll be surprised at it, but that only lasts a moment. Then I’ll feel you press your ass closer to me, swaying it slowly from side to side the way you know I like, silently hoping for another testing swat. You’ll want it so bad, to feel my hand again on your ass. To hear the soft hiss as it passes through the air and then the sharp slap of it against your taut skin. You’ll hear and feel it soon, as though driving home everything I’ve been telling you. Again… and again...

The sounds you make when I spank you… the gasping moaning mess you become… is delicious. I feel you shiver under my hands, repeating phrases and telling me what’s going on in your head. Your mind, I have to say, is a delightful place. When your words come broken by panting and whining, I know you’re getting ready.

As my good, fuckable, obedient little slut, it’s only proper that I regularly reduce you to a loose pile of fucked, sweaty, tangled limbs. Proper, and lots of fun.

====================

When we’re done, I’ll take off your collar. I’ll hold you and whisper reassurances as you come back to earth. You’ll cling to me as though I were the only thing in the world.

I know you better than I know anyone else. Yours are the bright eyes that I see behind my closed eyelids. Yours is the smooth skin that I feel in blind memory. I depend on you, and I trust you, more than anyone else.

You still surprise me, even with our thousand whispered closenesses. You still make me smile, even with all the palpable silences we’ve suffered. Alone and together. We’ve spent almost every day together, and I can’t think of a single person on this planet I would rather say that of.

When I say that I love you, I don’t mean that I love an idea of you, or a fictitious ideal. I mean that I love you. On your good days and bad days. I love you when you’re a rotten bitch and I love you when you’re a brilliant, beautiful genius. I love you when I’m a fucking asshole, when I’m wrong and you’re right and I just don’t get it. I love you when your hair is lank on your face, sweat on your forehead, sniffles wracking your body because they haven’t stopped for days. You’re beautiful even on those days, and I love you.

Playing with you, the way we do, I get to love you another way. I get to love the secret you, that you only share with me. I get to love the vulnerable, sweetly passionate you that only unfolds when we’re together and alone. I get to peel away the shared parts of you and leave you resplendent and exposed, reflecting a secret, hidden light. It’s beautiful, and it’s mine alone.

-J