poeticdesires

http://neilfeather.com/welcome-under-construction the life and musings of a kinky slut

Splayed

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I was vulnerable. I was restrained. I was unable to do anything but take what came next.

My body laid on his bed. My legs parted. My arms pulled aside. Naked. A black blindfold over my eyes.

His sheets were soft. The pillow under my head was silk. I smelled candles burning. It was the most comfortable one could be, naked, open, and waiting. Wondering what he would do to me. Wondering what my next moments had in store.

Was he still in the room? I didn’t think so. My heart raced, at first, but it had calmed finally. I could’ve heard a pin drop, if he had hardwood floors. He didn’t. Plush carpet. An unremarkable color.

I heard the click of the door. I could feel he was in the room now.

A cold drop kissed my lips. Was he holding an ice cube? I felt it now, on my lips, the heat of my breath melting the liquid into my mouth.

Mischievously I snapped up the cube with my teeth and crunched it happily. I knew I’d be punished for that. I didn’t mind.

He still said nothing. I felt the sting on my inner thighs and cursed loudly. I called him a son-of-a-bitch, knowing that would only egg him on more. Another sting. Another curse. We had our routine.

When he tired, either out of fatigue or boredom (since I couldn’t see his face, I didn’t know which), I heard him put the cane away.

A few breaths later, his thumb was on my lips.

“Say it.” I wouldn’t, and bit him. He pulled his thumb away.

“Say it.” He held my throat. I had no more words. No more bratty comments. No more curses. He asked for what I could not give.

The sting of his slap on my breast. He knew I really hated that.

“Say it.” His slap on my chest again. My silence remained.

He wanted too much. He needed too much.

“Say it.” His fingers on my clit. My hips lifted towards him, towards his hand.

It was not long before I was begging, too, for his request was begging, pleading for my words.

But now I pleaded for my pleasure. I pleaded for that sweet release. I pleaded for us to be something other than the man who loves a woman who could not tell him she loved him too, even though she did.

“Say it.”

I couldn’t.

And as I laid, splayed out on his bed, so close to sweet ecstasy yet so far away from release, I realized I wasn’t the only naked vulnerable person in the room.


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