She used to poke me through my cage.
I was wrapped up in chains of all types, but mostly it was guilt, fear, and shame. They often appeared as kindness and empathy, which isn’t at all a bad thing, but there was always something beneath it. She could see right through it all though, and she made it her mission to keep poking until she found what was hiding.
The easiest way in was through turn-ons I didn’t know I had.
“You can’t do anything to me that I will say no to.”
I would growl and push her against the wall as she moaned and shook her head. I’d threaten to tie her to my radiator and fuck her ass until she cried, and she’d moan even louder while telling me I didn’t have it in me. When I slapped her face she’d spit at me. Even when I pushed her to her knees and forced my cock down her throat it was clear she wanted more than I had to give.
The closest we got was in a fantasy world we created after too much tequila. I kidnapped her on her way home from school and tied her to the floor in my room. She struggled and kicked as I tore and cut her clothes from her body and her resistance pulled no punches. She made me work for it, and I knew that if I brought my cock anywhere close to her mouth she would bite. She was always soaking wet by the time I touched her, but still she squirmed and snarled as she did everything in her power to get away. I fucked her as hard as I could, dropping every ounce of restraint I had, and not denying myself a thing.
If I wanted her ass I took it. If I wanted to bite, slap, or choke her I did, but hiding inside her lust was always another challenge. Was that all I could do? Was that the whole monster or was I still holding back. What was I so afraid of?
When we lay exhausted in the early morning hours, I finally untied her, and I held her tightly to make sure everything was okay. She kissed me and said it was wonderful. I wrapped my arms around her and revelled in the destruction we had done to my room, but no matter how far we had gone there was always somewhere else to go.
Each time I returned to normal her love just barely covered her disappointment.
Guy New York
(If you enjoy my writing, you might like my novel, The Island on The Edge of Normal, now available on Kindle and in Print.)
![Proper Nouns
My favourite nouns aren’t really so proper … they have an in your face quality and cutting edges …
But what’s proper anyway … and who gets to define it …
If my love puts me down on my knees on cold hard ground … worshiping most properly … even at risk of discovery … where is the disgrace … where the indignity … I see no impropriety …
Let my heart’s purpose then be fulfilled … though the wind bites hard … and concrete chafes on sensitive skin … I know what’s proper … and ache to adore that which is properly perfect … my favourite noun of all …
Our virtue may be in our intentions … but it is lived out through our deeds … one without the other is an empty promise …
So name the place then love … where I shall kneel at last … perhaps just call it love and say no more …
That name or another … is just another noun … what matter if it seems quite proper or not … in the substance of that place will be all our redemption … where you are so am I … and life is lived …
ftloas:
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