Empathy

Aching inside, struggling with the need to run to one I’ve loved deeply, fighting the urge to hold them even knowing that it isn’t what he needs.

Angry for their pain and sympathetic to the cause of it, a whirlwind of emotions, own fears mixing with his pain and the mixture caustic in my throat, in my chest. I want to make it better!

….and I can’t.

No one can. Time, they say, heals all wounds, but Time is a harsh Master who forces suffering until he dispenses healing at his whim... and even then the scar remains.

It’s cold and dark outside and I don’t care, I want to walk through it to hold him but I know that in his own pain he would turn away because pain so enveloping can’t be shared, can’t be halved.

...it doesn’t make the desire any less strong.

Quote

Most delicious thing I've heard yet today: "I like to keep the assertion of power rooted in flesh as much as possible." -PlanetEm

Movie Night

A warm tangle of bodies, heat and scent and skin stroking skin until I am drowning in this heavy pool of pleasure which is centered on my guest bed. Her soft breasts against my cheek, teeth in my lip, his warm hands kneading my skin until I am moaning, whimpering, my body arching into theirs.

Her strong hands kneading knots from my shoulders, my neck, slowly encircling my throat and this is not her intention but I am slipping down the rabbit hole into the warm center of my own desire and submission. I already wanted to please her, but now the last button to my willingness has been pressed by her thumb against my larynx.

When her teeth find my lip again, it is enough to send me writhing and whimpering against her, his teeth on my breast clenching my hands helplessly against his back.

I know on some vague level I should be reciprocating more, know that she loves to receive the same small bites which I do, but every movement feels like swimming through warm, sticky arousal-honey and I can barely move except to press closer into his hands, harder into her teeth and I am drowning pleasantly in the love and affection of these two people whom I have come to love intensely.

I do not know if either realizes how deeply down the rabbit hole I have slipped, how warm and hazy my mind feels until I am nothing but a body of sensations and desires and willingness. I do not know if either realizes how much I crave now the sensation of teeth sinking into my skin, of hands tightening painfully on my body, of fingers wrapping around my throat and squeezing, but this is not what they give tonight and the same corner of my mind which craves more also accepts that.

When his mouth finds my breast again, his teeth against my nipple, I can only arch harder into her mouth and moan in pleasure and desire and an inarticulate need to please. I want to slide to my knees from the bed, my mouth running slowly down her body, his hands anchoring me and holding me in place, and slowly find the soft center of her with questing lips and tongue until she screams and arches into me....

Shaved Head HNT

Loving violence

I am somewhere between loving and violent tonight.

I want to stroke your skin lovingly, caress it while you sigh and relax into me, and then I want to draw back my fist and punch you- hard- in the chest.

I want to see your face go flat with surprise- despite how well you know me, how long you've known me, the thought still runs through your mind, "Girls don't hit like that!" but you always forget that I am not a girl and not a boy, not bound by the rules of either.

I want to draw back my fist and punch you, to swing my upper body with the throw and punch through you, into the wall behind you, and watch your face and your body as it impacts, as you hiss in your breath in pain.

I want to lean into your surprised face and kiss you, gently, stroking your face with my fingertips and nibbling your lips gently until you make soft moaning sounds and your body releases the tension of expecting me to hurt you once more.

And then I want to hit you again.

Sex and violence

I am thinking about sex and violence.

I am thinking about pressing you down, holding you down, forcing you open to me, to my tongue and teeth and questing lips.

I am thinking about pressing my fingers into your body, pressing into the tender places in you while you squirm and whimper beneath me.

I want you spread open, the crop to your thighs and the cane to your tender ass while you groan with every blow and bite the gag in your mouth.

I want you writhing beneath me and crying, tears streaking your beautiful face.