Your Weekly Dose

See, instead of tying my wrists to each other, you would push my left arm down and tie it to the bed.

Of course, I would struggle against you. But you'd push my right arm down and I'd fight some more, gritting my teeth and turning my muscles to cord. You would win.

I'd quiet down a little. But you, you know my strengths. You'd know what I was planning, too. You would cut that plan off at the pass. Tie my legs down. And apart.

With me secured and struggling only uselessly, you'd straddle my chest and look down. Take hold of my hair. Rub your cock over my mouth. Push it in and fuck a few strokes, thrusting till I gagged.

I'd moan.

You'd pull out and start stroking yourself over my face, my starry eyes. You'd run a thumb over my smile, press your palm to my windpipe. Lay ropes of come across my lips.

The empty examination glove under my pillow. Stretched, slightly, by the ghost of your hand, then folded in on itself. An accordion. The dried lube and come cracks off in my hand when I pick it up. I lick my palm. My cunt stretches, beats in time with my pulse.

Normally when you take my jaw in your hand and twist my neck, I end up looking out the window. Or the shadows of branches and leaves on the curtains. I close my eyes and try to feel the light tapping my eyelids.

Tonight, tonight there is nothing.

It is pitch black out here: a place where there are no streetlights and the moon is new. Even the outline of the window has disappeared. I rely on my fingers, your breath, my ears.

You don't miss, you know my dimensions that well. Your grip is gentle as you feel for the tension building in my bunched and slackened muscles. My skin feels everything, every hair on your body, the movement of air and the pressure where we meet. It turns hot where your look, hungry and fierce, falls on me.

I’ve been shut in this room for hours with the paint fumes and the brushes and the rags. Up the ladder, down the ladder; I am being too careful, that’s possibly true.

When you arrive, I’m not ready.

You look angry, but I know you’re glad to have a reason to punish me. You reach behind my head, use my hair to turn me around. You shove me, stumbling, towards the ladder, tell me to put my hand out and hold the top step. You pull my pants down to my ankles, pull my white panties up between my ass cheeks.

Usually, your technique is meticulous, your pace measured. Right now, you're all over the place, your hand landing random smacks; some heavy, some light. You give me no time to prepare between and I am caught off guard, unprepared.

Soon has changed from a word we use to soothe each other to an actual description. Not even tomorrow's tomorrow. Just tomorrow. Those kilometers covered and clicked off on the odometer.

I have swept out all the corners; I have changed the sheets to fresh; I have flipped the mattress and tightened the screws on the bed frame. I am ready for you to be here.

Tonight I will lie in bed and think about touching myself, stroking here and pulling there. But I won't, not with my fingers. I will read the concentrated sensation from every nerve I have and almost feel your body on me.

If I manage to take my belt off smoothly in front of you, it's only because of luck and all that practice. On your knees in front of me, I can tell you're impressed. There's a slight dilation of your pupils and you stop your breath a moment.

I fold it in half and crack it hard first. You flinch. My pussy swells as I walk behind you, making the belt a loop. I put it around your neck and pull it. Not tight.

I watch your shoulders stiffen, I watch you decide to trust me.

My cunt lips are so full they ache.

One hand on the belt, keeping the tension firm, I reach down, my hand sliding over your ribs, cupping your breast, my finger and thumb make your nipple stiff. I take your earlobe between my teeth and flick it with my tongue.

You don't spare me. Full weight on my back. You've used your knees to pin my arms at my sides. My legs are useless, my feet just off the edge of the bed can't find purchase anywhere.

The hand on the back of my head is gentle at first, but you gradually spin my hair tighter and tighter into your fingers. My scalp tingles, then aches. The pain spools down from those tortured follicles.

My neck is angled back, my windpipe is squeezed. The air echoes as I pull it in and push it out. You have my head yanked so far towards you I can see you face, upside down, your pointed teeth show between curved lips.

I'm sure I've locked the door. I always lock the door. But there she is, so it seems I didn't quite. Over the rhythm of the train she came in quiet. I only looked up when the door snicked closed. The surprise of her knocked me out of my squat over the wet toilet seat, my thighs sliding across plastic.

"So. Sorry." she says. "It just slid open. I had no. Idea."

But her eyes are too wide, too hungry, trained too hard on where my skirt ends at the top of my meaty thighs.

I have one split second to decide how this will go.

"No," I say. "I'm sure you didn't."

I open my legs, turn to take some toilet paper. Pull two sheets off. I open my legs wider. My skirt slides further up. I can feel the cool air in the bathroom swirling over my naked cunt.

I fold the paper squares over. Once. Twice. Spread my lips to make sure I can get all the piss.

In the mirror I can see her, with one hand up her shirt, pinching a nipple, the other one working in her pants. She leans against the wall. She watches me through her eyelashes. Breath catching in her chest, hands fast.

I pull your legs open and push them down, open. You're bare, pulled all the hair off your pussy like I told you to. My hand fits over you perfectly.

Hard, you say, I want it hard.

Enough, I say. And start light.

Holding your cunt lips together, I squeeze slightly. Pull the lips apart and blow across your hole. Mash them back together. Tug. Then taps. Gentle, gentle. But with building force.

You squirm with the 10th strike, when the taps start turning to slaps. You mewl at the 18th, when your pussy is dark red and starting to swell.

I pat my knee and you sway yourself over to me. Hips wide, thick thighs rubbing. The ankles I can circle with one hand. You place your ass gently in my lap. Your back to me.

You bow your head, grind in.

My hands on those hips, I push you forward. I want space between us, enough for my hand. To slide between us, along the crack of your ass. To cup your swollen pussy. I tap it a little, stiff exploratory fingers. Let my wrist loosen. Hit harder. Till you're hot, so hot.