Cocktails, Cocktales.

Cocktails

When you say you want to be someone’s slave, you had better mean every bit of it. Otherwise, why bother.

I felt so passionate for him last night, I could have kissed him till my lips bled. My naked body, small, slender, wrapped around his as he talked on the phone. Pizza, sounded alright. My voluptuous appetite only desired sex, and it was voracious. There wasn’t enough skin to touch, enough fur to nuzzle myself upon, yet I felt so small clinging on to him, like a little parasite.

He said he was stressed out. Let the day end, let the day end. And I could feel it, and had a sense of being profoundly empathetic towards him.

Shots of Sex on the Beach. Tequila Sunrises. Hot tub. I dived into it, and dived down on him. The water was oddly bittersweet and slightly lurid; what is the point of a big dick if you do not chock yourself on it. I gagged and realized it was more difficult for me to hold my breath when I was filling my greedy little mouth with sex.

I pulled myself out of the water, wet hair falling all over my face as he drew me to him tenderly, placing my feet on either side of him as he kissed my forehead. I breathe deeply and laugh. What prurient pleasure this was!

The hot water made us breathe more deeply even as if steamed my senses, made me feel more and more licentious. I pressed myself against his hardness, and was surprised at how easy it was to keep a rhythm under water. He bit my neck and I whispered pleasure into his ear. Nothing of cogence, only everything of the physical.

The Pizza man comes by and we make his night a little more interesting.

Cocktales

You should be careful when you say you wish to be someone’s slave.

Blood. Water. Piss. Soap. Saliva. C(om)e.

Let it all go on me, please. I am so wasted. He pisses all over me, all over my collarbones, dare I let him…? My face. It falls upon my chin, over the bridge of my nose, I close my eyes, I am sure it will burn if it entered them. But it tasted fine upon my tongue, almost like water, nearly flavorless. Only the essence of my subjugation stung.

He had placed me down upon my knees, but I couldn’t be on them any longer. The more I felt his presence, his power, his sex surmounting me, the more I wanted to be conquered. Bigger, bigger, more and more voluptuousness. I cannot be taken, and cannot take, enough. I am lying on the floor now, nearly in tears as he strikes my bottom, hard. So hard as I have never imagined possible. That was how I have always wanted it. Not something done in the pretense of punishment, not something that grossly undermined my tolerance for pain; There was such power to be felt in being treated like a wild, visceral thing. It hurt so much up to the point of uncomfortability. Physically, I felt no pleasure in it. But as I heard the pain making it’s way through my lips, along with the cries of primordial pleasure as he took me in completely, I felt a separation from my humanity. God, you are an animal you filthy little girl.

Now I muse that he has never called me a slut, not even when I had asked him to. There is something to be loved in that.

I can feel blood sticking onto my face, and smell piss, and taste lavender as I lick his toes. How pitiable am I, for I have no more ideas that can get him to rule over me with complete annihilation.

Later in bed, we sleep apart, and I feel sad for awhile. Then he turns onto me in the middle of the night and kisses my back, fondles my breasts. I am pulled into a perfect curvature that fits complely into him.

All day I feel tender and sweet.

xoxox