He reaches forward to gently brush some hair away from my cheekbone. Strands of my mane are caught in the streaks of my tears and he carefully picks them away with a strange, precise delicacy, filled with intimate worship and respect.
For all his dirty act, his efforts to abuse me, I only hear the words “you’re beautiful” knowing full well that his punishments were a shallow excuse for how much he adores our union. He, my Master and I, his Mistress.
In our afterglow we’re both lost and found, he’s wandering inside me, as my enchanted forest envelops him, and as his sticky spunk journeys deeper inside me.
I’m feeling horny with thorny tendrils reaching out, his Ivy tattoos abstracted, our anxieties released, our roots and branches splay and bind, our woodland now woven together as one.
Finally, he pulls the thick wood of his cock out from within me, he covers me with intimacy as he slips around and lets me climb up onto him, and as our eyes connect, for the first time since mine met his at the door, he asks the question he always asks:
“Ready for more?”
And the hazel in his eyes just brightens like it’s burning, as the deep ocean green swirls within mine, and we begin again.
Somehow he always finds the best locus of torment for the occasion, he’s an expert, and I hate him for his dominion over me as much as I want him.
Impossibly I’m feeling myself buckle, he feels so fucking good as he dismantles me and takes me apart piece by piece, cleaning me out, and yet the bastard knows purity isn’t why I’m here.
I ride up astride him, my blouse falling open, my soft breasts aching for his mouth. He’s free of his jeans, he pulls off his top, his torso rippling with energy. I straddle his lap, his tattooed arms reach around me, holding me, controlling me.
His rough stubble face nuzzles into me, searching beneath the nape of my neck, I’m arching backwards, sensing he’s keen for the scent of my wanting, feeling the firm swelling in my breasts.
I reach between my thighs. And he’s so hard. He’s impossible. And for the love of God, I confess, and I beg you to forgive my weakness, for I can’t help wanting more of his cock.