PersephoneAlone
Posts: 5
Joined: 10/6/2010
Status: offline
|
My first erotica piece. X posted with my journal (I hope that's okay).
I wear a white dress to meet you. Short, a nod to the warm summer night and to how small you make me feel. Like a child. It's the white dress of a girl who wakes up in her childhood bed, realizing that the nightmares do more than just scare her. I want you to see me in this dress and know what you do to me and how frightened I am. When you take my hand to lead me away from the subway entrance I can feel the blood pounding in my wrists, my ankles, my neck. My skin tingles with it and my head feels so light. I can't think for all the pounding and I worry that I won't be able to say anything for the rest of night. That I'll bore you. If I bore you, would you leave me on the street, forget about me, leave me tingling and drymouthed and never think of me again? You might. Your ruthlessness, I think, is written all over your face. It's almost inhuman. I've never seen anything like it in a man, but it is more than animal. You're so intelligent and aloof, so calculating. And when you look at me in the heat of summer, in my white dress, you're calculating something. You have found the sum of my parts and you take me to a vendor at the corner, selling cold things at inflated prices.
"It's hot out, little miss," you say and smile at me. "Aren't you hot?"
I nod and your grin broadens. You purchase a popsicle, perfectly cylindrical, strawberry. You unwrap it and hand it to me. I try to take it from you but you don't let go. Instead you take me by the shoulder and pull me close to you. My hand is still wrapped around yours, uselessly trying to take the popsicle. This must be what you wanted to happen, then. A struggle between the two of us. A test. I don't know what you're testing at all. The blood pounds harder. My head spins.
"Lick."
"What?"
"Lick it."
I can't resist. I can't say no when you ordered it so plainly, when you didn't give me another option. And your arm around me...you're so much bigger than I am. We're still on the street corner. People walk by - I don't know if they're watching, but still, there is heat rising to my cheeks. I shudder and take a long lick, all the way up. As I do it, I meet your eyes.
Is that good enough? Is that what you wanted? I want it to be good enough. I am horrified at mu own thoughts. I shiver from the cold on my tongue and then my whole body shakes against yours.
"Suck it."
I don't bother to resist, and I keep my eyes on yours. Perhaps I'm hoping that you'll relent if you see what this is doing to me. My mind is all chaos, almost agony. How could I be doing this? Why am I doing this? I lower my mouth on the popsicle. People must be staring now. This is obscene. I'm obscene, with my mouth wrapped around a popsicle that this man is holding out to me. You know I'm scared, I realize, and you enjoy it. You will never treat me gently for all the white dresses in the world. You pull me closer and whisper in a voice so soft, so encouraging, and almost kind, "That's right. Keep going..." and when I bring my lips up, and then down again, towards your hand, "Good girl."
And you let go. Leaving me holding the popsicle, with the whole thing nearly down my throat, and shaking a little. I feel almost silly. I must be blushing when I take it out of my mouth. You steer me to the left. "Shall we?"
I follow you through the city streets. I still nibble on the strawberry popsicle and it melts, and I'm terribly self conscious about it because your eyes keep flicking towards my lips.
"Where are we going?" I ask. My voice is a little squeaky.
"You said you like dancing?"
"Are we going dancing?"
You nod. "There's a club in this neighborhood. I think you'll like it." The tone of your voice means I have no choice in the matter.
"Do you dance?" I can see you dancing. It's probably incredibly dirty, all rhythm, no grace.
"Sometimes. I'd prefer to just watch you dance tonight."
And you do watch. The club seems exclusive, masculine and modern, but you get in without a hitch. My little white dress doesn't protect me here. It singles me out as prey, as vulnerable and so girlish. I stay on the dance floor for hours, music so loud I can barely breathe. Every time I try to take a break, you push me back out after handing me a glass of water. I can't tell what you're thinking, but I know you're watching me, eyes dark. My body betrays me as I swing my hips wider, grinding and practically clawing the air. I lose myself in my own body. It's dangerous, but I think you like so, I let myself fall. You send me two text messages while I'm dancing. The first:
Let them dance with you. Let anyone who tries.
And the second:
Stop pushing their hands away.
You were referring to a man who had been behind me, pants bulging against me. Hard. His hands had been pulling my dress up inch by inch, grabbing and stroking at more of my thigh with each beat. I had looked at you, but you were talking to someone. I had pushed his hands down. The next person to approach me is a woman and my breath is stolen for a moment. She is the woman to my girlishness. And she is the woman you your man. Her eyes, arms around me - there is dangerous seduction there. She squeezes my ass, then laughs low in my ear, all the while keeping the beat with her body. Then her hand are between my legs, I'm trying not to cry out. I'm wet, I realize. I've been wet practically since I saw you tonight. All the tingling and the pounding - it had gone straight down. And now this woman has her fingers buried deep in it and her lips find my neck. I feel another body behind me, a tell-tale hardness against my ass. I'm drowning. i let myself fall and I'm drowning and I can't breathe as he reaches around to knead my breasts. There are so many other bodies on the dance floor, I don't think anyone notices what they do to me. He runs his finger nails lightly along my clavicle. She begins to stroke my clit, softly, at first. His lips, too, are on my neck. Then his teeth. I wonder who they are, why they are doing this, but those thoughts are completely burned away by the terrible fire they've ignited in me. I breathe by the grace of god alone. There is no other explanation. With the beat and their hands and their tongues, I surely should have died by know. She is stoking the fire, she strokes faster, harder. He pushes at my ass with his hips.
Then she is gone and he follows. They move on to other partners and they don't look at me again. Had that lasted more than a minute? I think for a moment that I must be high. I forget where I am, and all I can feel is the burn. I continue moving though. The music is a tangible force, like your eyes, like your commands. I keep dancing, and a few minutes later I see you talking and laughing with the two of them. The front of my dress strains against my breath. You come towards me, leaving them behind. I'm still reeling from the encounter, shaking like a leaf.
"Well, look at you. Is this why you wore white?"
I look down. The dress is drenched in sweat, as if someone had poured a bucket of water over me. It clings to my skin, half-sheer. You can see my nipples, the V shape my thighs form when they meet, I'm sure you can see my ass.
"You little slut," you laugh, walking off the dance floor, to a door next to the bar. I try to be indignant about it, I try to protest as we enter a hall full of doors, but you pull at my hair, hard.
"If you aren't a slut now, little girl, you're going to be one when I'm through with you."
In one, impossibly fast moment, you've opened a door thrown me into a room, and shut the door behind you. You locks us in. I stumbled and fell with the momentum of it, and now I lay on the floor, looking up at him. You stand above me for a moment, considering. I vaguely think that I might bruise from the fall, as you slowly kneel to straddle me and deliberately begin to tear at my clothes. You carefully rip up the front of my skirt. I look at your arms, so thick and strong. You tear the fabric like it's tissue paper. You tear open the top of my dress, exposing my breasts.
"That's better. Isn't it?"
I nod.
"Say yes, little girl."
"Yes." My own voice surprises me, I though I had lost control of it long ago.
You get up and walk to a padded table, the kind you might see in a doctors office, in the middle of the room.
"Crawl."
I try to roll over and push myself up on my hands and knees. It don't even think about the order. I can't think anymore. I shake and stumble, muscles betraying me. I try to breathe. I think I might faint. I'm on my hands and knees and you're waiting for me, across the room. I can't look at you. I feel the burn of shame on my body as I move. I crawl. So. Slowly. I reach your feet and nearly collapse there, but you order, "Stay." I obey and remain on my hands and knees.
You lean down beside me and run a hand up my thigh. Your fingers slip into the wetness and stop there.
"You are a little slut. Aren't you?" Your voice is dangerous again. An order to answer. I can't take it anymore. I groan hips, slipping your fingers deeper. You remove them, and bring your hand down on my ass. Hard. The slap rings through the room.
"Answer."
"Yes."
You slap my ass again. A third time. A fourth. A fifth.
"Say it."
My voice shakes. "I'm a slut."
You keep spanking me. I lose count, but at some point I begin crying out with each slap. And with each slap, each sting, I can feel my cunt get wetter. It runs down my thigh and you notice.
"You like it when I hurt you?"
"Yes."
"You filthy little girl." You spank me again, harder than before. I hadn't known you were holding back. You lean forward, your mouth next to my ear.
"Go lie down on the table, little girl. Face down."
I obey, feeling the wetness on my thighs. When my face is pressed against the cool vinyl, you order, "Spread," and my legs open automatically. You lift up the hem of my dress, leaving my ass and lower back open to the warm air in the room.
You reach under the table and take out a leather whip. I almost don't believe it, but you don't give me time to process it before you're a yard away, cracking it on my back.
I think that I scream. The pain is unimaginable. The world blacks out for a moment - I do, too. For a few seconds after I come to, I am taking account of my body, you tore the back of my white dress and you broke the skin of my back, I can feel the blood leaking out of the welt. My face is drenched in tears, and my throat raw from sobbing, though I don't remember that at all. My skin is cold from the sweat of the faint. My cunt is wetter than ever, and pulsing, aching for relief. You crack the whip twice more over my back, my desperate need exposed to you. Even as I cry - this time I'm conscious and feel all the shame of my tears - you know I like it. I sob harder. This is what I feared in you when I met you, this is why my heart has been pounding all night. You know me, the little girl, because you've met me before.
You approach the table from the front, grab me under my shoulders and pull me forward so that my chin rests on the edge of the table. You crouch down so that we're at eye level. Your dark stare shoots straight through me and I feel another twinge in my cunt. It's no longer desire, it's need. I am convinced will not live, I will not walk out of this room without relief from the fire you started inside me.
"Do you want something, girl?"
"Yes," I choke out.
"What do you want?"
I can't. I shake my head, sobbing too hard. You lift the whip and flinch.
"I want....I want you to touch...me..." It's barely a whisper. I know why you are doing this.
You're laughing at me. "You want more than that, little miss..."
"I want you...I want your...cock," a long gasping sob, "...inside me."
"Beg."
You're doing this because you know me. You've met me before. Every night. In those nightmares that don't just scare me...
"Please. Please fuck me."
"Like you mean it, little miss."
"I need you inside me. I'll do anything. Please!" My body convulses involuntarily. I need you so badly; I can't help it.
You stand up, and stroke my hair. "That's right, little girl, shhh....there's a good girl." You unzip your pants. You don't even pull them down as you take out your cock. My dress is ripped, sweat soaked, and bloodstained, and you're still fully clothed. I stare at the thick heavy cock in your hand.
"I think you know how to do this part," you say, amused. As I lick the salty skin tentatively, you softly add, "...slut."
It sets me off. In a frenzy I have only ever know in nightmares, I push myself forward and up from the table. I take your cock, huge and hot, in my mouth and know nothing but the stuffed, stretched feeling of it as I lick and suck and swirl and pull. I am overwhelmed with it. I groan around you. it might have been a scream if my mouth wasn't full of cock.
"Good girl," I hear you say, "good, good girl."
This is good enough for him. I'm pleasing him. I live to please him. I can hardly hear the thoughts in my own head anymore, let alone question them, but you seem to know exactly what I'm thinking. You pull my hair to stop me and you pull out of my mouth. I whine and you laugh. My desperation makes you laugh.
"Turn over, little slut."
You straddle me and I look up at you. You seem so huge, like you've taken over my mind, or the world or both. There is nothing but your weight on top of me, your cruel eyes, your laugh. You pin me down by the forearms. I've already spread my legs wide open. Pleasepleaseplease.
And you're inside of me. You slip in so easily through the wetness there's a split second that I don't notice it, but then I feel your cock. I'm so full with it, I feel like a might burst. I'm clutch at your skin and let out a groan. You move in, then out, slowly, making every inch explode with the feeling of your stretching and pushing. You speed up and my vision goes white. My skin burns on contact with yours. I'm falling and spinning and space and time don't exist, just you and the way your body goes taut with each thrust. You go deeper and deeper, and the explosions grow hotter and more destructive. You're destroying me from the inside out, I'm sure of it. Don't stop. Please, deeper, harder, faster. I think it, but all I can do it let out a high keen as you relentlessly pound into me, the full force of your impossible strength behind you and might break me. It seems endless and you really might break me, but I don't care because my whole world is exploding with your cock inside me and yes, there....perfect.
You cum inside me without warning and you pull out get up, and clean yourself up efficiently. It barely registers that it's over, because you've left my poor mind in shambles, until you speak and frighten me into alertness. You give me an appraising look and smile.
You say, "You know, I really might keep you."
I start in fear. Keep me...
You'll do this to me again. And I will obey every time. And you will do it for as long as you like and I won't ever say no, not to anything you'll ever say.
And I know I won't be sleeping tonight for fear of what I'll dream...
You leave the room and I lay on the table, your cum leaking all over my exposed thighs and my welted back rubbed raw against the vinyl of the table. Shivers of nightmarish, gorgeous terror run through me. I hear my phone go off in my bag, forgotten by the door where I dropped it ages ago, when I was still a free girl...
I shakily get up to answer the text message. I look down at myself. Legs sticky, dress stained and ripped to near extinction. I look back down at my phone.
Little girl, I hope you'll be alright walking home in that dress...
|
In which: I get hot and heavy - 
Profile
RE: In which: I get hot and heavy - 
New Messages
No New Messages
Hot Topic w/ New Messages
Hot Topic w/o New Messages
Locked w/ New Messages
Locked w/o New Messages
Post New Thread