Month: November 2014

the consequences of rhetorical questions

I had to relearn how to lace my fingers through her hair. A grip that was authoritative before painful.

I kept her trapped against the desk. “Do you remember your place?”

“H-here, master.”

Fingers brushed her nipple, caught it, tightening. Her back arched into a gasp.

“It is a yes or no question, NE.”

“Yes! Yes.”

I leaned in, “Can you feel the heat of my hand?”

“Yes.”

“Do you miss how it feels?”

“Y-yes.”

“Where do you belong?”

“Here, master.”

I roughly pulled her head to the side, my fingers biting into the inside of her thigh.”Yes or no. Where do you belong?”

Her breathing was labored, uneven. A second passed, then two. My fingers tightened in her hair “Where do you belong?”

“Yes, master.”

I smiled against her throat.

awoken

There is a right way to awaken.

Eyes closed, slumber’s reach still tugging at your edges. The slow awareness of your own body.

A subtlety of place, of fingers brushing hair from your eyes so that it settles on the pillow around you.

And then warmth of hands on your hips, felt through your shift. Fingers gathering the fabric along your hips, drawing it up from your calves, the bottom of your thighs.

A shiver, because the morning is cool and the air on bare skin is more then just the kiss of the world around you; it is a window of exposure, a moment of possibility. But the fingers pause with the shift mid-thigh.

Kiss, left at your pulse, a kiss that savors your own heat as a point of ingress. Nuzzling, nudging your head lightly to the side, teeth nip at your skin just sharp enough to make you gasp. And as your lips part, they are met, a kiss stolen in a most delightfully deceitful way.