sinnocentky
Posts: 28
Joined: 2/19/2004
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ok.. this is my first attempt at writing a 'story'. but anyway.. here is part I
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There is a fine line… such a fine line that to the untrained eye, it is invisible. To someone who knows not of what I speak that fine line is never even acknowledged. But those who know of that line, who have teetered on it and hung from it, are always aware. Some of us even hunt for that line, mentally, physically, and emotionally. We seek it in the darkness, a hunger in our depths driving us forward to feel it once more, to learn it further.
My mind had been racing all day, since his phone call. For weeks he had been distracted by work, by family. It had been weeks since I had seen HIM, unfettered and raw, and every nerve ending in my body buzzed with the anticipation of his touch. His touch… that in one split second could go from a tender caress to an eruption of force,of control, of power. The thought of that alone was enough to stoke the fires of fear and desire deep within my belly. I could feel at the same time, my walls inflating, rising - broadening. It was going to be a long night I could feel it.
His eyes caught mine as he continued moving around the room, casually unbuttoning his shirt. They locked on… target sighted… and he smiled. That fucking sinister-evil-loving smile. God I hate him. I love him more though. Nostrils flared. He could smell me. The beast had picked up my scent. I was betrayed by my own being. Fuck. That look goes right through me, plummeting to the pit of my stomach like an anvil dropped from the twentieth floor. I had learned to read his looks over time and that sinister smile had just morphed into a deep, “I’m going to show you how much you love me”, smile. My fingers curled around the ropes binding my wrists to the bedposts. White knuckled fear breathed as he moved behind me to where I could not see. Fear not of him, but of where he had the ability to take me, of what he made me need to give to him.
I could hear my own heart beat. Pulsating. Losing myself in that primal rhythm was too easy. Fuck too easy. Biting my tongue to keep myself grounded - guarded. The slight pain keeping me aware. I felt his breath on the curve of my neck. Where the fuck did he come from. Hot. Moist. My flesh crawling with goose bumps, his teeth sinking into that tender flesh, his tongue trailing up to my ear… whispering, “I want to fuck with your soul, baby. You are going to give it to me, you are going to feed me”. My breath hissed from me. I felt every bit of heat in my body rush to my cunt as his words fluidly seeped to my core, the scent of leather taunting me as his blindfold slipped over my eyes, turning my world black, turning it inward.
I struggle to contain it, I think because I fear it. That need. That hunger. I fear how far it will make me go, how far it will take me. I know I am safe in his hands, but there are times when the line of reason is blurred… when I don’t want him to stop, but instead want him to split me open and devour me. That fine line. I fear it.
So, I struggle. Hearing the sounds of him in the background, the sounds within my self, in my mind, far louder. Why do I need this? What makes me tick so off-kilter makes me hunger to lose myself in him, in where he takes me, aches for that freedom? Am I strong enough to be what he needs? Am I brave enough to let myself go?
“I’m fucking talking to you, bitch.”
Instinctively, a low growl flowed from my throat. My hands and feet strained against the ropes that held them bound in confinement. This isn’t going to be easy. He knows it. He loves it. When we first met he said he never would forget what I said about truly submitting to someone. I had said that it shouldn’t always be easy. If it were easy, what did it require of you, where did it push you to grow, where was the act of submitting any part of yourself if it were easy. He has never let me forget that.
“What, Daddy?” No answer. The sound of his breathing. My heart beat. Rhythmic.
“Daddy?”
Wincing as his fingers tangled in my hair… dragging my head back, forcing a gasp of surprise from me. Dull aching pain as it felt every single hair was being ripped from it’s home, my back arching, desperately trying to move with his hand. “Did you just growl at me, my little nasty bitch?”
Panic. “yes, Daddy”.
I feel its point grazing the vulnerable dip in my neck, that spot right in the middle, taunting… hovering over my pulsing flesh. “Why would you growl at me baby?” Just swallowing makes the sharp tip sink momentarily deeper into my flesh. Mind flashing, unable to focus, the steel reflecting its coldness on my skin. I feel myself slipping into his world, caught… beneath an endless web of his weaving. FOCUS! His fingers in my hair tighten… tugging… forcing my neck to arch deeper, feeling like at any moment my hairs would be ripped from my head. “Because it is hard, Daddy… because I can’t just hand it to you… because I… I fucking hate it.” He already knew though, that as much as I hated it… I loved it tenfold… needed it twenty fold. So did he.
His lips brushed the tip of my nose, landed softly on my forehead and he whispered, “Don’t move” and I knew. I knew that no matter where we were going… no matter how we got there… that he had it under control. He was driving and I needed to buckle up and ride. A brief moment of calm. Breathe.
Fire! I couldn’t move beneath it. A burning hot trail traveled down between my breasts… my mind screaming, “stop! I can’t”. But still it moved, his presence slowly etched into the softness of my belly, and it stopped, and it became my world. Icy, fiery tendrils snaked from the crimson path to invade my body… seeking solace in my cunt… in my nipples… my belly… my mind. I felt Him breathe me in, his face almost touching mine… inhaling my pain and breathing it back into me. His pulse pounded; feed me. My soul moaned… and whimpered… and hungered.
I felt his tongue, soft… warm, graze over my right nipple. Aching, stiffening beneath the moist heat, him. Back arching not so much in offering as in need, wanting more of him and of course, being the kind man that he is, he gave. His tongue glided over the curve of my breast to find that fine line he created, and he stroked down its path tasting me, caressing me. A guttural moan slipped past my lips, cut short by the bite of a clamp on my still wet nipple. Overwhelmed. It flooded me… crashing into the eruption of pain from my other nipple as it too fell prey. It clawed its way into me, deeper, and it started to become me.
“Give it to me.”
It echoed in my ears. It swam with the fire and the pain and the passion. His hand grabbed my pussy… molding to it… engulfing it… possessing it. My clit. Oh my fucking god. Hips grinding to press even harder against the heat of his palm, his fingers slipping between my swollen lips and impaling me. A Puppet. His puppet. Starting to fall into that state of tormenting blissful confusion, where one sensation becomes the next and you don’t know where one stops and the next begins. That state where you no longer recognize that fine line between pleasure and pain, where nothing makes sense, and I want him to take more of me.
Sometimes, emptiness can be a consuming feeling. His fingers slipped from my heat and his touch left me and I felt barren. My nipples drumming a slow steady ache… stinging heat cutting me in half… slick walls of need throbbing for him. I felt him rise up… I felt his eyes on my flesh… his gaze penetrating me. My words whimpered from me, “Please Daddy… “.
The sound of his footsteps… quietly sinking into the carpet… echoed, amplified in my mind. I could feel the slick sheen of sweat, the heat, rising from my body. Sensations swirled from the outside in, through me. Deep within me I knew that when he came back it was going to be hard. He was going to push me further… and then further still.
Each second warped into an eternity. I became more aware of the burning lines around my wrists and ankles… the throbbing ache in my nipples, the sticky wetness between my thighs, and the stinging line down my center. It all became louder and it mocked me as I tried to regain focus… control, as if it knew on it’s own that eventually, I would embrace it.
An indescribable shudder ran through me. He was watching me. I was unaware if he had even left the room. I felt him close, the energy from him, his essence, stroking mine. Closer. I felt the bed shift and suddenly he was there, hovering over me. I could feel his heart beating, or was that mine?
“Do you want it, baby?” His voice was like velvet, blanketing over me. I couldn’t even speak. It had already begun; he knew it was no longer even a question of want; I needed him to take me, to bring me inside of him. His fingers trailed up the insides of my thighs, kneading. Slowly his grip tightened, fingers digging into my flesh, squeezing. “I asked you a question, Jennifer.”
It pounded behind my eyes, raced through my veins, filled my mouth- leaving no room for words. Sounds escaped that I didn’t recognize as my own at first. He knew. I felt his body shift lower, settling between my legs. I needed to see him. The blackness of my world suddenly consumed me, became my enemy. Bending my head, turning it to either side, struggling to push it off with my shoulder, with the friction of the bed. Sucking in my breath as the bite of a clothespin burned through my swollen labia… then another… and another.
The blindfold caught on the curve of my shoulder and finally shifted, slipping free as the pins continued to stake a claim, lining both sides of my labia. Burning. Biting. White pain re-ignited in my nipples as he tugged the chain, pulling slowly to draw it up. I felt the cold metal against my lips, searing heat racing through me, gasping as I took the chain between my teeth without a thought and raised my head slightly to ease the screaming of my nipples.
Then I saw him. I panted around the chain, as I looked at him. Watching him drink in my struggle as I tried to accept the rushes of sensation, of pain. His eyes never left mine as his hand grazed over the quivering ends of the clothespins, sending new waves through me to chase the ones ahead of them. He had that look in his eyes, wild, feral, a hungry beast. That look, my knowledge of him and the look in his eyes made my center turn fluid. Warmth flooded through me while at the same time, my mind raced at such a pace I couldn’t even follow it.
His hand shifted and my gaze landed there. Suddenly I longed for the blindfold, I wanted not to see as my heart kicked up five speeds. I wanted to not see the sleek cane resting in his fingertips, an energy all its own. His free hand moved forward, sliding up over my thigh and I trembled from my gut from the cocktail of hunger and denial, love and hate.
< Message edited by sinnocentky -- 6/20/2005 1:30:59 PM >
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"We all enter this world the same way: naked, screaming, soaked in blood. But if you live your life right, that kind of thing doesn't have to stop there"
- Dana Gould
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a fine line... part I - 
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