SICKLE 79

Not for a little weekend fun. I mean for long enough that you stop counting the days. Long enough that the rope starts to feel like it belongs etched into your skin, like your wrists have always been bound behind your back and your ankles have always been spread apart and this is just how your body is shaped now. I want you to forget what it feels like to close your legs.

And I want to be the only thing that feels good. That’s the part I keep coming back to. I want to edge you stupid on my cock and then pull out and let you sit there shaking and desperate with nothing to grind against because I’ve taken everything away. Nothing to fall back on. Just your own wetness dripping down your thighs and the memory of how I felt inside you and the slow maddening understanding that you can’t do anything about it until I come back and give you more.

But don’t worry, I’ll always come back. That’s how the addiction works. I’ll fuck you slow and deep until your eyes roll back and your brain turns off and you’re right there right at the edge and then I’ll stop. Pull out. Watch your hips try to follow me. Watch you pull against the ropes trying to get closer to the only thing in your world that makes the ache stop. You’ll beg. You’ll say things you’d never say if you had the use of your hands or any dignity left. And I’ll stroke your face and tell you you’re doing so well and slide back in just to feel your whole body shake with relief.

Every time I use you you’ll gets more desperate for it. Every time I pull out the absence gets louder. Eventually you’re not thinking about the ropes at all. You’re not thinking about being untied. You’re only thinking about my cock. When it’s in you you’re alive and warm and full and safe. When it’s not you’re empty and aching and counting the seconds. Two states of being. Full of me, or waiting to be.

Boarding School Teacher Makes Her Go And Get The Belt.