My Gift of Me
I love you. I hate the L word. I avoid it at all costs. People recycle it, over and over until the quality is diminished and it’s unrecognisable. I bet the person who invented the word to describe the indescribable, rues the very day that he or she shared that word with the rest of the world.
You have to go a very long time without love to really truly know what it is to love and be loved, and it’s not about words, it’s about actions.
To show you, with my actions, that what ‘we’ have is better than what ‘they’ have.. Whoever ‘they’ are! I’m giving myself to you. I’m trusting you with my very being, to do with as you wish. It’s the only gesture that I can think of to show you. It’s the only thing that feels right. All you have to do is love me back in equal measure by accepting my gift. My gift of me.
On Sundays I iron six shirts for you and hang them up. You work five days, but like to have a spare. You look up at me from the couch and the smile, the one that nobody else gets to see, throws itself at you and you throw one right back at me. It melts my heart each and every time I see it and my legs, they shake a little bit.
Monday morning arrives. You start work before me today and I approve of the fact that you insist on decent coffee as the smell of it wafts beneath my nose and you plant my favourite “purrfectly balanced” cat mug on the bedside table next to me. My eyes are still closed. I imagine that I look good, I probably don’t but you know how good I can look, so it doesn't matter to you today. I won’t know how bad I really look until you've left the house, and by the time you return. I’ll have done my best to look exactly as you would dream I looked, if you had the choice.
Sometimes if we have the time, you dress me up. You go through my wardrobe and pick out your favourite shoes, dress, and then you put my hair up, put red lipstick on me and stand me in front of the mirror. You rub baby oil on my stockings and manipulate my head using a fistful of my hair, and make me mouth the words “I’m yours” as you stand behind me and look at my reflection. I hate looking at myself, but I like very much that you like to, so for that reason, and because you own me, I enjoy every moment.
“You’re beautiful!” you tell me as you fix your eyes on mine. My eyes are your favourite thing about me. You think you can’t decide between my eyes and my smile, but you haven’t acknowledged yet, that the reason you like my smile so much, is because my eyes whole heartedly join in. They make it!
“On your knees!” you tell me and I don’t even hesitate. My ears are endlessly pricked for your commands. I live for them.
You look down at me. If you wanted me to look pathetic, you should have been more specific. I look brazen. I stare up at you with a defiant glint in my eye which dares you to command me more. Once upon a time, I promised you I was worth a chance, so every chance I get. I endeavour to show you that I wasn't wrong. I’m never wrong.
"Who do you belong to?" You ask, and I raise my eyebrows. You repeat the question in a sharper but still patient tone and I bite my lip ever so slightly, my head tilted forward, my eyes daring you, but as adoring as ever.
"You." I state, as if you needed to ask!
"Good girl, then stop looking at me so bloody defiantly and open your mouth!" You say with a wry smile and I feel a rush of juices expel from somewhere inside me, and in my head I hear the words "I love you!" unspoken, but more real than anything I've known before.
I open my mouth of course! I gasp in arousal at how I must look to you, how lucky you must feel to have a little fuck doll, so willing, so eager, yet with an edge that makes you sometimes want to slap her pretty little face until she cries.
All of a sudden you're overwhelmed with an urge to slap me. You've never slapped my face before, so I don't recognise the expression on your face as you raise your hand and slap my cheek. All at once I'm filled with a mixture of emotions.. At the forefront, the shock! It subsides quickly and I respond by slapping you right back. I never planned it, it was a reaction! You slap me again harder and again I slap you back, a new emotion creeping into the scenario now. You slap me again and I feel like a naughty puppy! The wounded look I wear arouses you like you've never known, and me too, when I imagine it. As quickly as I can, I make the decision to slap you again. You're quick this time, and my cheek sports a large red hand-print, yours a small one. If I had time to think about this, I'd probably laugh, or at the very least smile, at how we might look, in the midst of this frenzy, this slapping frenzy that neither of us knows how to conclude. The thrill of it, making us both lose our breathing composure. Our arousal and stubbornness owning us both.
Our mutual desire wins the battle in the end, and we cling to each other, our mouths unruly, they seek answers in each other where there are none. Our hands, needing to play their part in this, unite, squeeze. The nerve endings in our fingertips communicate, scream to one another, words only our hearts can comprehend, not our minds.
Our tongues try to break themselves in sacrifice, perhaps swap places, they don't know. Nobody does.
Your physical need could be insignificant, but it isn't. On your knees now, in front of my face, which no longer looks like mine, contorted by desire.
You don't need to command. My mouth opens willingly, no not willingly, desperately. How else can I show you?!
I close my eyes as I feel it pass my lips and widen my mouth to accommodate it.
"No! Open them!" You tell me, and so I do of course, I look at you as you push it further into my mouth, my hunger only too obvious as I suck and moan. The vibrations born from the moan in my throat, stimulating you, your own moan encouraging me, asking me for more.
More is my specialty, so I relax my throat and my hands reach around and grab your arse, pulling you into me, dragging you, no polite invitations here.
My throat opening right up like the gates to a prison that has held you captive forever.
If I could talk, if I could beg, I would say two things.
I love you. I hate the L word. I avoid it at all costs. People recycle it, over and over until the quality is diminished and it’s unrecognisable. I bet the person who invented the word to describe the indescribable, rues the very day that he or she shared that word with the rest of the world.
You have to go a very long time without love to really truly know what it is to love and be loved, and it’s not about words, it’s about actions.
To show you, with my actions, that what ‘we’ have is better than what ‘they’ have.. Whoever ‘they’ are! I’m giving myself to you. I’m trusting you with my very being, to do with as you wish. It’s the only gesture that I can think of to show you. It’s the only thing that feels right. All you have to do is love me back in equal measure by accepting my gift. My gift of me.
On Sundays I iron six shirts for you and hang them up. You work five days, but like to have a spare. You look up at me from the couch and the smile, the one that nobody else gets to see, throws itself at you and you throw one right back at me. It melts my heart each and every time I see it and my legs, they shake a little bit.
Monday morning arrives. You start work before me today and I approve of the fact that you insist on decent coffee as the smell of it wafts beneath my nose and you plant my favourite “purrfectly balanced” cat mug on the bedside table next to me. My eyes are still closed. I imagine that I look good, I probably don’t but you know how good I can look, so it doesn't matter to you today. I won’t know how bad I really look until you've left the house, and by the time you return. I’ll have done my best to look exactly as you would dream I looked, if you had the choice.
Sometimes if we have the time, you dress me up. You go through my wardrobe and pick out your favourite shoes, dress, and then you put my hair up, put red lipstick on me and stand me in front of the mirror. You rub baby oil on my stockings and manipulate my head using a fistful of my hair, and make me mouth the words “I’m yours” as you stand behind me and look at my reflection. I hate looking at myself, but I like very much that you like to, so for that reason, and because you own me, I enjoy every moment.
“You’re beautiful!” you tell me as you fix your eyes on mine. My eyes are your favourite thing about me. You think you can’t decide between my eyes and my smile, but you haven’t acknowledged yet, that the reason you like my smile so much, is because my eyes whole heartedly join in. They make it!
“On your knees!” you tell me and I don’t even hesitate. My ears are endlessly pricked for your commands. I live for them.
You look down at me. If you wanted me to look pathetic, you should have been more specific. I look brazen. I stare up at you with a defiant glint in my eye which dares you to command me more. Once upon a time, I promised you I was worth a chance, so every chance I get. I endeavour to show you that I wasn't wrong. I’m never wrong.
"Who do you belong to?" You ask, and I raise my eyebrows. You repeat the question in a sharper but still patient tone and I bite my lip ever so slightly, my head tilted forward, my eyes daring you, but as adoring as ever.
"You." I state, as if you needed to ask!
"Good girl, then stop looking at me so bloody defiantly and open your mouth!" You say with a wry smile and I feel a rush of juices expel from somewhere inside me, and in my head I hear the words "I love you!" unspoken, but more real than anything I've known before.
I open my mouth of course! I gasp in arousal at how I must look to you, how lucky you must feel to have a little fuck doll, so willing, so eager, yet with an edge that makes you sometimes want to slap her pretty little face until she cries.
All of a sudden you're overwhelmed with an urge to slap me. You've never slapped my face before, so I don't recognise the expression on your face as you raise your hand and slap my cheek. All at once I'm filled with a mixture of emotions.. At the forefront, the shock! It subsides quickly and I respond by slapping you right back. I never planned it, it was a reaction! You slap me again harder and again I slap you back, a new emotion creeping into the scenario now. You slap me again and I feel like a naughty puppy! The wounded look I wear arouses you like you've never known, and me too, when I imagine it. As quickly as I can, I make the decision to slap you again. You're quick this time, and my cheek sports a large red hand-print, yours a small one. If I had time to think about this, I'd probably laugh, or at the very least smile, at how we might look, in the midst of this frenzy, this slapping frenzy that neither of us knows how to conclude. The thrill of it, making us both lose our breathing composure. Our arousal and stubbornness owning us both.
Our mutual desire wins the battle in the end, and we cling to each other, our mouths unruly, they seek answers in each other where there are none. Our hands, needing to play their part in this, unite, squeeze. The nerve endings in our fingertips communicate, scream to one another, words only our hearts can comprehend, not our minds.
Our tongues try to break themselves in sacrifice, perhaps swap places, they don't know. Nobody does.
Your physical need could be insignificant, but it isn't. On your knees now, in front of my face, which no longer looks like mine, contorted by desire.
You don't need to command. My mouth opens willingly, no not willingly, desperately. How else can I show you?!
I close my eyes as I feel it pass my lips and widen my mouth to accommodate it.
"No! Open them!" You tell me, and so I do of course, I look at you as you push it further into my mouth, my hunger only too obvious as I suck and moan. The vibrations born from the moan in my throat, stimulating you, your own moan encouraging me, asking me for more.
More is my specialty, so I relax my throat and my hands reach around and grab your arse, pulling you into me, dragging you, no polite invitations here.
My throat opening right up like the gates to a prison that has held you captive forever.
If I could talk, if I could beg, I would say two things.
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1) Fucking give it to me!! And 2) I fucking love you!
Fortunately, my throat is in the know, and it tells you everything, so we establish an ecstatic rhythm, one that brings your favourite face of mine a fore me, and paralyses you spectacularly as you throw your head back and pump copious amounts of your warm and delicious seed, right into my throat. It barely touches the sides. I moan again, a long throaty one, because your release, your pleasure, is mine.
"Thank you." I whisper as our bodies move and rest upon one another. You whisper that you love me and I wish I would never fall asleep again, in case this should all turn out to be just a dream, the most wonderful dream I ever had.
Luckily for me, you have no intention of sleeping. You sit up and look at me. The look on your face, the wide awake face, it makes me smile, though I'm sure I won't be smiling soon.
"Sit on the chair!" you order me, nodding towards the "fisting" chair that sits atop the centre of the dining table.
You go upstairs, and shaky on my legs, I do as I'm told and clamber up onto the chair that sees everything!
The leather is cold on my bare arse as I sit down, and before you return I re-position myself a number of times, trying to appear as sexy as possible to you, on your return. Eventually I settle for my legs on both arm rests, my knickers in hand, held over my hairless playground, which if allowed a voice, would be trembling with trepidation, perhaps asking you for reassurance that you won't hurt me.
You tell me how good I am, as you return and in your hand, the bottle of baby oil that usually sleeps beside my bed in the drawer that keeps secrets.
"You've been a very good girl this evening, and I hope you're going to continue being a good girl and fucking take this!" You say, grabbing the knickers from my hand and forcing them into my mouth. Your hand is already lubed in preparation and you waste no time at all. Two fingers for starters, hard and mean, as if you might be paying me back for the slapping.
Quickly it's three and then "four" you say out loud as you stretch me and push as deeply as you can, pulling out and then thrusting back in again. Inducing a squelching noise that I'm not allowed to be embarrassed by and a whimper from behind the knickers I'm gagging on.
You look me in the eyes. Your gaze is a fierce one and I love it so. You hold it, your eyes , they tell me "don't you dare to look away!" as you introduce your thumb to my overwhelmed cunt and push hard, enjoying the hesitance on my face, if only it were permitted.
The hesitance of my cunt is futile. Your determination is like my love.
Your hand reaches it's widest point and if I could see it, I'd know that your cock is twitching as you push push fucking pushhhh!! You shsshh me, despite that it's only us,. As you conquer me, my head falls to the side in total abandonment as I accept my inevitable fate and embrace it. Your hand now existing inside me, touching every inch of me, stretching me, getting to know the parts of me I will never know myself.
"Good fucking girl! Now be exceptional and cum for me." you tell me, as if it's something I might be able to flick a switch for. I want to of course! I want to do everything you say, I want to be everything you need.
All at once, the desire to cum, the pressure, the overwhelming presence in me, and of course my insurmountable adoration for you, it all evokes the complete animal in me. I tear the knickers from my mouth, and over and over and over I tell you "please... Please please please please please please... Fist fuck me, my breath ragged, my eyes rolling, my voice, it sounds like someone else. Someone you know, but don't see very often, someone whom no matter how long since you've spoken, you can pick up where you left off, as if it were yesterday. Someone you won't forget.
You oblige of course! You give it to me so savagely that either I'm squirting or pissing all over you, spraying you where exit gaps will allow. Your frenzy encouraged by my closed eyes. You know I close my eyes right before I cum. I need to concentrate.
"If you love me, cum for me!" you tell me, and thankfully I'm close enough so I let go of it. "Fuckkkkkkkkk!!!" I begin.
The insides of me undulating on your soaked hand. The waves of the mind fucking sensations, sweeping over me. Throwing me this way and that.
"yes yes you love me brilliantly! And I love you for it" you tell me, your voice giving away your renewed need.
I feel close to fainting, I know you'd like that, but my ecstasy subsides and you slow to a standstill.
Your cock is dribbling, it knows where it's heading. I do too, but I wait for the command.
"Get on your knees for me!" You say as you clamber up on the table. I can't move quickly enough, despite how sore I am now that the pleasure of the violation has become a memory. On my knees upon the chair now, my peachy arse, wet from juices that have flooded this voyeuristic chair, so round, so white, so fuckable.
"Spread that tight little hole for me!" you order and my fingers are spreading it before "me" is out.
You waste no time, my obstinate arse, it loves you too, you see.. Every part of me does, it was the deal we made.
I wince as you push yourself forward, the resistance it hurts, but I remind myself of how incredible it must feel for you, and then you're in. I welcome it vocally.
"Fuck it! Fuck it, hurt it! Own it! I beg you, and you do. In one fierce thrust, you're as deep as my body will allow. You can feel me twitching on you. You pull right the way out, and ignore the traces of blood on you. In again, this time harder, a roar from you accompanies it. You grab my hips for purchase and give it to me now, just the way you know I need. My loving arse only content when it's full of your desire in liquid form.
Afterwards, as you help me down, my body weak from violation, I thank you again, there are no need for I love you's.
Fortunately, my throat is in the know, and it tells you everything, so we establish an ecstatic rhythm, one that brings your favourite face of mine a fore me, and paralyses you spectacularly as you throw your head back and pump copious amounts of your warm and delicious seed, right into my throat. It barely touches the sides. I moan again, a long throaty one, because your release, your pleasure, is mine.
"Thank you." I whisper as our bodies move and rest upon one another. You whisper that you love me and I wish I would never fall asleep again, in case this should all turn out to be just a dream, the most wonderful dream I ever had.
Luckily for me, you have no intention of sleeping. You sit up and look at me. The look on your face, the wide awake face, it makes me smile, though I'm sure I won't be smiling soon.
"Sit on the chair!" you order me, nodding towards the "fisting" chair that sits atop the centre of the dining table.
You go upstairs, and shaky on my legs, I do as I'm told and clamber up onto the chair that sees everything!
The leather is cold on my bare arse as I sit down, and before you return I re-position myself a number of times, trying to appear as sexy as possible to you, on your return. Eventually I settle for my legs on both arm rests, my knickers in hand, held over my hairless playground, which if allowed a voice, would be trembling with trepidation, perhaps asking you for reassurance that you won't hurt me.
You tell me how good I am, as you return and in your hand, the bottle of baby oil that usually sleeps beside my bed in the drawer that keeps secrets.
"You've been a very good girl this evening, and I hope you're going to continue being a good girl and fucking take this!" You say, grabbing the knickers from my hand and forcing them into my mouth. Your hand is already lubed in preparation and you waste no time at all. Two fingers for starters, hard and mean, as if you might be paying me back for the slapping.
Quickly it's three and then "four" you say out loud as you stretch me and push as deeply as you can, pulling out and then thrusting back in again. Inducing a squelching noise that I'm not allowed to be embarrassed by and a whimper from behind the knickers I'm gagging on.
You look me in the eyes. Your gaze is a fierce one and I love it so. You hold it, your eyes , they tell me "don't you dare to look away!" as you introduce your thumb to my overwhelmed cunt and push hard, enjoying the hesitance on my face, if only it were permitted.
The hesitance of my cunt is futile. Your determination is like my love.
Your hand reaches it's widest point and if I could see it, I'd know that your cock is twitching as you push push fucking pushhhh!! You shsshh me, despite that it's only us,. As you conquer me, my head falls to the side in total abandonment as I accept my inevitable fate and embrace it. Your hand now existing inside me, touching every inch of me, stretching me, getting to know the parts of me I will never know myself.
"Good fucking girl! Now be exceptional and cum for me." you tell me, as if it's something I might be able to flick a switch for. I want to of course! I want to do everything you say, I want to be everything you need.
All at once, the desire to cum, the pressure, the overwhelming presence in me, and of course my insurmountable adoration for you, it all evokes the complete animal in me. I tear the knickers from my mouth, and over and over and over I tell you "please... Please please please please please please... Fist fuck me, my breath ragged, my eyes rolling, my voice, it sounds like someone else. Someone you know, but don't see very often, someone whom no matter how long since you've spoken, you can pick up where you left off, as if it were yesterday. Someone you won't forget.
You oblige of course! You give it to me so savagely that either I'm squirting or pissing all over you, spraying you where exit gaps will allow. Your frenzy encouraged by my closed eyes. You know I close my eyes right before I cum. I need to concentrate.
"If you love me, cum for me!" you tell me, and thankfully I'm close enough so I let go of it. "Fuckkkkkkkkk!!!" I begin.
The insides of me undulating on your soaked hand. The waves of the mind fucking sensations, sweeping over me. Throwing me this way and that.
"yes yes you love me brilliantly! And I love you for it" you tell me, your voice giving away your renewed need.
I feel close to fainting, I know you'd like that, but my ecstasy subsides and you slow to a standstill.
Your cock is dribbling, it knows where it's heading. I do too, but I wait for the command.
"Get on your knees for me!" You say as you clamber up on the table. I can't move quickly enough, despite how sore I am now that the pleasure of the violation has become a memory. On my knees upon the chair now, my peachy arse, wet from juices that have flooded this voyeuristic chair, so round, so white, so fuckable.
"Spread that tight little hole for me!" you order and my fingers are spreading it before "me" is out.
You waste no time, my obstinate arse, it loves you too, you see.. Every part of me does, it was the deal we made.
I wince as you push yourself forward, the resistance it hurts, but I remind myself of how incredible it must feel for you, and then you're in. I welcome it vocally.
"Fuck it! Fuck it, hurt it! Own it! I beg you, and you do. In one fierce thrust, you're as deep as my body will allow. You can feel me twitching on you. You pull right the way out, and ignore the traces of blood on you. In again, this time harder, a roar from you accompanies it. You grab my hips for purchase and give it to me now, just the way you know I need. My loving arse only content when it's full of your desire in liquid form.
Afterwards, as you help me down, my body weak from violation, I thank you again, there are no need for I love you's.
