She Says My Voice Changes for Her

Dinner was wonderful.  Nice restaurant, great drinks, and the food was so good.  It was one of those casual “hits” where it all just comes together and makes it a relaxing, fun evening.  As we are walking out, you snuggle up under my arm, nuzzling in against me.

There is this weird, wonderful disconnect that I crave with you.  I can see in your eyes that the Domme side is running through you, but often, before we have play time, you have this tenderness about you, this intense tenderness that takes the world away.  This is one of those times and I slow down a bit walking to the car, just to extend the time.  Selfish, but really nice.

On our way home, you’re talking about friends, happenings, the week – just small talk.  You scoot over closer and put your hand on my cage just completely nonchalantly.  I look at you and grin and you don’t even look back to meet my gaze.  You just keep the conversation going.  You’re pretending it’s not happening, but within just a few seconds, that cage beneath your hands is fully-engaged and hiding what you do to me.

When we get home, you get out of the car and push me against my truck, pinning me.

Somehow, in the 15 or so seconds that it took for me to walk around to open your door, the switch flipped.  It’s gone from seeing it in your eyes, to taking over your air, your “aura” if you will.  It’s changed to ownership.

You get up in my face but don’t actually touch.  You just hold my gaze, unmoving.  You wait for it to get to an uncomfortable period of time… then you hold it more.  My reflexes want to break away, walk away, look away, laugh, ANYTHING to break the moment.  But you don’t flinch, don’t move.  Then you walk away.

When we get inside, you take my face in your hands and retake my gaze.  You know this drives me crazy and you’re seeing just how much you can do with it this evening.  You actually drive me, backwards, through the house to our room.  All without breaking my gaze, while holding my face, while controlling me with your eyes.

When we get to our room, you slowly lower me to the bed, pulling my shirt off as I go, then my pants and everything else.  You lay me back and talk for the first time in all of this –

“Spread eagle.  Your restraints are in your mind tonight.  I don’t want to ever have to move your hands or legs out of the way, and you will be responsible for being restrained without connections, no excuses, no exceptions, until I specifically tell you otherwise.  To help remind you, I’m collaring you and putting on your cuffs.  But it’s your responsibility to control yourself entirely as if you were physically restrained.”

You put my cuffs on and my collar last.

There’s something about the cuffs and collar.  It’s something about having them, the restriction of them, even not attached.  It flips the switch in me and changes so much.  Such a small thing, but I can feel it start flowing through me.

You straddle me and lean forward, kissing me very physically, pulling me into you, pushing into me.  I’m sinking into the energy you’re pouring over me – and yes, working very hard to keep from moving my arms and legs.  I’m worried that I won’t be able to maintain it; it’s not an easy thing.

As you kiss me, you pull my lip into your mouth, holding it between your teeth.  You pull back just a bit with it to see my eyes, and start increasing the pressure between your teeth.  The pleasure is turning to pain as you hold my gaze once again.  I can feel more and more of your teeth rigid against me, pinching, forcing their way into me.  I’m squirming, trying to move, but afraid to all the same.

Somehow you hold my gaze.  It’s like electricity between our eyes and it’s running this weird pattern up and down my spine.  It’s like passion on steroids, desire based in the pain.  Suddenly you ease up just a bit with your teeth and start sucking – I can feel and taste why.  I can taste my own blood in my mouth.  As you pull away, you have this look on your face – you passed “full Domme mode” a bit ago – this is different, it’s being driven by me, my response to you and your own desires.

Your mouth now has my blood on it – and you move to my neck, my ears.  As you get to my shoulders, you start with the nips and bites. It hurts, but with every pulse of a bite or mark, I get a jolt of energy.  I’m starting to sink into that energy now – and I’ve somehow managed to basically turn off my arms and legs, no longer worried that they’ll do something I’ll regret later.

The sensations are roaring through my body as you alternate between bites and hickeys and occasionally sit up and run your nails down my body – my chest, across my nipples, my stomach.

These sharp interludes with the violence of the bites are a weird combination that seems to push me a notch further, then settle, then push again.  It’s almost like you’re playing my body like some weird instrument.

You lean up and kiss me some more, drawing in my lip once again, pulling back bloody.  It’s like you’re drinking energy from me each time you do this.  Somewhere in the back of my mind it registers just how intense this all is getting.

As you continue adding to your marks, I feel myself changing.  It sounds odd, even in the moment, but it’s like my body has moved from fighting against the assault to seeking it out.  I hear myself talking to you, making noises, begging even.  But it’s just that.  I’m hearing myself do it.

You tell me when I get in this place, this place where I’m involuntarily reacting and in full submission, that my voice changes.  That you can hear it in me . You can see it in me.  I’ve passed that line fully now – it’s almost like I’m looking down on myself, taking in the scene and your playing me.  I hear my almost-whimpers now, I see me melting into your next mark location, willing you forward.

My body is full of this electricity  – my arms are actually tired from … not moving.  I can almost internally see the submissive sparks and passion running from me to you, and you using it, all of it, to drive forward.

My Steelheart has entered “tree” mode and is dripping.  I can feel every millimeter of the steel against me, pushing back, holding me at bay.

From somewhere, not sure where, you pull out the key and pull the tube from me.  It takes about 1.5 seconds to be at full attention, but you don’t touch me.  Instead you sink into my thighs, leaving your mark again.

Then you stop.  I wonder what’s happening and you are looking up at me, incredibly horny-hungry look in your eyes.  Again you hold my gaze and start stroking me, slowly, alternating between a really light touch and firm one.  It shoots to my brain and I lay my head back as my eyes seek the back of my head in the pleasure.

But as soon as I do, you stop.  I whimper and look back at you.   You start stroking again.  I’m almost crying from the amazing feeling and the pain that is starting to register.  It’s overwhelming and very hard to concentrate to keep my eyes on you.  My body takes over and my head lays back again and you immediately stop, choosing instead to add to your mark tally.

When we lock gazes again, I’m determined to keep myself together this time.  You tease me, taking me to the edge, then slowing, but not stopping – just enough to stave off the orgasm that I’m craving.  I’ve been good about keeping my eyes with you, but then you stop for a few seconds to allow a reset and start up, quickly stroking with a vengeance now.

There are times when I can see the orgasm approaching, a bit like a train, screaming down the tracks at me.  It’s like I can see it actually closing in on me.  This is one of those times.  Just as I tip over the edge, you stop stroking and I come … hard, but ruined.  My body is almost convulsing, looking for just that one more bit, just that one more… anything.  It’s just not there.

Then, just as I start to come back down, you start up again.  Again, quickly, racing, pushing, taking the orgasm from me.  It takes only a short time and I can feel it rushing up on me.  My body is screaming inside, begging for the full orgasm, doing everything it can to sneak it by, to pull it off.  My logical brain is laughing, saying that it’s not going to happen.  My horny-as-fuck brain is vowing to make it so.

My logical brain is right.  I topple over the edge, out of control just as you pull your hand away and ruin it again.  My body is almost angry with me now.  I can feel the spasms inside me trying to get full relief, but not succeeding.

And then you start again.  I hear myself again – it’s almost again like I’m back looking down on the scene.  I hear myself begging you to stop.  WHAT AM I THINKING?!   But there I am, begging.  It’s almost painful, like some sort of a forced orgasm now, and I can’t do anything to stop it.  My arms won’t move.  My legs won’t push you away.  I can’t.

As I get closer and closer and start to get to the point of no return, you slow and all but release your grip, keeping me just there, right on that very fine edge of coming, but not enough to.  You keep this up for a maddening period of time that feels like hours.  My body is in a cold sweat, willing the orgasm to happen, wanting to push it out almost.  But it’s not enough, and you know it.  I see a small grin on your face, in your eyes.

I feel you tighten without speeding up – and I feel myself rolling over this edge into this earth-shattering orgasm.  It’s like all of my insides suddenly want to exit through my cock as you’re doing this – almost painful, but so amazing and overwhelming.

As soon as I start to come back to earth, you lean up, kiss me and say “you forgot to ask if you could come.  We’ll have to address that,” and you burrow into my arms.