Exhaustion burns in my bones, like cigarettes against skin, like candle wax. Snit, Snat, Snut. Slut. That’s what they call you, they call me, every little bitch that deigns to show leg. Punish me; fuck me, string me up and cut me. Bite me, kiss me, taste me. You know I want it, you know you want it, you know you want me to want it. To want you in every burning pore.
Exhaustion burns in my bones because you hang me, wrist to leather, wrist to steel, rope around neck and lashed…from cunt, breasts and heel.
The best feeling is the slow tingle as the flesh shivers from the curl of the whip and the smack of the paddle. That moment of hesitation as your muscles tense sniffing for momentum…sniffing for the hint of pain to resume. The best feeling is knowing as each strike lands, that you mean it.
In every burning muscle and in every single blow of pain and pleasure mingling across my arching back and my curling toes and my fist clenching full body moans. You mean it.
You touch me and I cry. The feeling of skin against me electrifies, pacifies. I stop shaking, I stop wriggling. I love every moment, every second, millisecond, nanosecond. You can count the frames as I concentrate. I can sense each little pit, every raised segment of your fingers. You could take a fingerprint with my arousal, pulsing, burning and yet you touch me and I cry. God. Please. Fuck me.
You tease and taunt. You scrape my back with your nails, you bite and lash at me. You tease and fucking taunt and oh god I just want to feel your skin against me because every time you touch me, every time you come close and splash my neck with your hot breath, your laboured desire, I want to cum and shudder and i want to do it all in your arms. You tease and taunt and I cry out as another wave of pleasure and pain mingle in my spine meeting your harsh delicate design. Exhaustion still burns in my bones.
And then you let me go, the marks on my wrists flash red, red for desire I like to think. I fall. Moments pass but I know the routine. I gather myself, cunt aching for what’s next. I stand by you. Arms stretched as they are up to the ceiling. You grab the shackles. Yes yes, I think to myself as I take the whip, your turn, I know.
Exhaustion burns in my bones and soon it will burn in yours.