Yesterday we grabbed at a time which shouldn't really have been ours. I was supposed to be working. He was supposed to be at the gym. And then suddenly we realized that there were no other calls on our time, no meetings, no kids to drive, we had a couple of hours to spend rediscovering each other.
We started slowly.
You'd think we'd grab at each other, ripping clothes off to squeeze out the most nakedness, the most sex, the most everything. And often you'd be right. This time we talked first. Not angst ridden conversation about how little time we had or what was wrong or anything like that. Just some of the stuff of our lives, of our days.
And then he started. "Stand up, I want to see you."
I stood in front of him in a little camisole and flippy skirt. And my cast of course. Thinking, oh I hope he doesn't stand me here so long that this hurts my foot. Everything seems to be about my stupid foot these days.
He wanted to see my tits, and had me pull my breasts out of the top of my camisole. Beautiful he said. The connection so fast between us.
He stroked them, pinched them. Told me he was going to hurt them, hurt me.
"You know I'm going to hurt you," making me breathless with anticipation. Not desire for it, not then, but anticipation, knowing that he would hurt me, knowing that I'd want it. Needing the connection with everything in me.
He touched, stroked, pinched.
Eventually he made me beg him for the clamps, beg him to hurt me. How much power is in that for him?
Why beg? Because I wanted it by then. At least I wanted the sex and sensed that he wouldn't give me that until he'd given me hurt.
And I knew he wanted to hurt me. Wanted the visual of it, wanted the sex of it, wanted the power of it. And the power of me begging.
And the connection.
He agreed. And put the cloverclamps on me. Slowly. Leaving me time after each to adjust.
They hurt. Adjusting to them is hard.
But he waits. Tells me to find my groove.
He starts touching my pussy, having me touch with this little tiny practically not there finger vibe. While I can see the hitachi sitting on the bed, unused. I start to sex, but it's slow, and then builds.
I do find my groove. I'm turned on, closer and closer to orgasm. I want it, crave it, wonder if I can get there at all with this vibe, with this touch. In a way it doesn't matter, it's all good, wonderful.
He wants to own me. And I want it too. I want him to control everything I do. I want to belong to him. I want to give as much as he wants to take. It's intensely sexual, power-based, wonderful. It's dark I suppose, but it's more than that. It's dark but there's such love for each other underneath it, surrounding it.
I'm totally in the groove of it, taking his pain because ... he wants it and I want it and I can feel the power and connection between us.
And then, and then he takes the clamps off, and I don't even know how I feel about that then. I want them and I don't. I want them off and I want to wear them forever. I want what he wants. I want to please him. And he takes them off, but they still hurt of course.
And eventually he puts one finger inside me, and I realize that maybe I can cum this way, with the pain and the stimulation and the one finger fucking me. But I still have to work at it. Til finally I slip over the edge into a wonderful connecting orgasm.