America's Sweetheart
I slide out of the cab; marcus wraps his arm around me as we enter the building.
I am so content. It had been an evening of good things.
Dinner at Komi. A bottle of Riesling and the most amazing quail I’ve ever eaten. Figs stuffed with mascarpone and cooked in butter. The two most beautiful people there. Mad for each other. Rushed for the theatre.
Kiki and Herb at the Woolly Mammoth and the most gay boys per square inch I’ve ever witnessed. We laughed so hard we cried.
Was marcus wearing leather pants? I don’t remember. I was miniskirted in purple corduroy. Terra cotta sweater. Argyle tights and knee boots. He’d dressed me, after our photo shoot. I’d fretted so much about what to wear; I’d brought so many things.
We walk into the apartment.
This is becoming routine.
Shoes come off at the door and I go into the bathroom, leaving my tights on the dressing room floor. He is in the kitchen making drinks.
Cape Codders in hand, marcus emerges. I am kneeling on the bed. He hands me my drink and I take a short sip. We kiss. marcus stands before me.
“Take off your clothes.”
“Just like that?!”
His expression is serious, and so I do as I am told. Off comes the sweater, over my head. I unclasp my bra and toss it aside. The skirt is unsnapped down the front with a well-executed yank, like a stripper’s costume.
I am naked, ripe for him. Smiling.
He hands me a glass. I drink, and pass it back.
He takes the lid off the bedside storage table. Pulls out a plastic bag.
My breathing quickens. I’ve seen this look before. He is intent. Intent on using me. On dominating me. On making me submit to him.
I see the blindfold. Small. Black. Leather. I bite my lip.
It is secured behind my head. I smile.
I lie back, spreading my arms and legs as instructed. marcus makes quick work of securing my wrists and ankles to the bed frame.
I hear him moving about the room, pulling things out of bags, taking a drink from his glass.
Suddenly, I am thirsty. I remember the last time I was tied up with him. I need to wet my mouth.
“Baby? May I please have a drink?”
“Oh, jesus. Don’t start that shit. What the fuck is that?”
“I’m thirsty; could I have some water?”
He lifts my lips to the bottle and then sets me back down.
I lie there, anticipating everything, catching tiny noises here and there. I sense he is crouched at the stereo to my right. I swallow in the blackness, adjusting my wrists in the restraints.
Breathing.
Waiting.
Back arching, hips squirming, anticipation building.
The stereo kicks on,
“HAI!!”
The flogger hits my hip. I buck, and then relax. He’s prepared a soundtrack: Courtney Love’s “America’s Sweetheart.”
I relish the feeling of the leather strips on my skin, gasping with every strike.
...didja miss me?
Didja miss me? Yeh yeh yeh….
My skin is on fire, warmth spreading across my thighs, my cunt.
He flogs me harder now, moving up to my tits. The stinging bite of leather as it whaps against my chest, my belly- fuck- my clit
I’m already wet, insane. My skin is burning, my ass clenches, my fists open and close. The throbbing of my cunt is almost too much to take.
My nipples stand at attention.
Oh god just give me one more song so I can prove to You that I’m so much better than them…
I just want him here, close to me so I can feel his heat, hear him breathing…
He is straddling me, slapping my face.
His feet are planted on either side of me, and I sense his cock is close.
I lift my head, searching for a taste. My lips reach the tip of his cock, but he is too far.
I raise my neck and shoulders, finding marcus’s head, taking it into my mouth. He pulls away, teasing me.
I want that cock in my mouth. Want to run my tongue and lips around its head, holding on. I want it to push inside. I want it to fuck my throat.
marcus pulls back and sits on my hips.
His hands go to my tits, grabbing and smashing them against each other, pinching my nipples so hard I feel the flush rising to my face.
I already miss the taste of his cock in my mouth.
The flogger stings the side of my face as he flicks it onto my cheekbones.
I am in heaven.
Love you baby girl you know, cos I can read your mind
The gag isn’t needed to keep me quiet; I do not yell or scream when I’m like this. Moans and hums resonate from my throat. I am deep inside myself, aware of the physical constraints on my body and trusting marcus to keep it safe while I’m away.
It is a meditative state. Without visual distractions I can go deep down, past the waves of pain crashing above, down where the water is calm. I am so good at this that, when I was in labor with Jack, my midwife suggested that I’d better start acting like I was in some kind of pain, or the floor nurses were liable to give my coveted Jacuzzi birthing suite to someone who was more clearly in active labor.
Sometimes ya gotta say shut up
I feel the crystal pink rubber ball behind my teeth and lift my head so marcus can tighten the strap. I know that this is a powerful visual.
I know that now. Then, I was glad to have the new sensation of the ball there for me to bite if I wanted. I was glad to be this available to marcus. I could give him anything. He could take it... take me. Wherever. However.
He starts slapping my tits, each stinging smack causing my conscience to bob upward, smacked head-on by the surf and then retreating quickly to my sunken utopia.
I feel marcus’s hand reach out beside me. I hear the slicking on of lube. I feel something pushing at my back door. It is my new buttplug. marcus puts it in and turns the dial to a very nice ‘low.’
“unnngggg….”
His mouth is on my clit as he slips two fingers into my cunt.
My knees are straining to bend, my pelvis pushing up to him, eyes rolled back behind the blindfold, jaws clenching the ball like a vice.
In the dead of winter, dead of night, he’s all that I can see, hold onto me…Ahhhh, hold onto me…
I’m cumming, and it’s like fire. Like a demon has possessed me and my toes are curling and my body is writhing and I shove myself up, begging for more, his fingers on my g-spot and my sins are washed away by the waves crashing through my soul.
I can’t hear anything; sound is cold, metal. I think I’m dying, I am so hot and wet and shuddering and alive and helpless against this thing.
Now you’re the center of the universe…
I’m the center of the universe.
I cum so hard I push the plug from my ass.
I wonder if the neighbors hear me. I hope they do. I hope they forever walk past this apartment and get little chills remembering the noises from this weekend.
...in the house where the red light’s always on alone
I will fuck you up
I will feel no guilt
marcus unbinds my ankles and my knees bend up together, shielding my cunt.
He covers his cock and moves up to my face, removing the gag.
My lips are tight and dry. He streams liquid from his mouth into mine. I suck on his tongue and kiss his lips. My knees are parted by his hands. He moves between my legs, pulling them up over his shoulders.
I am still blindfolded, arms outstretched, wrists bound.
He is finally fucking me, our hips rolling over each other, my back arching, aching to fold myself around him, straining against the cuffs.
I am smiling, craving kisses, swimming to shore as he thrusts deeply, my ankles crossed behind his neck. My breasts shudder as the ripples make their way blissfully through my core.
Hush, your highness
don’t you leave
Baby, hold me in your arms
I'm shivering
But what's all that for?
If I was the battle
Baby, you have won the war
When marcus releases my wrists and then removes the blindfold, kissing my eyelids, I am still. My thoughts are still swirling, my lips parted. My eyes are half-closed in the dim light of his apartment. He lies on his side next to me, cradling my head in his hands.
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I am so content. It had been an evening of good things.
Dinner at Komi. A bottle of Riesling and the most amazing quail I’ve ever eaten. Figs stuffed with mascarpone and cooked in butter. The two most beautiful people there. Mad for each other. Rushed for the theatre.
Kiki and Herb at the Woolly Mammoth and the most gay boys per square inch I’ve ever witnessed. We laughed so hard we cried.
Was marcus wearing leather pants? I don’t remember. I was miniskirted in purple corduroy. Terra cotta sweater. Argyle tights and knee boots. He’d dressed me, after our photo shoot. I’d fretted so much about what to wear; I’d brought so many things.
We walk into the apartment.
This is becoming routine.
Shoes come off at the door and I go into the bathroom, leaving my tights on the dressing room floor. He is in the kitchen making drinks.
Cape Codders in hand, marcus emerges. I am kneeling on the bed. He hands me my drink and I take a short sip. We kiss. marcus stands before me.
“Take off your clothes.”
“Just like that?!”
His expression is serious, and so I do as I am told. Off comes the sweater, over my head. I unclasp my bra and toss it aside. The skirt is unsnapped down the front with a well-executed yank, like a stripper’s costume.
I am naked, ripe for him. Smiling.
He hands me a glass. I drink, and pass it back.
He takes the lid off the bedside storage table. Pulls out a plastic bag.
My breathing quickens. I’ve seen this look before. He is intent. Intent on using me. On dominating me. On making me submit to him.
I see the blindfold. Small. Black. Leather. I bite my lip.
It is secured behind my head. I smile.
I lie back, spreading my arms and legs as instructed. marcus makes quick work of securing my wrists and ankles to the bed frame.
I hear him moving about the room, pulling things out of bags, taking a drink from his glass.
Suddenly, I am thirsty. I remember the last time I was tied up with him. I need to wet my mouth.
“Baby? May I please have a drink?”
“Oh, jesus. Don’t start that shit. What the fuck is that?”
“I’m thirsty; could I have some water?”
He lifts my lips to the bottle and then sets me back down.
I lie there, anticipating everything, catching tiny noises here and there. I sense he is crouched at the stereo to my right. I swallow in the blackness, adjusting my wrists in the restraints.
Breathing.
Waiting.
Back arching, hips squirming, anticipation building.
The stereo kicks on,
“HAI!!”
The flogger hits my hip. I buck, and then relax. He’s prepared a soundtrack: Courtney Love’s “America’s Sweetheart.”
I relish the feeling of the leather strips on my skin, gasping with every strike.
...didja miss me?
Didja miss me? Yeh yeh yeh….
My skin is on fire, warmth spreading across my thighs, my cunt.
He flogs me harder now, moving up to my tits. The stinging bite of leather as it whaps against my chest, my belly- fuck- my clit
I’m already wet, insane. My skin is burning, my ass clenches, my fists open and close. The throbbing of my cunt is almost too much to take.
My nipples stand at attention.
Oh god just give me one more song so I can prove to You that I’m so much better than them…
I just want him here, close to me so I can feel his heat, hear him breathing…
He is straddling me, slapping my face.
His feet are planted on either side of me, and I sense his cock is close.
I lift my head, searching for a taste. My lips reach the tip of his cock, but he is too far.
I raise my neck and shoulders, finding marcus’s head, taking it into my mouth. He pulls away, teasing me.
I want that cock in my mouth. Want to run my tongue and lips around its head, holding on. I want it to push inside. I want it to fuck my throat.
marcus pulls back and sits on my hips.
His hands go to my tits, grabbing and smashing them against each other, pinching my nipples so hard I feel the flush rising to my face.
I already miss the taste of his cock in my mouth.
The flogger stings the side of my face as he flicks it onto my cheekbones.
I am in heaven.
Love you baby girl you know, cos I can read your mind
The gag isn’t needed to keep me quiet; I do not yell or scream when I’m like this. Moans and hums resonate from my throat. I am deep inside myself, aware of the physical constraints on my body and trusting marcus to keep it safe while I’m away.
It is a meditative state. Without visual distractions I can go deep down, past the waves of pain crashing above, down where the water is calm. I am so good at this that, when I was in labor with Jack, my midwife suggested that I’d better start acting like I was in some kind of pain, or the floor nurses were liable to give my coveted Jacuzzi birthing suite to someone who was more clearly in active labor.
Sometimes ya gotta say shut up
I feel the crystal pink rubber ball behind my teeth and lift my head so marcus can tighten the strap. I know that this is a powerful visual.
I know that now. Then, I was glad to have the new sensation of the ball there for me to bite if I wanted. I was glad to be this available to marcus. I could give him anything. He could take it... take me. Wherever. However.
He starts slapping my tits, each stinging smack causing my conscience to bob upward, smacked head-on by the surf and then retreating quickly to my sunken utopia.
I feel marcus’s hand reach out beside me. I hear the slicking on of lube. I feel something pushing at my back door. It is my new buttplug. marcus puts it in and turns the dial to a very nice ‘low.’
“unnngggg….”
His mouth is on my clit as he slips two fingers into my cunt.
My knees are straining to bend, my pelvis pushing up to him, eyes rolled back behind the blindfold, jaws clenching the ball like a vice.
In the dead of winter, dead of night, he’s all that I can see, hold onto me…Ahhhh, hold onto me…
I’m cumming, and it’s like fire. Like a demon has possessed me and my toes are curling and my body is writhing and I shove myself up, begging for more, his fingers on my g-spot and my sins are washed away by the waves crashing through my soul.
I can’t hear anything; sound is cold, metal. I think I’m dying, I am so hot and wet and shuddering and alive and helpless against this thing.
Now you’re the center of the universe…
I’m the center of the universe.
I cum so hard I push the plug from my ass.
I wonder if the neighbors hear me. I hope they do. I hope they forever walk past this apartment and get little chills remembering the noises from this weekend.
...in the house where the red light’s always on alone
I will fuck you up
I will feel no guilt
marcus unbinds my ankles and my knees bend up together, shielding my cunt.
He covers his cock and moves up to my face, removing the gag.
My lips are tight and dry. He streams liquid from his mouth into mine. I suck on his tongue and kiss his lips. My knees are parted by his hands. He moves between my legs, pulling them up over his shoulders.
I am still blindfolded, arms outstretched, wrists bound.
He is finally fucking me, our hips rolling over each other, my back arching, aching to fold myself around him, straining against the cuffs.
I am smiling, craving kisses, swimming to shore as he thrusts deeply, my ankles crossed behind his neck. My breasts shudder as the ripples make their way blissfully through my core.
Hush, your highness
don’t you leave
Baby, hold me in your arms
I'm shivering
But what's all that for?
If I was the battle
Baby, you have won the war
When marcus releases my wrists and then removes the blindfold, kissing my eyelids, I am still. My thoughts are still swirling, my lips parted. My eyes are half-closed in the dim light of his apartment. He lies on his side next to me, cradling my head in his hands.
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3 Comments:
i cant even begin to describe how awesome that was, either.
i ran into courtney love last year. although i dont have an email address for her, we should forward this post on to her - i think she might be interested in it.
great writing there, darling. you got it on spot.
im such a fan of yours, marcus, and jefferson. thank you so much for inspiring me to write...and to do what you all have been doing.
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