I watched his adept fingertips dance down the fret-board in minor chords as my blood dried on his knuckles. I was lost in his ominous melody when I heard him whisper my name and say, “Look at me. Look me in the eyes.”
He was insistent. I stared at him hollowly as his harmonies permeated through the room and enveloped us in the same way the weed had done just moments before.
He played in drop D and he didn’t blink when his eyes were set in mine. He was charming the dark, depraved snake right out of my soul and he knew it. “I am going to break you,” he said, our eyes never wavering.
“I dare you.” I snarled, fire dancing behind my eyes. Wicked was hardly the word for what had just passed between us and wicked would pale in comparison to what was about to unfold.
We met on Tinder of all places and spoke candidly of our needs. He asked me what I expected to discover and the conversation flowed as follows:
Minx: I like to learn something from every person I engage with. I prefer a deep connection that flourishes into something meaningful even if it isn’t life-long. You?
Primal: Knowing I really connected with them. Some might look into kink to detach, but I’m the opposite. Sex is great, but having a wonderful memory is just as important. It would be fun seeing you submit.
Minx: Speaking of submission, what is your preference?
Primal: I like genuine. If you were a brat, you would have been bratty by now. Instead, you have been inquisitive and logical. That is more fun.
Minx: I tend to feel out a sexual situation and follow his lead. I push a little and if he likes it, I push harder. Part of the fun is the learning and observing. The listening for the caught breath and low growl. And you’re right. I suck at bratty. I don’t have the emotional capacity for pretending I am insecure.
Primal: Text me.
In conversation I found that he was much like I am. We did not obsess over one another. Our conversations were often brief and to the point. The holidays kept us apart as he called another state home, but we kept in touch between November and January. Master and I were on rocky ground at that point so I made no plans with him, we simply talked about our needs. Ultimately, we wanted the same thing– a moment in time that was purely ours and nothing more. He would only be in town a few more weeks as he was acting as a bass playing in a musical that was playing locally.
Master was understanding of my needs and graciously granted me permission for a weekend of fun. I added the Primal to the docket. Two days before we were to meet, we exchanged more messages than we had in two months and one of his messages contained a truth I could relate to all too well:
Primal: I want the romance I can’t seem to afford, but want and need to throw myself into.
Romance. That is not my strong suit, but my aim is always to please and I knew then that I would find a way to give him the romance and carnal desire he needed. That is just what I do.
I pulled up to the theater and I could hardly contain myself. Excited was not the word for that moment. I had no idea what to expect from this stranger. Looking back, I did not once consider that perhaps going to a hotel in a town an hour away from home with a complete stranger was a bad idea– no one knew where I was going except Master and he could do nothing to save me. That very well may have been half the fun; plus, I never need saving.
I waited for him in the lobby as he instructed and mindlessly scrolled through my fetlife feed. My lip was already almost raw from chewing on it in waiting for him to get to me. He warned me he would be in leather and he was.
When you want to give someone romance, you have to feel it. You must be in that head space in order to be anything close to believable. He made it easy and I allowed time to slow as I watched him come toward me.
He walked in like Jonny “2 Bags” Wickersham, with metal in his ears and fire in his eyes. Our first embrace was brief, but I let the moment stand still in my soul. We laughed as our nerves eased on the way to my car and he ran his fingers through my hair when I sat down next to him. I looked at him and smiled awkwardly, because that’s what these sorts of men like: innocent prey.
He sat on the corner of the bed and pulled me to him, his cheek against my stomach. He kissed the fabric of my dress and looked up at me.
“Kneel.” he said, not taking his eyes off of me.
“Kiss me.” he commanded and kiss him I did. Slow, tender, full of emotion. As the kiss broke I grabbed his bottom lip with my teeth gently and tugged. His caught breath made mine do the same.
“May I give you a massage, please?” I asked quietly, pushing my glasses up the bridge of my nose. “Clothes, on. We have all night to remove them.”
“You’re adorable. You may,” he smiled, scooting back onto the bed and rolling onto his stomach.
His body was hard and tense. He was a strong man. I could feel every muscle in his back and shoulders. I dug my fingers and the heels of my hands in deeply. Every sigh and moan that escaped his lips only served to push me deeper into what I like to call my “slave space”. Sub space is typically induced by pain or passion. My slave space is induced my an inherent need for servitude. I’ll expand on that in another post.
My fingers dragged up and down his skin under his shirt and I watched the tide of goosebumps come in and out of the depths of his need onto his skin. 40 minutes passed and I did not move from straddling him and worshiping his body with my hands. He slowly rolled over and finally spoke again.
“Kiss me again,” he whispered, and I did, with the same passion and emotion as I had the first time.
“Follow me,” he said climbing off the bed and into the arm chair next to his side table. He stood and grabbed my hand, gently pulling me off of the bed. I sucked my lower lip behind my top teeth and looked at him through my glasses innocently, as if I had no idea what his intentions were.
I always know what their intentions are.
I could feel his breath against the skin of my face as I stood in front of him. I can say with confidence now that he was the first man I have been with who understood the power of eye contact. He used it to his full advantage. I like to imagine he knew exactly what he was doing. I like to imagine that every word he spoke served a purpose.
“May I?” I asked, fingering the buttons on his plaid shirt.
“You may,” his eyes burrowed into me, forcing mine downcast.
I delicately savored every button–the sound and sensation of plastic against fabric. The tension between us was delightfully palpable and I shed the remnants of my insecurities that come with being with someone new. He pulled the dress over my head and I smiled. We kissed again and I let my fingers gently fall down the ripples of his skin.
“Kneel,” he commanded again. His voice was not loud, but direct and in the perfect, masculine octave. He had captivated me long before that moment. He could have asked me to do a handstand and I would have.
I knelt and fumbled with his bulky belt buckle. We both giggled as we struggled with his belt and too-tight jeans. I slowly pulled his pants down to his knees taking him in with my eyes above the rim of my glasses. He stared be down as he sat in the armless armchair next to the bed. I untied both of his black Chuck Taylor high tops and returned my sight to as I slowly removed his shoes. He watched me, his back against the chair and his eyelids fluttered as I peeled on his socks methodically.
First the left.
I brought the arch of his foot to my lips and let them linger against his skin softly for a moment. I closed my eyes and kissed him delicately and a low groan passed through his lips followed by my two favorite words, “Good girl.”
Next, the right.
I set his bare foot on my chest and rested his heel between my breasts. This time, I kept my eyes open and we watched each other as I gingerly kissed the pad of every toe. The skin on his chest and stomach danced as I worship his feet with my mouth.
After slipping his pants the rest of the way off, my lips moved from the arch of his right foot to his ankle, his calf, the inside of his knee. Every touch elicited a sound from him driving me deeper into my worship. When I finally reached his inner thigh, I kissed the smith crevice of his groin and felt his body tremble beneath my lips. I looked up at him and smirked. His response was the same.
Without hesitation I ran my hands up the inside of his thighs and stomach, raising myself so my breasts were pressed firmly against the stiffening lycra of his boxer briefs. When I reached his chest, I stopped and bit my lower lip and our gaze turned into an intense stare as I slowly began to dig my nails into the tends flesh beneath his collar bone. His eyes rolled back and I slowly dragged down his chest, never removing my eyes from him. He cried out in obvious pain, but rather than ask me to stop, he growled and glowered at me. His hand shot forward and he grabbed a fistful of my hair, tilting my head back and chin up—I did not stop. I continued to drag my nails down his stomach and he growled intensely, tightening the grip on my hair. I did not stop when I reached the waist on his boxers. I dragged down to his thighs and the flesh beneath my nails buckled under the pressure.
When I reached his knees, his other hand wrapped around my throat and he stared down at me. His chest was heaving in time with mine. He sat up and tightened his grip on both my hair and throat until I couldn’t breathe. It was at that moment that he kissed me with ferocity. I whimpered into his mouth which only made him tighten his grip.
I began to tremble, overwhelmed by the sensation of breathlessness, his kiss, the pain from my scalp. He began to pull away from the kiss and grabbed my bottom lips between his teeth. I opened my eyes and defiantly stared back into his. He echoed my defiance with a sharp bite to my lip and another growl. He pulled his face back from mine, my lip still between his teeth and all at once I was in that space. There was no pain, there was nothing, but his eyes burning into mine.
I felt the rush of blood flow back into my lip as it was finally ripped from his teeth. I shudder and he snickered, returning his body to the back of the chair. I looked at him again and ran my fingers along the waistband of his boxers as I tried to catch my breath.
“May I?” I asked and again he gave me permission.
I slowly peeled off his boxers, releasing his erection and yet another part of his immaculate body for me to worship.
“Not yet.” He said, and I obeyed.
I ran my hands up his thighs again, kissing every burning red scratch down his body until I reach his nipples. I gave each a subtle lick to moisten, then sucked in cold air around the sensitive skin, he shuddered beneath me and I nibbled on his nipples while my fingertips explored his sides. My hands never left his body.
He ran his fingers through my hair and gripped tightly with both hands, pulling me away from him as he stood. I looked up at him through my glasses and waited for his instruction.
“You may,” he said, deeply.
I did not waste any time in finding his perineum with my eager lips, kissing and drawing my tongue in circles there. His pleasure was evident in the guttural moan that let out. From there I worshiped up to his balls, taking each one gently in my mouth before moving to the base of his shaft. I looked up at him again, he was staring down at me, his eyes glossed over in what I can only describe as uniquely his. It is a look of enraptured violence and pleasure.
I maintained that eye contact as I dragged my widened tongue flatly up his shaft and to his frenulum where my tongue danced to the rhythm of his shudders.
He was vocal in his responses to my mouth around him, coaxing his erection to harden further. Without warning he grabbed the sides of my face and shoved his cock past my uvula and commanded, “Look at me, Minx.”
I looked up at him desperate for breath as he forced himself down my throat. I cliché tear ran down my cheek, but my eye contact never wavered and I felt him pulse with pleasure at the sight of my eager helplessness. I gagged as he pulled out and forced himself back into my throat, over and over again. He did not stop until I was coughing, choking and gagging up sputum with snot running down my nose. He pulled out, both of our chests heaving and out of breath. He looked down at the wreck I was and spoke between breaths, “You are beautiful, Minx. You are amazing with your mouth.”
He bent down and kissed my forehead gently then wiped his hand over my entire face, smearing the vicus remnants of worship all of my face. He grabbed my cheeks with one hand, puckering my lips. He lifted me up off my knees by my face and kissed me deeply, despite the mess. When our kiss broke, he looked at me and his eyes glossed over again at the sound of my whimper. He spat in my face and threw me onto the bed. He hungrily pulled down my panties and slipped on a condom.
The stranger crawled on top of me, draping my legs over his shoulders. He wrapped one hand around my throat and growled, “Look at me.”
He crashed into me like an avalanche. My whole body was consumed by the sensation of his body colliding with mine in glorious union. He did not hesitate, he was not slow, he was not gentle. He crashed into me over and over until my eyes rolled back, breaking eye contact. He sank his teeth into my neck. I cried out in pain and I felt him stiffen inside me as his pace quickened. I pulled away from him and his teeth found my jaw where he bit down again. It was complete euphoria. The sensational pleasure of him inside of me mixed with the erotic pain of his teeth sinking in to my delicate skin overtook me and I was thrust into my masochist space.
I pulled away from his teeth and found his wicked eyes again.
“There she is,” he grinned maliciously.
I had never let go with anyone, but with him it was so easy. There was a connection between us I cannot explain. There are no words for the implicit trust I had in him.
He did not stop. He took his hands and put his fingers in my mouth, pulling at my jaw and using it as leverage to thrust harder and faster into me. He released and slowed, kissing me with fervor. He did not pull out of me, but slid us both to the edge of the bed where he stood.
“Wrap your fingers behind my head, Minx and hold on.” He commanded. I did not question him.
With my legs still draped around his shoulders and my fingers clasped behind his head, he picked me up and fucked me while he stood. I had never felt that before, and he stood there for eternity plowing into me.
He laid me back down on the bed when he had his fill and took me in that position while he stood. His hand again wrapped around my throat and when I looked into the stranger’s eyes he spoke in an almost inhumane tone, “there she is,” he snarled.
I choked at the grip of his hand crushing my esophagus. I pleaded with my eyes as I felt the capillaries in my face begin to expand. His face was curled up in the same way a dog’s face curls up when he is growling and getting ready to bite.
“I am going to cum, Minx.” He strained as whatever demon possessed him wholly took him over.
He kissed me again with passion, but I could not breath. Then, he sank his teeth into my chest as he pulled out of my cunt and buried himself into my ass as Master had instructed. He found release there. He cried out for me and for once in my life, I felt it. I felt the uncontrollable pulsing sensation of his climax as I tightened myself around him. He released his grip and collapsed onto my body
We both just stayed there, unable to move anything but my hand running through his hair. He grabbed the princess plug from the nightstand and lubricated it with his mouth. He pulled me close to him and put his forehead on mine as he gently slid the bulbous plug into my ass as Master had required. I gasped and whimpered as he filled me again, collapsing onto the bed when he had finished.
“Thank you,” he whispered in my ear as he gathered me into his arms.
I said nothing and just kissed whatever skin of his I could find.
We found each other in that moment. Our energies and souls had collided in a way that neither of us had ever felt and would likely not feel again for some time. We decided in that moment to embrace the irrationality of it all and simply exist together in our own universe while we had one another in our arms.
He kissed my forehead again, “Let me play for you,” he said.
“I would let you do anything,” I responses quietly, still trembling.
“I know, baby.” He got up and asked me to sit at his feet on a pillow while he packed a bowl and we shared a bottle of water.
He gave me a few shotguns of his inhalations and we drifted into infinity together. The soundtrack to our moment was the plucking of his fingers dancing on strings.