I won’t stop…until there is nothing left between us…until your jeans are torn and lying in the corner, your thong ripped and stuffed in your mouth to silence your screams, your bra…missing and in multiple pieces and you bent over the table…ass cheeks swollen and red, with me deep inside you whispering into your ear…asking you questions that you can’t answer…pulling your hair when I don’t hear the muffled scream loud enough…scratching your back when I don’t feel you arch it forcefully.
You don’t have a choice. You give me what I want…eventually.
After all the fight is gone, all the resistance spent…all of the fire and attitude channeled into places that swell with the anticipation. You surrender to me and whatever I have in mind. You yearn for nothing but to pleasure me, you dream of only my touch…rough at first, to tame your spirit, then soft, to soothe your broken will.
You desire my body inside of yours, hard…wanting…searching and delivering. You anticipate every thrust and respond with your very being as if nothing else matters but pleasing your master because in the end…nothing else does.
The cycle repeats…