Every Last Thought

He catches her dozing, the book upside down against her tits. Smut again. In that moment, he wanted to punish her – for all the dirty thoughts she had been thinking and keeping to herself.

He crept into the bedroom and began to undress. Freeing his thick, hard cock from his pants felt like heaven. He wanted to play but he kept focused on the mission forming in his mind.

Just as she began to stir, he threw himself on her, tossing the book aside carefully so as not to damage it. He filled her to the brim with his cock and held himself there, looking into her eyes.

“Here’s what we are going to do.” He said as she whimpered underneath him, her eyes bleary with sleep. “I’m going to edge you until you tell me every. Last. Thought. That’s been in your mind as you’ve been reading your smut. Nod if you understand.”

She nodded, licking her lips wet between another adorable fucking whimper.

By the time He was done with her, she was a mess of a person – anguished sobs wracked her body as she felt it all – relief, denial, at the shame of confessing every filthy thought and perverse fantasy. He held her though, arms safe and secure despite endlessly fucking and teasing himself and herself to the brink.

Sleep came for them then.

Read To Me

Out in this clearing beyond the trees, out in this hidden place of theirs, she stands straight as she’s been taught, she prepares herself to read aloud using her big, projected voice as she’s been taught.

The book in her hand, the book in question is a classic – Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll. Fitting, for this hidden place. It’s a rabbit hole in a whole different way.

Every Saturday they come here to read a chapter or two. She dresses for him – a comfortable dress, slinky panties. His choice. Then, once they arrive in the clearing, once he pulls out a chair from their small cottage in the woods – the tiniest structure with no power or plumbing, just a place to be with nature. A home away from their home. Once he pulls out this chair and sits down in it, sometimes crossing his legs, sometimes not, always burning a hole through her chest with those searing dark eyes of his – once he sits, he would always say those few words. Read to me.

The first time they tried this, she had asked him, “Why get dressed if I’m only getting undressed?”. She sat and listened when he explained to her why. That he wanted to see her in a ritual just for them, to shed her clothes and bare herself just for him. She had noted the glazed look in his eye as he spoke of being bare just for him. She kept that look with her through the winters, through the fifteen minute hike to the clearing. She kept it in the back of her mind when she read.

At first she was nervous to read. She never liked the sound of her own voice and though she was enjoying Alice and her odyssey into wonderland, the language and the rhythm of the language wasn’t always that easy to wrap her tongue around. When she’d mistake a word or made an error though, he did not chastise her, not once. He always watched her, that look in his eye, a smile spreading out across his face. He’d comfort her and tell her how well she’s doing, that it was okay.

When she was done, he’d rise from his chair, keep his gaze upon her as he slowly undressed down to nothing. She’d note his erection and find herself salivating as he led her to the comfortable, reliable double bed in that little shack where he’d take her.

Sometimes he took her where she stood, sometimes he’d take her roughly. One time he took her by the ass. She had only let him take her anally. It felt horrible to admit but deep down, she never trusted the ones that came before with that level of intimacy.

Now she feels his eyes on her as she stands there, holding the book in her hands, her heart kicking into overdrive as she feels the gentle breeze around him brush across her breasts.

He crosses his legs, loosens his tie – all the while holding her gaze.

“Read to me.” He says.

My Email Is Still Active!

I just wanted to put out this little note-blog thing to say that my email address for the blog – darkanddominant@hotmail.com – is certainly active and I do still check it frequently throughout the week.

I’ve had a lovely stranger write in and ponder if my email was active and whether their words would reach me. On the off chance that there are others out there – newcomers, new readers, people working up courage, I don’t know – please know that whatever you pour into an email doesn’t go unread or unheard or off into the yonder. I read and respond to every email. So please don’t be dissuaded by that.

I don’t know if that quells anyone’s minds or whether I’m writing to no one but I thought I should put it out there just in case!

Have a lovely weekend!

TD&D

I’m Gathering Questions for a later Q/A so Ask Me Anything!

Hullo ladies and gentlemen!

We’re at the end of February, seasons will be shifting soon and moods will be changing. I thought that now would be a good time to put it out there that I’d love to do another Q/A with my readers – new or regular.

Anything goes, really. There’s no boundaries to anything you want to ask. It can be about your own journey, it can be about me or something I’ve written, it could be about something you want me to write about, it could be questions about dating or D/s or — anything. For me, as long as you’re comfortable, the sky is the limit!

Please feel free to ask via commenting below or you are always welcome, submissive male or female, dominant female or male, slave, pet, newbie – whoever! – to write to me personally. You can reach me at my Twitter or at my email – darkanddominant@hotmail.com

I’ll be hoarding questions and answering them sometime in this last week of Feb so don’t worry about having too many. The only silly question is the one not asked!

Have a beautiful weekend!

The Fever

Last week I was in the eye of the storm with a virus I had. After, when I recovered, I found half of this story scribbled in my phone notes. I don’t know where it came from, this idea, but I decided to finish it when I felt better. Can you tell where feverish me stopped writing and recovering me picked up the story?

Chestnut coloured hair down around her face, she clawed helplessly at the deep blue satin sheets of the bed, like a dog trying to run on tiled floor. Strands of her hair were clawing at her eyes, making them sting, but this didn’t deter her. She wanted to find her footing.

Only her feet were being held up, His hands clasping her tight as he dragged her back into him. Her body, her completely nude body, slid backwards along the bed. She just couldn’t find a grip, something to hold on to.

Her tits dragged along the silky smooth fabric, nipples growing stiff as they trailed backwards. She felt betrayed by her body, by the slight sense of giddiness swirling in the pit of her stomach.

“C’mere!” He seethed at her from behind. As she felt the cool air kiss her bare bottom, she imagined his clenched jaw as he spat the words out at her. Maybe spittle dotted his lips, maybe that same spittle sprayed out across her ass cheeks, sizzling on her searing hot flesh. At least it did in this corner of her mind.

Her arms suddenly felt like dead weights. She could feel the ache gnaw at them, radiating pain in her shoulder and down along her arm.

Fuck this bed, fuck this moment. Fuck his strength.

She had her legs though, she could kick him, maybe even in the face, split his pretty lip, bruise his darkened eyes.

His darkened eyes…yes, his eyes would seem darker now. They had that effect, his dark brown eyes. They seemed to turn black when He was angered.

Fuck his dark eyes.

She flailed her legs around, trying to break free of his iron grip. It was useless.

How did he do this? How did he tear her dress apart? Why did she let herself feel so useless standing there in her boring black bra and her Wonder Woman underwear? She should’ve kicked him then, she had the training. Brown Belt in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, motherfucker.

So what happened? Why had she froze?

More importantly, why had she let him tear her dress apart? She could’ve torn him apart instead.

Get away from me, she wanted to scream, but her chest felt heavy, the words barely formed on her tongue. The harder she tried to mentally pry the words from her tongue and through her wet lips, the more lightheaded she began to feel.

That’s when she felt it, the toughness of his stubble prickling against the inside of her thigh. He was kissing her, she could feel. Planting rough, messy kiss on her bare, exposed thigh, one after another.

Her stomach began to twist and knot the closer he got to her slit.

Fuck you, she spat telepathically to the body that betrayed her. Fuck you fuck you fuck you.

I can curse you all…all...

She could feel His coarse mouth over her pussy, his tongue gliding along her cream-coated slit, itself prickly. A couple day’s growth. Short hairs. She could feel her cheeks burn for some reason. She normally shaved, she just didn’t get around to it.

She slammed her fist on the edge of the bed in frustration. She felt like a child, like a fool child, but it was all that came out of her in that moment – that, and a Harumph!

From behind her, she could hear him laugh. It was mirthless, as if he was thinking something she couldn’t decipher. She pictured him from between her legs, lips spread in that laugh, her own juices running down his chin.

Like a child, she thought. Like a greedy fucking child that’s bitten into a plump piece of fruit.

“Yeah, fuck you.”

Her heart leapt in her chest as she realised that, this time, she had spoken her thought out loud.

Or had the words finally dislodged from her throat? Had the pebble been knocked loose, letting the river flow normally?

All of a sudden she could feel the warmth of his cheeks leave her thighs. He was moving behind her, she could tell, because the bed shifted underneath her, swaying back and forth, like she was on a ship – a hogtied lass left out on deck for the pirate crew.

Wait, where the fuck had that thought come from?

She felt him tug her backwards, shifting her legs lower a little as he no doubt pulled her closer.

Now my’s chance. Now I can..

She wriggled her foot free of his grasp.

Yes!!

Feeling it sway in the air, she jabbed it backwards blindly, trying to knock him off.

It crashed into contact with something, causing him to roar in surprise.

“Oh you bitch! You fucking bitch!”

Gotta use this moment to break free…

She swung around so that she was on her back now, her other leg finally free.

He was ready for her, his hands – like vipers – coiling around her right leg.

“Come. Here.”

Her heart was working overdrive in her chest, thumping in her ears.

Behind this, lingered a stranger feeling. Excitement? Exhilaration? What was this?

Like a viper herself, she lashed out her free leg, hoping to smack him right between those pecks of his, but he caught it.

He had her again.

Panic kicked in, swirling in her veins. All of her training and he fucking had her. How had this happened?

How had this –

Heat. Searing, intense heat.

Burning her cheeks, flooding her head, her mind. Her skin prickled with heat, zigg-zagging down her chest and arms quickly, leaving goosebumps in her wake.

A wheeze came out of her parted wet lips, a string of saliva stretching from upper lip to bottom lip as the guttural noise came clawing its way up her throat.

He was inside of her, he had plunged deep inside of her pussy – parting her Judas lips and filling her to the brim. Or what felt like to the brim.

Fucking Christ, when was the last time she was filled like this? No, when was the last time she had felt FULL like this. This sickening, giddy fucking full feeling. The one she could feel but never explain, not to her mind or to her journal. She just felt…full!

And still with her fucking legs in the air, the rest of her on the bed, to the victor goes the spoils.

She could feel the ache in her legs, that tense horrible ache as he clutched her still but her mind was being assaulted just like her cunt. Before she could catch her breath, he was tearing out of her, her lips letting go of his cock, before he slammed straight back into her again.

I could clutch the side of the bed.

I could pinch my nipples.

I could kick him in the dick when he pulls out.

I really want to reach down and claw at my clit.

Fuck! No! I need to think, I need to plan.

I want to come!

Stop it!

She felt his hands grip her sides, stretch her legs apart. She felt like she was going to snap like a twig and he was just using her like a toy, like a fucking whore.

She couldn’t even grind back into him!

No. She couldn’t even loosen his grip of her legs just a little bit so she could take her shot at him again, maybe wind him like he had winded her.

“Keep. Your. Legs. Still.” He hissed at her.

She liked to think of him struggling to hold her constantly squirming legs as he wrangled them still. How was his face? Was it even darker before, if such a thing were possible? Her hair was in her eyes and her arms were like lead so she couldn’t wipe her vision free. She could feel the tangle of her hair, at the corner of her mouth, itching at her lips, but she just couldn’t move.

Tender. Her pussy was already growing tender at his constant barrage, his total destruction of her body. She couldn’t even remember the last time she had destroyed her pussy like this, fast and hard and urgent, like each thrust was necessary for survival.

With a hiss from him, her body shuddered as she felt his cock plunge deep into her, sending pinpricks of electricity down her sweat-slicked body.

“Uuunnghhhh.” He grunted with one final thrust, leaving his cock buried within her as he moved up across her body, between her parted legs, which fell down around his back in submission. Her own body, giving in and giving up.

She felt it then. The soft planted kiss on her stomach. Then another, above. Wet kisses. Sloppy kisses. Hurried, passionate kisses but still somehow appealing, arousing, stimulating.

She felt the wet kisses grow closer to her tits, her nipples achingly hard in anticipation, longing for his mouth on them but at the same time, cursing him, wishing him away into some pit of eternal darkness where he can’t keep his hold on her. He needed – no, SHE needs – to break this link, this connectivity between them because the moment his lips slip over her nipple, the moment his tongue swirls against her eager flesh, she knows, somehow and someway, she would not only lose herself but all semblance of self.

The restraint she had been clinging to, the one that lashed out at him, would be shattered and she would give in, utterly, to that pleasure.

And would that be such a bad thing? A voice spoke up in the back of her mind, smooth like velvet.

Would that be so bad, to fall into delicious decadence?

She found herself trembling, body breaking out into sweats, as she felt his kisses grow nearer to her breasts.

The voice in the back of her mind seemed nearer as well, louder.

Is this version of you such a terrible thing? How do you know? Why don’t you try it?

Silky voice, dangerous voice. Stay away. Stay away from me.

“No.” She spoke softly, barely a whisper.

His lips brushed the curve of her left breast. Her body quivered underneath his touch, heart racing on overdrive.

“No!” She repeated, louder this time. “Don’t.”

She could feel her body sinking into the bed, as if she would slip into the sheet itself and into a realm of deep blue nothingness. She could feel her mind splintering, cracks set to ripple across the very fabric that makes her exist.

“Don’t.”

His tongue hit her nipple, suckling it into her mouth, and she fell through the cracks of her world.

She could feel it. She could feel the nipple slip into his mouth, raw flesh grating ‘neath his teeth.

Some semblance of her, some fragment, wanted to be bitten, to be rendered useless by such a bite, but her mind was focused wholly on Him, on his mouth on her, on his cock that fit everything so snuggly deep within her.

She belonged to him, utterly, deep in that moment.

There Are No Words

At 4am this morning, I woke from a dream so incredibly detailed, with its own mythology and the like, that I scrambled for my phone and jotted down 1,372 tired words. I’ve read over it just now, having woken later in the morning, and have left it unedited and untouched, save for some spelling mistakes and sentences that didn’t make sense. What you will read is something I’ve written while not entirely awake, my hand pulled along by forces beyond this world.

I know some of you enjoy looking into the mind of the process or the writer or even ME, so I hope this intrigues you at the very least.

I can remember her taking my face in her hands, and looking at me with those deep blue eyes. My god, how deep and blue and expansive they are. How kind and thoughtful they are. Oceans. They are the sea.

I see her eyes flicker but before I can contemplate what that means, she’s leaning in to kiss me deeply.

Christ, her lips are so soft. They seem to sink right into my own lips. As if merging together.

I can feel my heart leap in my chest.

As she holds the kiss, as I hold the kiss, I suddenly see everything. I see her ass, lily white and gorgeous, I see her free of the shackles of her past life. I see her freedom. And it makes my heart pound in my chest.

When she pulls away, I feel like I know her more through that kiss. As if, through the act, a bond was created – and we fused.

She has to wipe the dark curl of hair from her eyes. Or I do.

I want to but I can’t look away from those deep, mesmerising eyes. I feel like I know her more now, know her better.

She kisses me again suddenly, deeper, harder. My stomach flips in excitement – or is that her excitement I feel, now that we are bonded. Now that my emotion is shared through the bond and hers is shared in my mind.

A sense of understanding. That’s what it is.

I can feel her soft hands on my face, cradling me, as if she wanted this for a while.

I want to tell her to be free, like I know she wants to be. There’s a side to her that I can sense. I want to scream it at her beautiful blue eyes, even as I wipe her dark curls out of her face.

Do what you want, what you must, for the freedom of your soul, for your health, but I know the truth. She senses it too now, my weirdness. My indulgence. I’m encroaching on something.

The other women around me don’t seem to mind our shared kiss. They wait patiently in silence, or do they observe? And if they observe, what do they see? Did I get it all wrong, terribly wrong? But that can’t be! She kissed me. I sense her. I sense her so strongly.

One by one hand, their hands lower me down to the cool metal table. How many women are there? Well, there’s the vampire – I know that. Blonde hair, ice blue eyes. There’s the girl in the hoody with the kind eyes. There’s the fiery redhead in the singlet with the rosy cheeks.

Somehow I know they’re actually all vampires. Except me and her. She who regards me with her deep blue eyes as big as the moon.

Does he know how lucky he is to have her?Where is he anyway?

As if on cue, he wanders into the small room, eyes ablaze. There’s fury.

In a heartbeat, before he can see, she tears her hands away from mine – somewhere along my counting of how many women there are around me, she took my hands in hers.

I didn’t even finish counting anyway. There’s more than three. They’re all gathered around me in a circle, her included.

I can feel her through the bond, I can tell she wants to undress and be naked. I can tell that’s how she likes to be. It comes in a flash in my mind, and I can see her walking along her natural habitat – a forest – completely nude, grass crunching beneath her feet.

“For a little extra you can become a vampire.” A woman at the end of the table says. She’s looking at me with tired eyes that seem to sag in their sockets. She’s dressed all in black, even with a black robe. The tattooist.

I shake my head. “No, thank you, just the tattoo. Like hers.”

I point to the woman with the kind eyes. She’s watching me closely, a smile across her ruby red lips. Out of all the women that have taken up residence in my home since my partner left, this one has spent the most time talking to me.

On her chest, above her breasts, she has a tattoo of a symbol that’s foreign to me. I couldn’t begin to describe it. I only know I want it on my chest.

And it just so happens one of the women in this wonderful, warm tribe, is an artist of the tattooing kind.

When did I get so lucky, to have this support from all these beautiful women around me? All these endlessly kind beings? I’d tip my hat if I wore one. I’m afraid the only thing I wear is my heart on my sleeve ever since she left me. Five years gone and cheated on me the past few months for some bloke with dark features, same as me. What did I have that he didn’t? Why did that draw the attention of a tribe of men and women into my home and why do they support me endlessly in this relationship breakdown?

May the party live forever.

I know she senses my thoughts because she frowns to herself. That or it’s because he’s circling her, his eyes on her as he joins her to her right, where he perches like a bird or a ghost or a bodyguard. I can’t decide which. I’m sure he didn’t think about this possibility when he, too, came into my home. I certainly didn’t expect to spark her interest. I’m not even sure she would talk to me if I didn’t talk to her first. The only thing I know about her is that she’s not a vampire like the others and that her wonderful eyes are as big as the moon.

Do I regret the kiss? I’m not sure, to be entirely honest. My heart and mind and very soul still rages at the recent betrayal of my ex. I mean, after she came clean about the affair, she still wanted to suckle on my cock while the others finger fucked her into a delirious state.

We all knew she did it to pass the time – her family was picking her up, her bags were packed – but we still did this. We all did this.

So there’s rage behind my willingness, that I’ll admit, but when she placed my face in her hands and kissed me that first time, I wasn’t just hypnotised, I was mesmerised. Because I could feel her thoughts. I could sense that she wanted to silence my pain as much she wanted to silence hers.

Does that make me a bad person?

There’s no fear in me when the women hold my legs down and apart. I trust these new friends of mine. They did offer me vampirism after all. They even wanted to charge me! But no, this was about the tattoo. The tattoo that would mark my pain and hurt forever, the tattoo that would bond me to these traveling nomads, friends for life.

Some of them, like her, had boyfriends. They were grouped in one room of the house watching tv and drinking. Eventually they would retire to their rooms and sleep, snoring softly.

The circle of women talk amongst themselves. Some of them banter. It makes me smile. They must’ve been traveling together for so long they’ve made friendships for life. Is this what this tattoo is? Am I part of the tribe?

I feel her soft hand on my arm and meet her eyes. There’s something else there now. A wound of sorts flickers behind her eyes. But who would wound the moon? Who?

Despite this, it’s a shy smile she gives me and it makes my heart race. I close my eyes and feel her warmth rising through the bond. It makes me smile too.

Pent Up

Being at my folks for Christmas is a beautiful thing I’ll cherish forever, but being isolated in rural countryside is tapping into my animalistic spirit. I want to run, I need to run. It’s clawing at me. And I can’t help but claw at my kitten, only for her to behave, out of respect for my family and our thin walls around the bedroom we are staying in.

I’m looking forward to getting back to my own house and claiming my lady so hard to make up for all the lost time. I need to mark my territory, shoot my load all over till I’m spent. I can’t stand looking into her eyes, which flicker with submission, and being unable to take her.

Those big, beautiful blue eyes as she looks up at me. I know she feels it. I can sense that in her. I hope I make her as soaked at times as she makes me achingly hard.

The thing is, something stops me – from masturbating in the shower, from taking her. Is she daring me? Is she teasing me? Does she secretly want me to take control? I feel I know her tones by now but sometimes the animal in me wonders.

God, if it wasn’t so crowded, I would tear off my clothes and go running through the acres of land my parents have, panting, sweating, clawing, seething, growling. I want to peel those clothes off till I see your bare, pale ass, till I see the animal hidden underneath – the animal no one else knows. I want to lay you down on the grass and inhale your scent till the presence of me before your sensitive pussy lips can’t handle it anymore and starts to soak, starts to drip. I want to break through sense and reason and reality and take us beyond this world and into something and somewhere else. Ascension? An alternate reality? Take me, O take me fucking there, please gods and goddesses of the wild. I pledge to you my heart and mind and cock and body. I want to slide right into her without warning, to hear her gasp and squeak. To fill her like she hasn’t been filled before.

But. That will come. Time to wear my mask and be in plain sight hiding.