Yes. When we fuck, I want it to be the best that it can be for you. I want to make you scream so loudly that your throat is sore for weeks and finally when they have to take your tonsils out, I can say, “I did that”.

Lips mangle and teeth clash and I’m not even sure we’re kissing anymore. It’s a struggle to crush him into me. I maul and bite and I taste blood–I’m not sure if it’s his or mine.

My want for him is ubiquitous. The hunger is persistent and never fully sated.

Besides all of that, some part of me was punishing him for being so careless with my feelings. I was glad to learn he recognized it as a punishment. It was.

Animal abuse isn't acceptable. And it's not acceptable as a subject for erotic literature.

He tugged at his cock, and like a good boy, he stayed focused on me. In less than a minute, he was hard again. I smiled broadly, knowing that his body had betrayed him again. Jerking himself off with my glove turned him on. I’m sure he wished it didn’t, but it did.

Propped up on my elbows, I looked down over my own breasts threatening to spill out over my corset, down over the shiny steel buckles and black leather cinching my waist, over my tiny skirt bunched up around my hips. I looked down to his face held fast between my thighs at the precise place where my pale skin disappeared underneath the black leather boots. Just over my skirt, just past my own wet cunt, his hungry, beautiful blue eyes stared back at me, asking for permission to plunge his tongue into my pussy.

I prefer to have things ready before J comes over–I adore watching his reactions when he walks into the bedroom and sees everything laid out and set up for us. Sometimes he flashes a beautiful smile and then tries to conceal his excitement. Other times, his eyes go wide and he can’t hide his nervousness. My favorite reaction is some combination of the two–excitement and nerves–particularly when he realizes I’ve purchased some sort of gear he never expected or an implement he never imagined I’d be interested in. Sometimes I think he underestimates me, and I’ve come to enjoy watching his mental process when he realizes his error.

The implications of excess...

The struggle that plays across his face is delicious. He objectifies me while simultaneously fighting the urge to do just that. I love watching his conflict–he’s beautiful when he fights himself.