Possessive Tense

April 27, 2021 13 Comments by Monocle Erotica

Originally published Jan, 2010, taken down for inclusion  in an anthology, 2013. Restored April, 2021.-  M

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“Fuck… fuck. You b-bastard.” your breath broken, the panted words sound bitten off of something inside.

“Mmm. Yes. That’s me.” Still hard, still buried in you, the trailing shudders of your orgasm milk my cock for its last drops. No matter what you’d said, you’d come hard enough to hurt both of us. “Yes. Fuck me is right.”

“Oh, God, I never…”

“I know.” I mock, “you’ve never done that before. You could never do that. It shouldn’t feel good. ‘Good girls don’t. Sane, healthy women would never…” You squirm under me, pinioned, our sweat slick between us.

“But you’re not a good girl, are you. You could. And you did.” Your skin is so soft, so hot against mine. I lick your neck up to your ear; the bite mark will be hard to hide. You shudder at the sting of saliva on broken skin, and I feel it all the way down, your insides fluttering around me in reaction. The noise you make is halfway between moan and sob.

“What…what are you doing to me?”  Your eyes are so pretty with the welling of tears, the dilation of climax, the tremor of fear and uncertainty.

“Darling. You know. I’m making you mine. Making you my whore.”

That sound. That little whimper you make, like a trapped animal, like a wanton slut. It makes me twitch. Makes me stiffen again and push inside you.

“Un-h… I’m not a…”

“Not a whore? Dearest. Weren’t those your very words? When you were begging me to fuck you? To make you come? You said. And didn’t I hear and give you what you wanted?” My mouth hovers close to your ear, as if telling a secret.

“No… yes..”

“Didn’t you come, again, just like I said you would? You can again, too. You will again, whenever I want. And you will love it, you will want it with all that you are.”

“Please.”  If you keep sounding like that, I won’t be responsible. I’ll start again. But then, you are a little right, I know. So I relent just a bit, I will exact my price for that later.

“No. You’re not a whore. A whore doesn’t care who gives them what they need. I could give a whore to a colleague or client, a friend or a bum off the street, and you wouldn’t care, and I wouldn’t care, as long as your cunt or your ass was full and your body shaking with pleasure.” I accent every few words with little thrusts. I hear your whined protests; but your bucking hips and arching back contradict you. The flood of our fluids slurps and sluices, spreading the pungent stain of us on the sheets. My voice turns harsh, accusing.

“But no, you’re under my skin. You’re my whore. You fucked yourself into me as sure as I fucked myself into you, you amazing, delectable little slut. You didn’t even know it. I didn’t even know it until it was too late. And I am far, far too selfish. Too territorial with what I truly want. You, I will not share; not give away to anyone. I’m keeping you. You’re mine.” I punctuate my possessiveness with harder and harder jabs.

“Oh, God.” It could be anguish in your voice. It could be relief. Both are correct. Fuck. I want you again. Right fucking now. And look, there you are, under me, ready and waiting.

“Now. Once more, my sweet.” Being just a whore might have been the easier path for you, I think to myself. But it is too late now, for both of us. I reposition us, reaching for the  bed-table drawer. “I promise, you’re going to like this, too, by the end.”

“No-o…” But your voice and wet eyes lie. I feel you squeeze me inside, trying to devour me whole. That’s my girl.

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Categories: Erotica, Flash, Raziel, ReluctanceTags: Erotic Fiction, erotic flash fiction, Erotic Writer, Erotica, featured, Monocle, Raziel Moore, reluctance