Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Being a toy

His fuck toy.

As appealing as the words are, the reality is sometimes a little daunting.

When he uses my mouth and then comes inside my pussy, falling asleep behind me due to exhaustion, his softening cock still inside me, his finger still buried in my mouth, my needs mostly unsatisfied, my dignity is affronted.

And then I realize, what dignity? This is what I asked for - to be used when he needs or wants, no recriminations, no hassles. 

I feel his seed trickle out of me as his soft cock slides from my body, shaken free by a shudder that wracks my frame as the realization hits me: a toy does not complain when it is used and its owner falls asleep. 

Suddenly it is right. It's okay. I've fixed my own internal anger and I wriggle my body to get closer to his.

But as I shift, he stirs. 

"Why are you so good to me?" he asks, as if he never fell asleep.

"You're asleep," I tell him, laughing a little, lighthearted.

"I am?" he asks. "Kiss me."

I turn my head and our lips meet in the darkness; tender heat builds between us as our gentle kiss lengthens into a place where time has no meaning. Our tongues dance, and my soul flies as his love and appreciation pour into me. His hand wanders to the apex of my thighs, which I closed when I shifted. I purr as his fingertips brush my skin.

"Open your legs for me, sweet girl." His words are gentle and soft but it is nonetheless a demand. I whimper as I am forced to release my resignation to nothing, but I comply, spreading my thighs to allow his hand access.

His words of devotion, adoration, and appreciation invade my ears. As he delivers the pleasure I had convinced myself I did not need, as the lights explode behind my eyes and I cry out with all the intensity of multiple releases, another realization comes to me.

This is what I asked for. The love invades me even more thoroughly than his words and fingers do, permeating all the spaces that are not open to physical intrusion, seeping through my skin and saturating my soul.

I was okay with him being asleep, but when he woke up he wanted to take care of me.

Spouse, lover, treasure, slave, toy.

All these things, we are for each other, regardless of the labels that make our lives more convenient.

I wouldn't have it any other way.


28 comments:

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    1. I'm glad you like it. :) Thanks.

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  2. Yeah, I would think that too every once in a while, and then I remember....:D

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    1. It's interesting the thoughts that get lost and found again.

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  3. yes yes yes! THIS! THIS THIS THIS!

    (I know, I'm so ARTICULATE tonight)

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    1. This made me smile. :) I seem to have struck a chord. I'm glad.

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  4. I could tolerate being Master's toy. As long as he doesn't play with me during sleep time.

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  5. Great post! Helps me understand these relationships a bit better.

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    1. Oh, I'm delighted to hear that! Thank you!

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  6. Yes. It's like that. ;-)

    Stay SINful
    Mr. AP

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  7. Very nice. Poetically articulate and complete. Love.

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    1. I feel like I just got an A+. :) Thank you.

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  8. Poetry. Pure poetry. freakin loved it.

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    1. It's not often I hear the "p-word" applied to my writing. It feels nice, thank you.

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  9. This is beautiful. You capture so well the tension between wanting to be "used" and wanting to be taken care of, and then the ending - I hope someday I'm half as luck as you two! <3

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    1. I hope someday you're fully as lucky as us. :) Thank you.

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  10. I struggle with this as well. It is good to know I'm not alone and you provide a wonderful perspective for me to consider when I'm feeling a bit put out. Thanks.

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    1. I'm very glad to know it's helpful. :)

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