A Desire (Patreon)

So I'm posting these on the OF account of my gf and I, and figured I can share them here, since they are writing, after all! I've tackled writing some smut, and it's been fun. Let me know what you guys think!

Uh... big NSFW warning!

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The house is dark when I return home, and I find a strange sort of sadness in believing you’ve gone to bed already. The ebony coat that paints the small home is filled to the brim with longing, with a gentle want to see you just a moment longer before the cycle of work begins again in the morning, and you are whisked away as light peers through dawn-lit windows. I wish to kiss you once more, to listen to your voice as you explain the activities of your day, to touch your skin and let you touch mine. I wish to fill the wanting ache with soft affection before sleep steals us both away.

But alas, it seems tonight is not the night for such wants.

I close the door as quietly as I can manage, set my keys beside it, and begin to undress from work. I smell of sweat and bread and salt. Some dough sticks to the sleeves of my shirt and I do not bother to clean it off. The weariness of the day is starting to get to me, and I can feel a certain weight upon my shoulders that bears down upon my throbbing heels.

The darkness remains nearly pitch for me, my eyes refusing to adjust, and I navigate blindly through the cottage. After a few stumbles, I make it to the bedside, reach across the covers, and startle when you grasp my wrist.

“Lauren.” Your voice is low. For an instant, I feel as if I’ve been caught doing something I ought not to.

“You’re awake,” I whisper, my voice tentative, if not a bit unsure. “I didn’t—“

“I want you to kneel.”

I blink at the shadows, the command taking me a moment to process. The stubbornness in me urges me to ignore the prompt. Everything else in me wants to obey.

“Kneel?” I repeat, as if I didn’t hear you the first time. I taste the word in my mouth, musing for a second how I wish to act. Perhaps I ought to tease you. Perhaps I ought to see what might happen if I don’t listen.

The covers shift, and while I can only see the shadows move, I can tell from the sound that you’ve sat up. You pull me closer. I fret you’ve heard my thoughts.

“Kneel, kitten,” you breathe.

That, I cannot ignore. With a thick swallow, I lower myself to my knees by the side of the bed. The wood floor presses firmly against my skin. The chill grounds me in the moment, and I am suddenly incapable of distancing myself from what is happening.

Not that I want to.

You grasp my chin, lift it, and hum thoughtfully. “Good.”

Your thumb runs along my jawline. I lean into the touch, letting my eyelids droop. I relish the way you touch me, the way you caress my body with such firm gentleness. A callous on your thumb catches against my chin before you pull your hand away. A whine escapes my lips. I shift closer as you wrap your legs around either side of me. I kiss your inner thigh, run my fingers along your calf, find myself entrapped by your strength and beauty. My lips wander higher, delighted to discover you wear nothing. I grasp your sides, let my hands trail upwards and tease your nipples. I brush my tongue along your inner folds and drown in the pleasant flavor of an ocean’s brim.

“Lauren,” you say again. The way you say it makes me stop. “You’re so eager.”

“And you’re sexy,” I manage. Your chuckle makes me smile. I kiss your stomach as your fingers curl in my hair. You use the crimson strands to pull my head back. Thoughts vanish for a breath.

“Are you going to behave?” You ask.

“I always behave,” I lie.

A snicker fills the room and I can hear—more than see—you shake your head.

“Liar,” you murmur. Your hand wraps around my throat for a moment. I press against your grasp, hungry for the pleasure it offers, hungry to offer you control. You hold me, and I can feel your eyes roaming. I don’t have time to think what you might be pondering before you reach around me and pull the straps of the collar around my neck.

The padded fabric locks tight. My eyes close, a deep, desiring exhale escaping my lungs. You tug on the leash.

“I’ve been good,” I rasp, following your lead and climbing to my feet.

“Have you?” You drag me closer. I move to kiss you, but you move back.

“Yes,” I whine. “I’ve been good.”

“I don’t know,” you purr. “You’d be better if you went down on me.”

Something shifts in my head. As if I was waiting to see what role I was designated to play, and now I’ve been given direction. I kiss along your neck, trailing my teeth across the softer parts of your shoulder as my hands move to tease. I cusp your breasts, let their weight rest upon my palms and their volume to push against my grasping fingers. I am lucky. I am lucky to be with such a gorgeous woman.

I pinch your nipples between my thumb and pointer finger, rolling them gently. I listen to your breathing change ever so slightly. I listen to your heartbeat. When your voice catches in your throat, I know I’ve done something pleasurable, and remember that for future teasings.

Eventually, I move my mouth to them, and find myself quickly becoming lost in how my tongue feels against you, how you taste, how you stroke my hair and rest your eyes upon my frame.

I move lower. I trail kisses along your sternum, your ribs, your stomach. The collar’s leash rattles as you let me go, holding the end loosely in one hand. I kiss your inner thighs, bite as want begins to build. But I keep my hunger shackled, and move slowly, intentionally. I kiss your lower lips, brush my tongue along them, smile when your hips lift to meet me. I know you want more when your body presses closer, when you tug firmly on the leash. I take your command, and as you rock your hips against my mouth, I am engulfed with your flavor. A moan spills from my lungs. I want to devour you. Badly, I want to fuck you as senseless as you fuck me - but I know better. You’ve taught me better. I must be intentional. I must be soft. I must ensure your bliss.

I swallow thickly and find my mind resting on the edge of a sea cliff. You are soft against my tongue, warm, and welcoming. I can smell the beach off you, and it mixes with your common aroma of the forest. What I wouldn’t give to be between your legs in a place such as my mind constructs - the cusp between the overgrown woods, and the untamed waters beyond.

I focus back on the present, let the way your tender body envelopes me solidify my wandering thoughts in the now. You rock harder against my mouth, and I keep myself controlled, following your lead as you press into me, as you pull away, as you grip my hair the closer you creep to your climax. Your pace quickens. I try to listen for your breathing, but it is buried beneath the serenade of you fucking yourself with my mouth, of my moans, of the dizzying desire in my head to hear you come.

You reach it, and your cries cut through the air suddenly, sending me into a lustful daze. I retreat back a fraction of an inch, not wanting to cause any pain as your orgasm takes you. I kiss you gently, cum and saliva dripping from my lips. Your high calms and your breathing begins to steady.

Certainly, there is no greater pleasure than in hearing yours.

I keep my touches soft, affectionate. I hope that through them, you find some warmth, some comfort - love. I am content to stay on my knees a moment longer to ensure your satisfaction, but the leash grows taunt and the collar grasps my throat firmly. I stumble to my feet, my head a little dizzy. Each time the straps dig into my throat, I can feel my hold on a sane state of mind slip a little more.

You pull me close, but not close enough to kiss you. When I lean in, you pull away, and I can’t help the whine in my exhale.

“Leora,” I murmur.

“Mmm?” I can hear the smirk in your hum. It makes me both want to pounce you and beg you to fuck me. Unfortunately, it also steals words from my tongue and I am left with nothing but another whimper. “What, Lauren?” The way you say my name sends chills down my spine. “What is it you want?”

Another huff of breath leaves my lips, recognizing that you want me to ask. Asking for pleasure has gotten easier with each time you’ve pushed me to do so, but something about it still sends a wash of lust through every nerve in my body, and makes it difficult to speak. I swallow. Your flavor still graces my mouth. It does not help the desire already ravaging every sensible thought out of my head.

“I…” A crow purr slips from me, my tongue clicking in quick succession as the feeling gets to almost be too much. God, I wish you’d use me until my body gave out. “I need you to fuck me, Leora. Please.”

“You little slut,” you whisper, leaning in and kissing my ear. A series of shivers race along my spine, almost overwhelming me. I pull away slightly, but you keep the leash firm, ensuring no escape. “You always want me inside you, don’t you?” You bite my earlobe, and I freeze. Your breathing is hot against my skin, your teeth against me makes my mind spiral. I don’t know what to do. If I let you continue, surely I will lose grip on civility. If I pull away, I deprive myself of the way this makes me feel.

“I want to fuck you senseless,” you growl. You yank on the lead, and I practically fall onto the bed beside you. You climb to your feet and press a firm hand against my back, keeping me from moving. Hands grasp my pants, and you undo their latch so they slip from my hips. You free me of the boxers I wear. I feel them bundle by my ankles, just as your fingers brush the tender parts of me.

A moan ruptures my lungs. Lust and pleasure dance upon my nerves. My stance widens and my hips tilt, offering you more, asking for more. Your low chuckle makes my legs shake, makes the breath in my lungs falter. Soft fingers curl around my waist, soaked with me.

“You’re already so wet,” you whisper. Amusement plays in your voice. “Such an eager kitten.”

I bite my lip and grasp the sheets beneath me until my knuckles go white. It’s getting more difficult to think of sentences, to construct words - each time you speak to me in such a manner, I can feel every part of me long for you, and abandon any sense of coherence. I almost tell you to stop - if you keep going, I will lose myself to you, to this. But I am saved by primal instinct. It buries any hope for refinement, for the mask displayed to polite society.

You play. Gentle brushes trace patterns on my inner thigh, tease my folds, make me whimper and whine. I press into your hand, wordlessly begging for more, but you pull away. I open my mouth to protest.

“Stay,” you command. I hurriedly nod, despite my urge to turn, to grab you, to insist you stay and fuck me until I cannot stand. The hope for praise keeps me still, with my legs spread and my face in the covers. I feel horribly exposed and deeply vulnerable, but I stay, as told, because perhaps you’ll call me good.

The sheets hold your scent, the scent of a forest’s edge intoxicating as I listen to you pull on the harness for the strap somewhere behind me. Sometimes I fret that the sound of velcro will one day be a turn-on. That I will hear it out in the world and think of moments like this, and find myself struggling to keep a lid on the frenzied thirst for you.

Your hand slaps my ass. The strike takes me by surprise, which quickly turns into further arousal. The sting of the impact floods my veins with erotic hunger. My breathing changes. I attempt to lift my hips higher, only for you to slap me again.

I can’t help but squirm. My heart thunders in my ribs. Again, and again, the sound of your palm against my skin fills the room, matched only by my cries of ecstasy. The moment you pause, I attempt to catch my breath, my vision spinning. I find it hard to focus my eyes on anything, which serves only to distract my mind. I let my eyelids flutter close as my chest heaves.

There is a pop of the lube bottle. My toes curl in anticipation, and your fingers run along my lower lips.

God, I want you.

You coat me with the lube, then your fingers press into my opening and finally - finally - I can feel you touch my inner walls.

I don’t hesitate. I immediately push against you, forcing you deeper inside. Your chuckle - your amusement in me - only makes me more wet. Slowly, you begin rocking in and out. Every part of me howls with joy. The rhythm quickens. I can hear the lusty melody of love-making, can hear how wet I’ve become, can hear how you pleasure me. A climax begins to build at the base of my spine, and my moans shift to reflect that growing high. As I near it, you plunge deeper and harder into me. You brush against a place that nearly sends me over the edge, and your name escapes my lips.

You pull out before the orgasm hits.

Frustration bites me immediately. “Leora,” I whine, my labored breathing tinting my voice.

“Hm?” The smile you wear is clear in how you sound. You’ve grown smug and immensely pleased with yourself.

“You’re being a tease,” I huffed.

“No,” you breathe. “A tease? No.”

The dildo rubs against me, and any further sentences of protest flee my mind. You don’t enter me, instead, you continue to be inimical, letting the strap run along my tender lips. I protest with agitated huffs, but not much more than that. I fear you may take that as a challenge to taunt more, should I be too antagonized by you.

You slap my ass again. As I gasp, you yank on the collar, dragging me partially up off the bed. And then you thrust into me. For a moment, I am breathless, and can only manage to choke on any sounds I might try to make.

“Good, kitten,” you breathe. “You look so good with me inside you.”

My arms nearly fail me at that. I attempt to wait patiently, dizzy off the words you’ve spoken, but you’re not moving. I shift, riding the strap as best I can from my position, relishing in the feeling of you filling me. You allow me for a moment, before, with a dominating growl and a forceful stroke forward, you pin me against the side of the bed. One hand wraps around the front of my throat, while the other keeps the leash taunt. Your lips are near the back of my neck.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” you hiss.

“Yes,” I say. “Yes, Leora. Please fuck me. Please.”

Another growl rumbles through your throat. Instinct rises to the surface again. Bear your neck, it says. Show you’ll be obedient. Show you’re no threat. Submit.

I attempt to follow its instructions, but you don’t let me lean back into the mattress. No. Your hand presses harder against my throat. The pressure urges a small smile to curl the corner of my lips.

“Do you want me to ravage you?” you ask.

“Yes,” I insist. “Please, god, yes.”

“You’re such a whore.”

Something snaps. Sanity, I think. It breaks within my mind and I toe ever closer to the edge of subspace. I’m having a hard time keeping hold of any thoughts, and before I can regain any composure, your hips rear back, and slap into me. You drag the dildo back, touching every sensitive part of me, and then striking deep. You give me only a few seconds before your ruthless fucking begins. The bed squeaks. My legs shake. I grip the blankets and hold onto them as if they might help steady me. The sounds of passion grow ever louder. I hit an orgasm, feel it rack my body with such intensity it, for a moment, closes off nerves. But you don’t stop. As the orgasm relaxes, I can feel again, and I am instantly back at that climax and riding it down once more. You still do not stop. It hits again, and subspace offers a hand. Your pace shifts, focusing on harder, deeper strokes. This time, when the orgasm takes me, you press as far into me as you can manage, and hold me there.

“Good, kitten. Cum for me, you little slut.” You let the leash loosen and I collapse on the bed, gasping my way through the shivers and aftershocks. You give me a second. Then your fingernails trace down my back. “You are so precious,” you say. I whimper. “And so important to me. With such a beautiful cunt.” I swallow thickly. I want to say something. No words come to mind. “I’m going to fuck you until you call mercy,” you continue. “Because you are mine.”

I plunge off the cliff, swallowed wholly by the peace and thoughtlessness of a submissive headspace. You pull out. You tell me to get on the bed, and I manage to follow your commands. You push me onto my stomach and growl. You press your chest into my back as you lay upon me, lift my hands to the bedframe, and wrap the leather cuffs around them. You lock me in place. I am at your mercy, and I could not be more comfortable resting in the safety of your control.

“Give me your ass,” you say as you sit back. I lift it for you. I spread my legs and tug against the restraints, checking their strength. Your hands trail over my skin, before I feel your dildo penetrating once again. With each violent thrust, you let out a growl-tinged grunt. It pierces into my desires and elevates my pleasure. My legs shudder. Wails of delight accent the squeaks of the rocking mattress. The vines strung up on the canopy overhead rustle, and for a moment, I am a simple beast, victim to a ravenous tiger’s hunger.

A hunger challenged only by her prey’s insatiable thirst to be claimed.