Compelled

You are the target.

He cannot help but watch. Every night, he walks and walks, a tiny voice urging him that salvation lies a few more blocks ahead. Or around the bend.

Looking around corners.  Stopping at the sight of pastel blue flimsy curtains blowing on a dark night, struck dumb by the illumination spilling out, beckoning.

Do you mind that he stands, silent as the tomb you will one day molder in, watching?

Or gazing, if you prefer that word. For his eyes caress your exposed skin ike hands. His eyes are like mouths feeding on your exposed breasts, nipples hardening at the joy of being free.

His breath, caught, as you rub your nipples, easing their tension. Yet you feel your areola’s pucker and then send a text to your clit, which cc’s your juices to flow and your hand to hastily reach for the shiny silver vibe in the drawer to your right.

He watches. He is riveted.

Are you pleased that he sees you lean against the wall,  brace your thighs and pull your panties to the side? He sees you there, lost in need, as your concentrate with all your might to coax your clit to knock your breathless.

Just for a few minutes, just for a bit…

In his mind, there is nothing but you and as you come- shuddering -he does, too.

Leaning his forehead against the tree, until his legs stop shaking.

So are you.

You walk away to clean up.

So does he.

You couldn’t control yourself.

Neither could he.

Hysterikos

Then:

Not sure what is wrong with me.

The closer I get to you, the more I itch and pant.

It was said that my uterus wanders, is choking me, but I know the truth.

Your neglect is the stricture around my throat.

Hysterical paroxysm brought by doctors and midwives never satisfy the yearning rooted in my brain.

It comes from my mind, no mater where it manifests. My nipples may yawn and grow hungry for your touch. My thighs quiver in anticipation of your caress.  My cunt moistens, my pussy walls clench tightly, wishing you will forcefully batter them down.

I have asked you to be with me. Not to only be fruitful but because I am joined with you. We are yoked, albeit slightly unevenly.

Yet you are away. When you are here, you treat me like glass. Chastely kiss me. Lightly hug me. Bid me a good night and walk from my door. Unfailingly polite, always solicitous.

But distant.  For in truth, I am an accessory.

Only that, after all.

Glance

Smile at me, the way you did when I first met you that warm summer day.

Rub the spot right above my ass, just like you did during our first kiss.

Let your eyes go soft and lazy, as did the first night we fucked.

Or can you only do it for her now? This one, the new one. One in the string before and after me.

Pretty pearls-rose, white, pink, silver, gold, black-all arranged in a row, beads on the string of your memory.

I thought I was your black opal, your blue garnet. The red diamond that fascinated you.

But your eyes slide away from my brightness. Seeking other stones, different gems.  Left cold once you take your warmth away.

Leavings

You crave  juice and pulp. Filling your mouth, running down your chin.

Not slivers of peelings and scented memories, lingering on your tongue.

Relief

I asked you to chose them yourself.

Beautiful, gleaming straight razor. 5/8 extra hollow ground.

The strop.  Supple, 23 inches in length.

Blindfolded. I  have no interest in your eyes. Only your body.

You wait; the sound  of the blade singing across the leather causing your opened mouth to run dry.

Poised. Watching the sweat spring from your pores. Your muscles tensing and releasing, tensing and releasing.

Then:

the icy feel, the sting. You slowly peel away from the edge.

Fall into the abyss.

You skin breathes thin line of crimson.

Finally:

Your mind cries.

Gratitude.

Ground

Like the stones placed in the pockets of witches during the Bad Times…

Like the chains on slaves that were tossed over board off the Ivory Coasts…

Like the rocks which taunted Adam as he tried to furrow the fields on the wrong side of Paradise…

you weigh me down.

You whine, you beg, you plead. For any scraps from the table.

I arrive, you kneel.

Your mouth opens to receive his cock, to moisten it for entry.

It is your task to guide his erect member into me.

Shaking with desire, burning with envy, clenching your bowels in fear of shatting yourself, you obey.

You gently cradle his massive nutsac. Marveling at the amount of cum you will swallow.

There you wait, your micro cock straining in your chastity device.

Finally, your reward.

Hurriedly, you remove his tool and wrap your lips around the head, each hot spurt racing down your throat.

But your joy quickly diminishes.

My eyes are bored, glazed.

Tired.

Of you.

Stimulation

I need to find out if I am writing to please myself, or if I am just trying to participate in the communal orgy of writing. Can I get away from the sublime fuck machine of attention?

I am closing comments. For a while, for a day, forever? Not sure.

Do I need to be watched while I flick my brain to get off or can I do it in silence?

Desiring praise is a weakness.

I must master and defeat such things in my psyche.

Verde

You burn.

Not with lust for me but for what I am, what I possess.

I am a woman, by birth.

I possess soft hairless skin, breasts, curves, a cunt.

Late at night, you slip into what you think I would wear: lacy bra, stocking, garter, delicate g-string. You slip on high heels and walk around. Sometimes, you put on a wig and make-up and go forth to places where you think you are fooling others.

But we know you. We see you.

Did you know we chuckle and shake our heads?

Not because of your desires but because you think we do not know.

We notice our panties missing. We notice the perfume on our bras. Those are not the exact same stockings that were in the drawer before. Our things are out of place, our lipstick tubes have your smudged fingerprints.

You sit in the closet when we leave, heart racing, wearing a dress, your soul crying because you only have one hole below the waist, in which to be fucked.

Pity that, no?

Offerings

Your first thought is of me.

You reach for the phone, automatically. Before food, water, emptying your bladder.

I do not answer; you do not deserve to hear my voice.

Minutes later, the phone buzzes.

You dive for it eagerly.

The text simply reads: bread and water tonight.

You blush and remember your verbal transgression,  which I did not mention last night.

I never forget.

Obviously, you do.

Visitor, in brief

You have been pushing me, pulling at me, begging me for more of my time. Overtly and subtly.

Late one evening, on the phone, I hear your voice.

In the background, I hear your doorbell. I tell you to go answer it.

I hear him ask for you and tell you he was sent by me.

You race to the phone, full of inquiry. I tell you to place the phone on the counter and obey. No talking.

With a half ear tuned t you, I hear him tell you to kneel, to open your mouth.

I hear a slap.

Then: low moans murmured directions, gagging sounds.

Finally, I hear the grunt. You know the one, you make it when you are secretly jacking off to my photos.

I hear his voice fade, the door slam.

Soon, you come on the line, gasping, gently weeping.

You wanted my attention.

Are you pleased?

Smeared

One.

Can I love you, like you, desire you

if you are dripping with piss, lips pasted with excrement ?

No.

Two.

Can I want, embrace, touch you

If you are hard to break, stubborn, recalcitrant?

Yes

Wet

I leap from the shower, eagerly to the bed. My hair curling away from me, moving, seeking to avoid the damage to come.

I hear the subtle grinding of your teeth, as you slip your hands along the curve of my hips.

I place my face in the pillow, to absorb the screams that will dribble out of my mouth.

I feel you, deeply, entering my ass.

Shaking my brain.

Envelope

When you take my ass, I assume that your cock will enter my brain.

Like a sword, I felt you cut through me, slicing my defenses and protests.

Deeper you go, whispering that I can take it.

I take it, because you wish it. What am I but your fucktoy.?

With every bit of pain, I come one step closer to salvation.

Yours.

Jarring

You called me, angry.

Someone needed to bear your rage; I was closest to you in both space and time.

I was quiet, my lips burning, as you words scraped across my face.

Away you went.

I stared at the wall, seing nothingness.

Each second before you called was a deeper slide into the abysss.

Areyougone?Whathashappened?DidIdosomethingwaitwaitWAITWAIT!!!

You called back, to say you were sorry.

Urgently, you apologized and repeated your dismay at your reaction. I forgive you.

You have not yet discovered I am not strong enough to bear your rage. I do not know how to take it.

As I go to my bed tonight, I am accompanied by the fear that I will show you such a thing.

You won’t understand it at all.

Yield

You caressed my cheek, rubbed my lips.

You said that the skin of my nipples was the same as the skin surroundig my puckered orifice.

In giving you the one, do you also have the other?

Transitory

Fingers in your hair, I hear your breath.

Rasping, catching like shards in your throat.

Later…

You wept, beat your head upon the concrete.

I stood there, waiting.

For truth.

Dissolved

On my knees, I pause. Waiting, anxious,scared.

You whisper against my neck: spread wider.

I do. I push my legs apart until I feel my hips creak the muscles gently whining that they are at the limit.

Slowly, you take my ass.

You tell me to not be afriad, your cock loves my ass, it needs it.

it is not my ass i am worried about being bruised.

My heart is the fragile orifice.

Power

Between us, who owns it?

Is it you, who holds my heart in your right hand? Is it held in the palms of your hands, when you spread my ass and whisper in my hair that you need me?

Is it me, who has the ability to cause you to pause, to stop, to abruptly cease what you were doing and give me your undivided attention?

Is it me, who waits and pleads and then… there we are. In the dark, breathing in each other.

Is it you, who pierces my soul with even the slightest movement you make?

Or has it escaped and taken a life separate from either of us?

Slide

There are times that I fail.

There are times when I lose.

There are times when I do not even care to try.

Repeat

Whip across your flesh

welts raise-red sweet tender

again, you whisper

He

bites into me with words.

digs into my heart with his voice.

turns me into nothingness.

Chain;Ball

Because of your frail nature, your weakness, I am tied to you. Here, in this desolate place.

I want to throw you down and fuck you in your ass until you bleed.To slap your face until I see my handprints on your white skin.

To sit on your face and make you beg to eat my ass.

To make you suck my toes until your jaw hurts.

To make you kneel before me and piss on you.

To tie you to bed, take off your belt and whip you until I see welts.

To put you on a leash and make you crawl, as people stare at you and ask if they can use you.

To put your in my closet and make you watch me have sex with another man. Then to have you eat the cum he leaves out of me.

To make you sleep under my bed, with just a thin blanket.

To make you serve me in any and every way. Make you my cook, my cleaner, my servant and my toilet.

Make you my personal footstool.

To use you as my toilet at night, just to stand over you, piss and go back to bed.

To lock you in chastity device.

I want to draw you closer, and kiss you, then bite your lips until you are raw and chapped. All the while, clenching your balls and squeezing until I see tears in your eyes.

I have wanted to love you. But now, I only want to see you cry.

You make me grit my teeth with the desire to grind you to fucking dust.

Stairs

Late, you call. You confess that you found a woman.

Rather, she found you.But how could she miss you, as you shine with need?

You lied to her about yourself. You lied to your girlfriend about where you were.

Isn’t it good that you can’t ever lie to me?

Lasso

A soft click and here you are. Right on schedule.

“Forgive for not writing you but I am not able to explain my agony. The beasts within me are ready to jump out and I can’t control them.”

I wait, for there is more to it.

“It is not yet me who rides them, it’s them who ride me. I am not ready to confront them.”

With a long exhale-released, trembling-I wait.

“It’s not you. You are the mirror that reflects them to me. It’s me.”

Gently, I remind you that I flinched at he sound of you howling, knocking your head against the hard floor in an attempt to quiet the dull incessant roar of your mind.

As usual, it is always not so clear if the monsters are under the bed or within the closet.

But truly, they are real.

Gist

So quickly, that I did not even know until it was too late, I was wrenched from my place in the night sky.

I opened my eyes at the shift from peace to turmoil. Smell the change from jasmine to grass.

As I felt the wind whistling past my startled form, first gossamer but now solid, I heard the command:

“Yet another one. Keep him safe.”

Faster, faster than I was created, I was back.

Thumping upon the ground, so much more solid under my now leaden flesh, I wept. I have hazy memories of this place, which I had hoped to forget.

But my tears drift from my eyes, like the cold snows to come.

Due ( two)

What more do you need?

the blood drips from my fingers

and pours from my lips.

Deep within you reach

heart constricted in my chest

paused, slient, very still.

More

Two.

Of them.

A simple number, but twice the work.

I have no idea how to proceed.

Pathos

I want to dig my nails into your flesh. To see the blood well up in the tracks I have made.

But can stone bleed? Or does it just shatter, once it is harmed?

The prevailing notion is that once a woman has pledged her love, only God can rip it from her heart.

I bare my chest to the Heavens and plead for release.

——–

… I will burn for you
Feel pain for you
I will twist the knife and bleed my aching heart
And tear it apart

I will lie for you
Beg and steal for you
I will crawl on hands and knees until you see
You’re just like me

Violate all The love that I’m missing
Throw away all the pain that I’m living
You will believe in me
And I can never be ignored…

#1 Crush, Garbage

For Gracie

Deeper and Deeper
he pushes.
Until the blood flows
and
The world blooms.

Flash

With a hard tug, you pull me to you, throwing me off balance.

I fail my arms, dig in my toes, but barely, barely do I avoid falling.

As I push away from you to regain my upright position, I see the white of your teeth, so briefly.

Before they sink into my shoulder.

Wait

In the dark, I press my forehead against the cold stone.

Everyone else- defeated, tired, stunned-has fallen into an uneasy sleep.

I am not able to take such comfort, for I watched the veiling of my true Master’s body.  With others, I lifted my voice, a shaky addition to the melody of pain.

I have battled with you, and I am wounded. Fistfuls of my glorious plumage are torn away, my heart has been  pierced.

Quartet

spread out before him.trembling with fear of my pain.that he needs to live

he brings belt to my lips.which gently press upon it.destined to tear skin

his hands grip my ass.hard cock ruptures puckered hole.my blood soothes his ache

screams fly to the stars.echoing with the others.no respite yet found

Magnet

By the virtue of being around you, I am exerting a pull on other beings.

That you have defiled me, gives me a slightly rank odor. Imperceptible to the normal, but pungent to the immoral ones. It causes their nostrils to twitch, as they think,  “yes, she is one of us“.

But I am not. Nor am I meant to save them.

Every time, after you, I plunge myself in the hottest water possible, use heaps of soap, scrub until I am raw.

But you have left your mark, like the way an animal pisses to mark off it’s territory, on my soul.

Nail

Affixed to the cross of your passion, I wait.

Will you, in pity, take me down and kiss my impaled feet?

Or will you leave me on the ground, uncovered, for the ravens to pick out my eyes?

Itch

I close my eyes and I see you, flashes of the people you are talking with, glimpses of the places you enter and exit.

But, for better or worse, I am spared the details of the women you are using. I see them, but not you naked with them. Most are just bits and pieces, nothing particular.

Every so often, one or two are clear.

They are sent by the adversary, to further distract you. These sucubii smile sweetly, but give off a rank odor. Your nostrils are closed to them, only because your desires are so heinous.

It is always more work, to pull you away from one of these infernal creatures. I must give more, suffer more, bear more, hurt more, bleed more, to wrest you out of their sulfuric clutches.

You violate them. I burn with shame to admit that… I long for you to do such terrible things to me, as well.

Anthropos

Epithumiai. Desires. Yours are dark, unholy and totally self-serving.

Logos. Reason. You believe that your debauchery is sanity perfected.

Thumos. Passion.  Your will is virtually unshakable.

At times, I wonder how long it will take to rescue you, how much blood has to be spilled, how long must I silently bear your torments.

My title is ho autos phulax agathos “the good guardian himself”. I am supremely capable of making sure you only can do so much harm. To me, yourself, whomever. I am set to repay you for your actions and free you from your chains.

Of late, I am unbalanced, for I look into your eyes and become utterly dazzled and rapt, as you plow into my body and separate me from my mission. I feel my wings breaking, as feathers fly in the air around us, floating in the breeze.

I cannot imagine losing this battle, which rages between the divine and your passions. I am the creature that can save you from yourself.

Can I truly not repay you for your taunts, intentional barbs and deliberate defilements? There is a small part of, which enjoys your perfidy, that clearly says I can surrender to my base instincts. After all, I am composed of both clay and the finer stuff of the Heavens.

At those times, like Polemarchus, I am perplexed; I get a bit tied up on the finer points.

It is right and pure that you be rescued from the everlasting maw. Is it just that I get sacrificed in the process?

Siege

In my arrogance, my certainty that I was in control, I have been less than vigilant.

You are pulling me into the abyss, dragging me deeper into your domain.

At first, I stood on the precipice, looking down upon your eyes, so filled with desire. It filled me with power, for it was the tool I need to distract you. A few times recently, you sniffed out that I was not exactly what I appear to be. Close calls.

You beckoned me, so I stepped over and followed. As a being of blessed by the light, there was no way you could make me stay.

I didn’t expect that you would infect me with your essence, that you open me-into considering the degrading delights you love as possible; to actually wish for how much more twisted you could be.

Back pressed against the wall, I feel it shudder, as you bury yourself into me and it receives us. Pinned there, caught on your cock and a no place to run. Cradled in this hot, slick, noisy corner of your world, I panic, for I only want you to grow two more cocks and make me humiliation complete.

Here I am drowning in you, the defilement creeping up my legs, across my ass and hips, up my arms, along my chest where it seeks my heart. It burns.

Looking up at the clear sky, so far above me, I whisper silently, “please”.

And was snatched from you, in a twinkling.

But in this clean pure safe place, where I wash away your fluids, I wonder how much many more times can I slip away.

I scrub and scrub. But no matter.

I stink of you.

Vise

The feel of your hand around my neck. Bending to your capricious whim, I will either breathe, or not.

Flinch

With your new toy, you took me to a place where I hadn’t been before.

Painful resentment.

I have been in pain after you were done with me, and you have said things that that made me resentful. But to take my flesh and use it so easily…it causes me to view you a different way. My anger bubbles up, something that I rarely feel.

I saw in your eyes that you were looking for my response, and was not concerned with getting off yourself. My shrieks and teeth-clenching pleas for mercy were what you sought.

You commanded me to look at you, but I focused on your arm, the tensing and interplay of the muscles, as your let the flogger beat a predictable rhythm on my flesh.  Breathing harshly through my nose, I thought that I ought to give in, to let the pain wash me away to that place-where you can do as you please with me.

Not this time. I am not sure if you saw that I was ready to take your toy and jam it in your ass.

You commanded me to turn over. Presenting my back to you, I could only think that my skin had to break soon, that something had to occur that would stop you; before I opened my mouth and let loose words that would.

But it went on and on, until I tore away and screamed your name.

In that moment, I thought of what Christ bore to save me. So, I swallowed my words, which choked me as they went back down.

I will bear this, like all things, as it is the only way I can save you.

Take

What do you have to offer me, that I should worship you?

He gave (and gives) His flesh. You bruise and pummel mine until I cry for you to stop.

He is the Eternal Fountain, flowing with Life. You grab my throat when you enter me, and the world swims before my eyes.

He is with me always, no matter what I do or say. You retreat into silence the second I displease you.

He always listens and comes to my aid when I call upon Him. You are deaf to my pleas and you can only hear me when I am prasing you.

He wants me to have life more abundantly. You seek to take my life, but bit by bit, until I am gasping, choking on despair. You get hard thinking that yours will be the last face I see before I breathe my last.

Do I love you more than He? Of course not, even though you fervently wish it were so.

I do love you, no matter how hard you hit, how cruel you are, how biting your words.

You are my nemesis but I am your redemption, the angel sent to help you, to guide you, so that one day, you can be washed clean. You think I offer my body just for your pleasure but in truth, it is the hook upon which you are caught.

But your nature is unchanging; after you emerge shiny and clean, we will start this cycle of perdition anew.

Visible

You are not satisfied with my words, which erupt from me and cool in the air between us. Pieces of quartz, jagged and cloudy.

Instead you seek to take the very breath from my lungs, and crush the brain that forms my thoughts.

You ask me to give more and more. But you are not satisfied.

You take out your knife, and present it to me. I downcast my eyes, to hide my fear. But you know what I hide.

Stepping behind me, you trim the end of my ponytail. You grab my hands and pare my nails. You lean in, and kiss me, but that is only to distract me, before you press the tip of the knife to my lower lip.

I can’t say that I am scared or turned on. Just immobilized with anticipation.

As you take me roughly from behind, I feel a sharp pain. The sting of you taking a small sliver of skin.

I do not have the ability to cut my flesh for your reliquary.

Maybe, still

I was wrong. You would sit there and watch the crows peck out my eyes, as punishment for not looking at you constantly. You would not flinch as the tatters of my flesh dry out in the sun.

Partially content, you would walk over, calmly pick out my knucklebones, for your key ring My spine would be stacked upon your table, a macabre set of of poker chips. And you would use my thighbone as a poker to stir the ashes of your fireplace.

Just desserts, in your mind, for not properly putting you above God and falling in constant adoration at the very approach of your shadow.

You think I do not know what goes on in your mind. I see the darkness-small flashes-as you chewed your ice cubes in the tea I made. You wished my teeth were cracking in your mouth instead of cold ice, a substance that you can’t hurt.

Instead of a living saint, you want relics, fragments, bits and pieces.

Still

I have found that you are hard, unyielding; planted where you stand.

If I died, would you cradle me in your arms, as the Blessed Mother did Christ? Or would you leave me where I fell, to be devoured by crows and maggots?

I have the answer but I wait for you to verbalize it.

Vision

Saints have visions: of heaven, Christ, the dead, the world to come. I have visons, but they are of you. Often unwelcome, sometimes needed, but wanted.

I them, the light gently enbraces your skin, it dances off your dark hair, it fills your eyes. I see you, all the time everywhere. My eyes are open or closed, it does not matter.

The sight transfixes me, in the way that Theresa of Avila felt the world fall away when the Lord came to her. Nothing about you is holy or promising or offering salvation. Thus, my exhultation is dark, foreboding and destructive, unlike hers.

You only want to whittle me away to nothing. Christ builds, you tear apart.

I always know when you are coming to me, for my feet itch, right in the spot where my stigmata would be, if I were holy. But I can’t be holy, for you are the anchor the pulls me back, the profane that digs in the sacred, the defamation of my character.

I gaze at the form of Christ on the cross, but it is you I see besides him, holding the spear.

You say that you have made me, that you have delivered me from the banality of my life.

My tormentor.

Smoke

In the end, it comes down to smoke. The purifying smoke of incense,as the brazier swings though the nave and transcepts. The snoke that spirls to the sky, from the ashes of a fire.

The curls of smoke from your cigarette, as you squint out of your right eye and ask me if the smoke bothers me. Not that you care, as you will not stop. You sneaked one in the bathroom, but I could still smell it. I kissed you for trying to be discreet about your fixation.

We are naked, the sweat cooling on our skin. Slick between my legs and sticky on my chest, I watch you, and you gaze steadily back.

 Soon, you are looking pasg me, your eys trained on me but you mind far away way that the priest is present but his mind is united with God’s.

I wait. For you will come back to me, although you are not mine, nor am I yours. I have my obligations and you are chained with legalities.

Very much unlike him,  you are and it surprises me, for I thought I would never be able to enjoy another. You are taller, broader and much more gentle. The tattoo of your name, Jesus and your astrological gylph are nothing he would ever bear. Not even on a t-shirt.

You tell me just how I reach you, that I fulfill you, that you have been looking for me all your life. Sounds like pillow talk and it has to be, for I am not able to do more than lie on your pillow every so often.

But for now, you reach for me, snapping back to the present, and I curl around your fingers, dissolving into you, until I feel myself dissolve into so many microns of particulate. In the haze of my desire, the light softens, as I drift higher and higher.

While I shudder and come, I imagine that I will leave a stain on the ceiling as the cigarette smoke is doing. There on the bedside table, the ashes are falling quietly to the floor. 

Impaled

I cannot move. Your cock has penetrated me. I feel you slide along my ridges, your thick silky mushroom head going past my swollen wet lips, to the mouth of my womb. But you do not stop, you press forward into my soul.

With a sigh, you rest. Looking deep into my eyes, you lower your face inch by inch, until I see nothing but you. Blurred, but I know your face so very well.

I am not prepared for when you pull out ans slam back in again. I feel my insides drawn out with you. Back in they are pushed, as you spear me with your petros.

It does not matter if I enjoy you. In fact, you like to fuck me until I am raw and tender. You lick my tender orifice afterwards, and toy dig your tongue in, searching for even more of that shiny red taste of my blood.

Burn

That is what pain does- burns your chest, lungs, heart and soul. Nothing is spared, as you weep, rail, rage or crumble in defeat.

When pain is caused by the other, the one that is beloved, it is worse than imagined.

You cry in lava, your cough out smoke, your kisses taste of cinders. Everything is overcast with a hazy darkness.

But pain can either paralyze or transform. Something always does come of it, it is never a neutral event.