Seated at the edge of the ottoman, shuddering, she looks up at him. In this moment, she is at her most vulnerable, the most exposed. Stripped of all defenses, all armor, all that is left is HER. Surrendered to him.
Tired, yet unable to be still, her legs are slightly stiff from the prolonged position above her head, attached to that hook in the ceiling. The backs of her legs and her bottom are stinging and red, warm from the impact, the slightly scratchy cloth on the ottoman reminding her he’s just been there. Hot to the touch and extra sensitive, her nipples, still taut, register even the smallest shift in the air around her as he moves. She’s gathered her hands, pressed together between her thighs, chilled, trying her best to stop the shaking. But she cannot. It’s involuntary. Her body is speaking for her, now.
Just a bit ago, as he maneuvered her body, her mind followed what was going on around her, wondering what he might be grabbing, thinking about the tightness of this or the looseness of that. Feeling the chill of the air, noticing the music in the background. And then, he began.
The directed words encourage her to do as he wishes, the bite of pain, again and again, the constant rumble of vibration, the pinch and pull on her nipples as he moves, his warmth, moving inside her, and her senses are overwhelmed. Pushed and focused, taken to a place she can’t quite understand. It feels so foggy and full inside her head, but it’s not. In fact, all that’s left in her head, is him. She can think only of him. She feels only him. She smells and tastes and hears only him. She cannot see him, but that doesn’t matter. Every ounce of her knows it’s him who is consuming her every sense. It is him who has pushed her to this place where she’s ready to cling to him. She’s fallen so far into herself, giving of herself and challenging herself for him, until all her layers are gone, revealing her core to him.
This yearning she feels as he finishes is so strong there are not words for it. Her body speaks a language she desperately needs him to understand; she couldn’t explain right now no matter how hard she tried. Skin. She NEEDS to feel his skin, his weight upon her. She needs to feel HIS need. Now that she sits before him, her truest self for him, she needs to feel him NEED her as much as she needs him. Closing her eyes, she simply gives the last of herself to him. Beyond surrender, this is faith. Faith in him to catch her, to carry her, to take her in his arms and keep her right there. Forever.