"I'm poison, "I hissed into his ear, kissing his neck, opening my mouth and locking my teeth against his soft skin.
I told him my name was Poison.
He laughed and threw his head back, delicate strands of dark hair everywhere. There was a warmth in his closeness, the smell of his cologne. He seemed oblivious to everything but my breasts pressed closely to his chest in the crowded room. His hands precariously around my waist, that first kiss he nervously placed on my parted lips as I pulled his head down by the neck.
That deep, hungering kiss, teeth against teeth, his tongue so far back in my mouth it caught my breath. I fought back, tightened my fist in his hair, felt his moan against my tongue and bit down.
Hands tight around my waist, the taste of blood in my mouth. He pulled back and breathed hard into my ear. He said, breathlessly, “Poison.”
*****
I cried when we made love that night.
Not because it hurt, or because I was afraid, or because I didn’t even know his name. I cried as I watched him above me, his eyes shut tight in delirium, his body thrusting against mine. I cried because he was an angel, the most innocent creature I had seen. And I wanted to hurt him more than anything.
Oblivious in his motion, lost in the feel of my naked body enveloping him tightly, he was in his own world. Half breaths, hair in his face, his hips against mine. I felt his body, I moved my fingers along his skin and he was in his own world.
I whispered through tears, “I want to hurt you,”
And he said nothing, he groaned, he threw his head back.
The feeling of him inside me was mesmerizing, yes, but nothing at that point mattered to me more than seeing those eyes in pain. He wouldn’t open his eyes. I lifted both legs slowly, outstretched them, pressed down and he moaned, moaned as he entered me deeper. I slid down into the bed further and opened my legs more, he hissed my name, he said, “Poison..Oh god..”
My legs slowly wrapped around him, ankles into the small of his naked back, his delicate flesh. No pressure, yet I wanted to feel as if I could break him in half. I wanted to stop him from breathing, make him look down at me with begging eyes, lashes wet with tears and agony. Still plunging into me, but with pleading half-breaths.
But he was so beautiful, I shut my eyes, I untensed my legs and held them snug around his waist to feel him move against me. And when he climaxed I shuddered, I felt his chest on mine, his heart beating as my fingers played in his dark hair.
“I want to hurt you,” I whispered again as he rubbed his cheek along the tears on my face.
There was a soft murmur from him, he asked me if I was ok, if he had hurt me, been too rough. He was alert now, concerned, but soft-spoken and sweet.
“Next time,” I whispered as I traced a finger up his cheekbone, watching his eyes, they seemed so dark and intense the way they looked at the wetness on my face, “Next time, we do it for me?”
He tilted his head a little, like a proud father looking at a schoolgirl, reaching up and pushing the hair out of my eyes, “You want to be on top?” he asked, and I could see the sparkle in his eyes. He truly believed that was all there was to it, a shy little treasure underneath his naked body, timid but wanting to take the upper hand.
More tears came and he chuckled at me, told me not to be afraid, that I should not be embarrassed for such thoughts.
And as much as I wanted to roll over into his arms and tell him how serious this really was, what control really meant, I left my angel in his content slumber and fell asleep to the sound of my name softly on his lips, “Poison.”
*****
That week he called me several times, took me to a carnival, we had ice cream. He pampered me and held me close when sat in theaters, he held my hand when we walked in the street. He brought roses once and the card said “I never knew Poison could be so sweet.”
So beautiful, he was, I could just stare at him for hours, and how delicate he seemed even though he was bold and confident. His eyes seemed to speak on their own, he always seemed so animated and intrigued by the things around him.
The night came, finally, and my stomach was in knots. I knew it had to be, it had to be because I could no longer stand looking at his face without ending that burning hunger inside of me. I could no longer stand wondering how those eyes could talk, how the soft gasps of pain would feel against my face, how his tears would feel on my lips.
Our naked bodies were warm, he was breathing hotly into my ear and my fists were both clenched in the bedsheets as his body started to press into mine suggestively.
“My angel,” I whispered, and my voice was shaking as his mouth placed gentles kisses down my neck, my breasts. He was showering me with love, and affection, long lingering kisses, talented tongue, moving down my stomach and waist. My legs opened reflexively as his breath trailed and lingered at my thighs, his hair falling and tickling my wet sex.
My hands shot out and took his face at once, and I heard myself hissing, “Stop.”
Those eyes, looking at me curiously, as he placed a tentative kiss on my thigh and lifted his head. “What’s wrong?”
“Don’t go there,” I said with shaking breaths, I could feel my cheeks hot.
He lowered his face a little and kissed me, softly, on my mound. I gasped and arched my back in response, the sheets rolled tight into my clenched fists. I gasped out loud again, “It’s..poison..” I hissed.
His breath was deep, hot against my wetness, I could feel him breathe as if he was trying to breathe my entire soul, to reach me, to reassure me. I protested softly but his lips were so delicate against my thighs that I melted under his touch, knowing what was coming, what was coming and what would lead to the inevitable.
His tongue moved against me and I shifted my hips up toward his mouth, tightening my fists more in the sheets to prevent myself from reaching over and suddenly, cruelly forcing his head against my wetness and locking my legs around his head.
I bucked against him and he held my body by the waist, gently, sliding his tongue eagerly but with such patience, lapping at my wetness.
“It’s…” I gasped…”It’s too late now…I’m sorry, I’m so sorry….”
His tongue moved deeper, sharper as if telling me to quiet down and enjoy, and all I could do was arch my back more as I felt one hand move, slowly, slowly. I watched my own hand as it approached his head, all I could see was his dark hair, a slight motion as he dove deeper, deeper into me.
My fingers found his hair and I shut my eyes. I lost sense of his tongue inside of me and all I felt was the pounding of my heart. I slowly tightened my fist. I hissed an apology but it was so quiet even I did not hear it. And as my fist tightened I felt his breath shake a little. Tears started to well up in my eyes.
I pulled, slowly, until his head came up and he gasped, then tried to turn to kiss my wrist, to kiss the hand that was so brutally pulling him up by the hair. I was shaking.
In a combination of blurred motions, I pulled him up toward me again and guided his mouth to mine, kissing him deeply, savoring my own taste, lapping at his tongue hungrily, tasting my poison.
His eyes were closed as we parted, I felt him repositioning his body to enter me, but I closed my legs under him and whispered, “I need it for me this time.”
His breath came in a shaky gasp and he said softly, “Yes…ok..” and started to move, to roll over, prodding me to move with him so I could slide on top.
“No,” I stopped him, his eyes opening slowly at the urgency in my voice. “Stay right there, I want you to make love to me,”
He nodded and slid back toward me, looking at my eyes, concerned at the tears pooling in them, stroking my hair again. “What is it, what can I do?” he asked in a soft voice.
“I want to hurt you,” I said, and this time his eyes were on mine, alert.
He looked at my lips, then my eyes, stroking my hair with his fingers as he was propped up on his elbows above me. “Hurt me how? Why?”
I reached up and put my hand over his lips to silence him, and his eyes were fixed on mine. He was alert now, listening. He could see how serious I was, and I think I sensed for the first time some hesitation in his body.
I looked at him with love, affection, lust. I used my other hand to stroke his hair back and just stared at him, but he made no moves to pull away from the hand that covered his mouth. He just watched, waited, swaying a little above me, his body poised and ready. Waiting.
I reached back down to my side and found my tangled stockings, bringing them up slowly and bringing down my other hand from his mouth. As he watched me unravel them he said quietly, carefully, “Do you want to tie me up?”
His voice had a hint of nervous arousal, of a schoolboy fantasy coming to the surface. His body continued to move precariously above me, hot, his hardness against my leg, pressing into my wetness, reminding me of his readiness.
I said nothing, my eyes fixed on the black silk in my hands as I tied one knot, then two, then three. I saw him tilt his head a little as he watched me, just watched my moves with detached curiosity.
Without looking up at him I said softly, “Open your mouth.”
His breath was against my cheek. He kissed me.
I pushed him away, pushed him up so I could look at him. His eyes moved from the stockings in my hand to my eyes, then back down. “What..what is it?” he asked. “Tell me what’s going on, why are you acting so weird?”
“Open your mouth,” I repeated, reaching up with the stockings and placing them against his bottom lip.
He sighed and lifted his eyes, looking up, opening his mouth.
“Wider, “I ordered as I raised the stockings.
I shut his eyes slowly and widened his jaw, tilting his head down to me. I was shaking, shaking hard at this point with the mere knowledge that he was well aware of what was about to happen to him. I slid the triple knot into his open mouth and reached behind his head, pulling the ends tight and slowly tying them together.
The wetness between my legs increased threefold at the soft discomfort in his breathing, the way he swallowed and turned his head a little from side to side to get used to the feel of the silk tied around him. His eyebrows were down around his closed eyes, his lashes were fluttering a little.
Without knowing it, I started digging my nails into his shoulder blades, until finally he threw his head back and gasped in pain through the gag, falling against me a little as his hands reached for something to hold onto.
I lifted my legs and wrapped them around his waist, pointing my ankles into the small of his back and forcing him in one short motion to enter me, then locking him there. My hands were in his hair at once, clenched in two relentless fists.
His breath came in shaking, painful gasps through his nose and I was shaking. I arched my back, I was ready to cum, I tried hard to focus on his beautiful face but he had his head turned to the side, the hair down in his eyes.
I moved a hand around to his chin and turned his head toward me, his eyes were still shut tight, his mouth open and tense around the big black knot.
“Open your eyes,” I ordered in a low, serious voice, digging my ankles harder into the soft flesh of his lower back. He gasped in pain and arched his body against my grip a little, letting his eyes flutter open and find me.
I held his face in his hands and could barely feel myself pressing up against him, riding him from below, holding his body in a vice-like grip with my legs as my waist pressed up against him with an incessant pulsation. All I felt were his eyes, gazing down at me, how they had such a distant, painful look to them, his lashes long, the bangs hanging down around his face.
He just stared, he kept his eyes on me as I raped him from below, holding his head still so I could look at him as I thrust up against his body with mine, plunging him deeper into me, as deep as I could.
Then the time came and I shut my eyes tight, leaned up and hissed a soft, “I’m sorry,”, using my legs for leverage, using strength he did not know I had, rolling him over onto his back, vulnerable, and straddling him as I pinned his wrists above his head.
My eyes were shut tight and the evidence of tears lingered but I was too far gone. I pinned him and thrust down onto him, plunging him deep into me, holding him down as I did, my nails digging into the soft flesh of his wrists.
He turned his head from side to side with a muffled whimper but I slammed into him harder, hips against hips, pressing down with a steady motion and grinding, relentless. Using him.
My hands found his hair and pulled, tight, until he reached up to push them away, his eyes screwed shut in pain. I slapped his hands away and held them down again, this time leaning down and digging my teeth deep into his shoulderblade until he screamed, a muffled, desperate plea through stockings secured deep into his open mouth.
I slammed a hand over the knot, over his mouth, shoving it deeper, and my eyes were on fire as I glared down at him, threatening, hissing, my body pumping his with a vengeance, growling, “Mine, this time is mine,” My grip over his mouth was painful, I saw it in his eyes, but he did not reach up to push my arms away. His arms flailed for just a bit before finding a pillowcase and a bedpost to grip. His knuckles were white, his body tense.
I closed my eyes tight and concentrated on the feeling of him inside me, the sound of his shaking, muffled breathing, the occasional moan of discomfort as I dug my nails deeper into his flesh.
“I’m poison, “I hissed into his ear, kissing his neck, opening my mouth and locking my teeth against his soft skin.
His eyes were shut tight in pain, in realization, but he did not throw me off. He remained still, accepting, twisting against my body only in reflex as I used him.
Moments later when I had finished, his body bruised, traces of blood down his chest and neck, he shuddered under my touch and kept his eyes shut as I whispered how sorry I was.
Slowly, very slowly his eyes fluttered open, his breath still shaking and his body weak. His eyes were red when he looked at me, he reached up and took my face in his hands and held it.
My eyes closed and I was shaking, starting to cry again, but his fingers traced my skin gently, reassuringly, moving his fingers up to the tears that were trailing, guiding them to my lips where I kissed at them like a little girl.
I opened my eyes again and looked down at him, as he stared up at me in forced silence, his hands free to caress my face yet he did not reach behind him to untie the stockings that were so tightly tied behind his head. No loving kisses, no sweet words of devotion and passion. Just shaking breaths and the soft caress of his fingers against my skin.
I reached down and traced a line down the corner of his mouth, his eyes closing slowly and head turning toward the touch my finger as if to kiss it, if only he were free.
I started to shake more than ever, unable to speak, to feel. I shut my eyes and reached around to find the knot behind his head. He lifted up and turned his head to guide the knot to my fingers and I felt this overwhelming desire to kiss him deeper than I ever had before.
When the gag came free my mouth was on his at once and his tongue felt dry, hungry. The kisses were deep, enveloping, his arms around me tight, my naked body pressed into his.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered between kisses.
“It’s ok,” he whispered back as he held me.
I shook hard in his arms.
“It’s ok,” he repeated.
“I can’t believe I wanted to hurt you,” I cried, “To see the pain in your eyes, to feel your breathing labored and shaking as you made love to me, to make you please me and suffer like that…at the same time.” I sobbed.
He tightened his grip around my body and pulled me closer, nuzzling his cheek to my mouth. “It’s ok,” he whispered, “I’m fine now.”
I shut my eyes tight once again, sighed at the warmth in his arms, and listened to him breathe.
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