The Dark Side of Lust

Ache.

Throb.

Ache doesn't even begin to cover it.

Every month it starts as a pleasant warm feeling flushing across my breasts and a slight tingle in my lower abdomen. My thoughts turn libidinous, and the dampness spreads. This is the fun part. Tactile sensations become sexual, and the lightest touches are magnified, overwhelming. The mission becomes sex. In any form, right now, thank you very much. I can think of nothing else. Touch. Being touched. Taste. Drowning, drunk on the obsession. Raw.

Then it takes a dark turn. The lovely aching becomes pain; deep, hard hollow pain. Like someone has fixed a great weight to my uterus, and it pulls and stretches deep within. And still I'm wet. And the obsession continues. I need to be fucked, and fucked hard.

My fear keeps me from asking. I sit in my chair, gasping with the ache, gasping with tears when you walk by, your fingertips merely brushing against my arm and the touch is so overwhelming and yet not nearly enough. I want to kneel at your feet and beg you, please, fuck me now, fuck me hard, but the fear leaves me unable to move. What am I afraid of?

Somehow, you know. You know I need you, and you know just what I need. Not generous and tender, like last night, when my heart hurt, and I needed love and comfort; no, tonight you know that I need it rough, need it hard, need to be used. You walk me to the bedroom, and as I begin to rearrange the pillows on the bed, suddenly you bend me over, my face in the blanket, ass in the air. No soft kisses, not tonight, no gentle teasing of my nipples. Tonight, you use the bamboo back scratcher to lift my nightshirt, pleased that you find no panties. Hand on my head, you smack my ass with the bamboo, then use it to tease my lips open. Another whack, where my panties will rest tomorrow, in the crease where thigh meets buttocks. I hear your soft voice claiming me, naming me slut, your tone one of pride and ownership. After several more cracks with the bamboo, you lay me across the bed and offer your cock to my mouth. Feverishly I lick and suck at your cock, my body writhing on the bed, your hands sliding down my back to my ass and I'm frantic.

You whisper "I want to fuck you" and from a distance I hear my moan of desperation and gratitude. You lay me on my back and slam your cock into me, your groans matching mine. Hard and fast, you fuck into me and before I can even prepare for it, my orgasm hits, and I cry out. I feel your reaction as you pause, then resume fucking, and I feel your wildness too. As your orgasm begins, unprepared and still not down from my first, I explode again. Overwhelming. It's too much, and I literally can't breathe for a moment or two. I'm sobbing and gasping, unable to speak or move, or do much else but shake with the power of the release.

Moments pass, and finally, I'm able to get some air, but the sobbing into your chest continues for some time. I don't know how you know, when sometimes I don't know myself, but you do, you know, know just what I need every time. Love is too small a word to contain what I feel for you.

For now, the Dark Side is tamed, but I know that tomorrow morning it will return. Several days to a week the Beast lives inside me, tamed only for a few hours at a time. Tomorrow, perhaps, it will be weakened enough to allow me a full taste of your cock, allow me to play, to tease, to return some measure of what you have given me tonight. Thank you, my Beloved.