Confusion 14

You tell me it's confusing for you. You don't understand.

What could be less confusing? Your body reacts. You have feelings and needs and thoughts and desires unexplored before now. How have you gone so long without knowing? Only to awaken one day and find yourself bewildered.

You don't want and can't see yourself enjoying being tied to the bed and made to suffer whatever torment I will give you today. You've never had to beg or wanted to scream for more. Every other guy was so willing to do whatever you thought you wanted.

But I know. When I take my tie off and run it through my hands, your panties will be soaked by the time I reach for them. If I've told you not to wear any, there will be a wet spot wherever you are sitting. Your body knows what it wants, even if you don't. Your mind doesn't want to be one of "those women".

One of those people who are kinky and strange. Getting kicks from depravity and bizarre practices and fetishes. You don't want to, but your body does. Oh, how it reacts. Not just the wetness, but the shaking and the incredible orgasms. The heights you've never before reached.

How confusing for you. At least that's what you tell me. For me, it's easy to see. You like it. You love to be tied and just a little frightened. A little edge. Enough to sharpen your senses and make you feel more acutely. Adrenalin. Sex is about hormones dumping into the blood and making it rage.

It's about loss of control and otherworldly pleasures and emotions. Definitely emotions. And confusion is one of those. Need, lust, desire, hope, despair, joy, fear, all of them at once and together for you.

Will I bind your hands with my necktie? Immobilize them while I take your breasts in my hands and push my cock in your mouth? Will I leave your hands free and strap your legs wide? Make you finger your clit and yank your hands away just as you cum? Leave you hanging and panting and shaking with everything but the final bursting from your skin that will come later. Hours later.

Will I stroke your clit with my tongue while you are bound hands and feet together? Shoved trussed onto the pillows and bent until your cunt is open to anything I might choose to do to it?

When I do these things, your pussy positively drips with juices. It swells and gropes in its need. It becomes a grasping mouth for my cock.

I know you wish you didn't need this so badly. That you would get the same feelings from a simple fucking. That you would feel this way if I came home, lit candles and sweetly entered you. Slowly and gently made love to you, heart and soul. And I have. And you loved it. But you also have this need that only I fulfill.

How confusing. How confusing when I take you and move you easily onto the bed, massaging your back and moving comfortably to a climax full and delightful and immensely gratifying. Then the next time force you to an earth shattering orgasm. Kept from you by force and, by an even greater violence, shoved into you.

How confusing that you prefer the complete devastation of your self, soul and world, yet delight in the perfect bliss of the other. Even more confusing that you want both. That you need both. That you love it that you have no idea which you will get next.

What should you have today? Which do you think you want? Don't you wish you only wanted the sweet and gentle love? Don't you wish you didn't care what people might think if you dyed your hair, ripped your shirt and declared yourself "slave" before the world?

How confusing. For you. For me, I see the way you love. I feel you reaching for more, grasping for the heights you could have and need. I crave the feel of you crashing and waging war with your needs. I revel in the rage of hormones and wants and needs. All mixing and enmeshing.

I need the way you want and want to stop. How you can't get the words out of your mouth that would make the turmoil cease, though they are right at your tongue. I need the desperation, the unbridled shivers that go on until you can stand no more. And if I ease them ever so slightly, they'll just come back all the harder.

I crave the vision of your suffering. Your inner convulsions. I love feeling the way they melt with your spasms as I let your orgasm loose upon you. And it takes you. Completely.

I delight in the feel of your shimmering as it surrounds the sensitive flesh of my cock and moves me to my own heights. Oh, and your screams and piteous moans drive to my heart with the same force I drive into you with. They spur me on, touching my flayed nerves and singeing my desires.

To see you there, writhing and flailing as best as you can within your bindings. The way you pull and tug. Wriggle and squirm. I love that you know what will come. I tell you, but you try to ignore it until it comes true. You somehow think that I will relent and act like all the others who would do anything you want if only you show them enough cleavage or move sensuously enough, or sinuously.

And I admit. There is great temptation. Mmmmm how tempting you are. How delightful to the touch and the sight. When you are bare before me it is all I can do to reach for more. But a bare body is nothing to the wide open self and soul I have before me now.

You may well call it confusion. Such a jumble of emotion and need and lust and want. Such a conglomeration of feeling. Confusing? Probably. Only for never having had it. Delightful? Delicious? Love? Definitely.