The Velvet Edge Perfect Silence

In this world there is no one else, there is only you - my god, my master, my keeper. My own self falls away, I am devoid of a name, of an identity, of a person. I am transformed, I am elevated to pure energy, I become my true shadow-shape. You whisper into my ear and pour me into the mould of your desire. Sometimes I think I could disappear forever beyond the velvet edge of my meditation, sometimes I think I could fall and cascade into deeper levels of relinquishment. In the farthest realms of our play, I have found myself peering into that place, and blinded by the light of my adoration for you, I have stepped toward the edge. Sometimes it is you who pulls me back and sometimes it is I who wakes and flees the edge, but it is always like coming out of a trance, and, reunited with my body, I feel heavy.

Tonight you ask me for my voice. Unsheathing your penis from your pants, you tell me to put my mouth on it. I am on my knees as you stand over me. It is a blessing to receive you in my mouth and I am not ungrateful. I worship you, a priestess to her god, and after licking from beneath your testicles to the tip of your head, I close my lips around you, taking you deeply, filling myself with you. You fit as though we were made from the same stone and then broken apart. I press my tongue against your shaft. My motions are slow and deliberate, ritualistic, precise, and thorough. I dare not take a wrong step at your altar, I dare not shame my god that way.

You place a firm hand on the back of my head and tell me to pause, yet keep my mouth open. I obey, merely an orifice to receive you. You pull yourself out completely and then slowly reenter. As you continue into my throat, my instinct is to draw away, but your hand holds my head still. You tell me to put my hands behind my back and I fold my arms as you command. My lips are now pressed against your body, you have taken me completely. I resist the urge to gag, I struggle to breathe, but I am not permitted to move. Tears wet my eyes in discomfort and I begin to fall away, the darkness begins to envelope me in soft liberation. You tell me to look you in the eyes. I behold you.

"Your mouth is mine, your throat is mine, and your voice is mine," you say. "If you utter one sound, the consequences will be great."

You place your task upon me as you release my head and pull back, strings of saliva draping from my lips to your head. I gasp, catching my breath, but make no other noise. I have no voice. It is yours. To let any utterance creep from my throat would be defiance. And more than I fear your punishment or disappointment, I cannot bear to fail you, to fail myself, to disobey you. My adoration is great and I shall complete my worship.

"Do you understand?" you say.

I nod.

"I want you to look at me at all times, even if I am not looking at you."

I nod again, my gaze still locked with yours, my mouth still open, ready for you. You clasp my chin with your thumb on my tongue. "You are beautiful." I cannot help the smile that comes awkwardly to the corners of my lips around my open mouth. You stare deeply into my eyes, your own hard and searching. My throat tightens to form words of gratitude, but I refrain and you smile, reading my near mistake in my eyes. "Good girl."

Your approval delivers me. My ecstasy manifests itself between my bare legs.

You release my chin and tenderly push my mouth closed. You kneel down beside me, gathering my hair in one hand, exposing the back of my neck, which you firmly massage with your other hand, pressing your thumb and index finger down along either side of my vertebrae. The sensation sends chills down my spine, and I swallow the moan that rises from my depths. My breath quickens, shallows. I keep my eyes on your face as you examine my back. You move behind me, I can still see you out of the corner of my eye, and with both hands, you massage my shoulders with skilled pressure. I stretch my body out for you, pursing my lips against the sounds of pleasure in my throat. I know that you know my voice is one of my greatest sensual and primal indulgences. And I know that's why you have taken it now, to see if I can yield my pleasure to yours, to see if I can control myself as much as you can control me.

You move your hands down my back, firmly easing out the tension in my muscles, as if pressing air or liquid out from beneath some surface. Your touch is rapturous, it is the hand of a god admiring his creation, of a master admiring his slave, of a keeper admiring his possession. You tell me to spread my legs as your hands round my buttocks, caressing the supple flesh.

I am on tiptoes of desire, of a sexuality driven more and more wild by your slow, deliberate touch. I feel myself falling backwards with arms outstretched into an ocean of warm velvet water. The water fills in around me as I go under.

One hands creeps under my body to grasp my mound as the other yanks my hair. I grit my teeth, but no sound escapes me apart from my breath. With your middle finger you rub my clitoris circularly, igniting the heat between my legs, drawing the blood and moisture to my vagina. Everything falls to the pit of sex in my abdomen. I squirm, but remain desperately silent. Your index and ring finger peel apart my lips, as if exposing the flesh of some succulent fruit. I close my eyes tightly as I feel your middle finger release my clitoris, stroke the opening of my vagina, and then slowly - so agonizingly slowly - penetrate me.

I feel my whole self rise, arching in the water, electrified, and I quickly pull myself back down into a trembling silence before my voice breaks my lips, before the animal of my body betrays my mind's hold.

You withdraw your finger. You grab me around my breasts, pulling on one of my nipples as you place your finger to my lips. I can smell my sex, it is a hot sweet scent. You shove your finger past my lips and I taste myself. I suckle your finger, cleaning myself off of you. You now pull my other nipple, harder than the first. I buck slightly against you and I can feel your erection against my buttocks. You kiss the side of my neck, you bite my ear lobe.

You whisper, "Not a sound, not a single sound."

How could I forget? The growls, the whimpers, the moans force themselves against the backs of my teeth. I strangle myself with silence and the denial of my voice only makes me want to scream more.

You release me all together and tell me to position myself on my hands and knees at the edge of the bed. I do so and you immediately place your erection in my mouth as you undo your belt. I am reconnected with your eyes, which I stare widely into. I try not to look at the belt as you fold it in half, establishing a firm grip on it. I know what it is going to happen and I can feel my vagina throb with blood, my labia swelling at the mere thought of the exquisite lines of fire you are about to open on my skin. The anticipation is accompanied by an even greater terror at the cries that will threaten to destroy my perfect obedient silence.

The leather cracks across my back, and I swallow your penis to force the scream back into my stomach. You strike me again, and I gag, but make no sound. I release you long enough to fill my lungs with air, then take you again, just as another lash brightens my skin. I know you can see the struggle in my eyes, I know you can see the pain and the longing, and you return my gaze with only a stern regard. Again and again you hit me, and again and again I am grateful for your erection in my throat, corking the cries of pain, the cries of pleasure that flood it.

You drop the belt, grabbing my hair instead, and force yourself to the hilt in my mouth, your other hand cupping my neck. I squirm, choking, my eyes panicked. You let me go, you tell me to turn around, I do not hesitate to obey you. You force me down on my elbows, raising my rear for greater access. You strike my vulva with your hand. I suck in a breath, grabbing the sheets.

As I struggle to maintain my silence I begin to disengage from my body, to move farther and farther away from the jolts of electricity you send through me with each touch, be it gentle or violent. I sink deeper into a velvet tunnel which closes in around me as I submerge myself in it. After all - what is my body anymore? It is simply an organ, it reacts upon instinct, it is my mind that submits, it is my mind that wants this, it is my mind that transcends my flesh, it is my mind that empowers me through your careful manipulation.

You alternate between strikes and strokes and the sensations whirl into one intense pulse between my legs. I imagine the folds of my sex glistening with heated wetness, inflamed with desire and with pain.

And then, oh sweet sir, you take me. You give no warning, you give no precursor, you give no time for me to shore up my strength against the scream that rises from the very primal depths of my being. My submission, however, is greater, and my mind is more powerful, and I do not make a sound, not a single utterance. My body tenses around you. You tell me to release. My orgasm is immediate, shaking me, almost wresting a whimper from my lips, but I catch it, I swallow it, I grab the sheets more tightly. I have become full of light, I have become radiant, I have become perfect.

You stop and hurriedly tell me to roll onto my back as you climb onto the bed. I wordlessly do so, spreading my legs, preparing my altar for your blessing. You take me again, pressing my legs back to either side of my head, curling my body up to receive you better. You thrust into me deeply and mercilessly, and I am invigorated by the violence of your desire. We are two pieces fitted to one another, we are complete, we are as we were meant to be. My eyes are locked on yours, and I shrink at the intensity in them. Your face is creased with concentration, the sweat drips from your brow and falls onto my lips. I am too mesmerized by your eyes to notice. I am in a trance of silent submission.

I grip your arms, I want to connect to every part of me to you. I am alive with energy, I am alive with the energy you are transferring to me, and it passes between us, rising and falling, filling us both with light. I am absorbing you, I am receiving you. Every thrust falls deeper and deeper into me, touching the spot of life light inside. It blazes, consuming you, consuming us. I am ravenous to scream. The orgasm rises inside of me, drawing my muscles to a point. But I make no sound, and again I am falling falling falling into a place of suspended darkness, my body rising even as it sinks.

Caught between two greatly opposing desires, I withdraw. The light is so bright that I take a step back, perhaps to fall to the ground in total and complete adoration of my perfect god. I can no longer remember who I am or where I came from, only that I am here before you and that my knees are weak to yield to you. Suddenly I have no throat with which to make a sound, in fact, I have no body. I am drifting, I am untethered, the dark velvet waters are pulling me farther and farther out into an unknown sea.

You kiss my forehead as I falter at the edge. I come up gasping for air. You tell me what a good girl I have been, my heart soars, and then you tell me to scream.

I do. I scream your name, I scream my gratitude, and it is a delightfully violent return to my body. The orgasm rolls through me like an earthquake. You throw your head back to moan as you shudder through your own release.

A smile creeps across my face as we lock eyes again. You return the smirk. I know you could see me hovering at the edge only moments ago, I know you intentionally drove me to it, and I know you pulled me back just as I called you back from your own edge, a delicate tug-o-war.

In that way we are perfect.

You and I - we are perfect.