A boyfriend once wrote a poem about me. All I can remember is the line “She falls in love like she’s running through a dark forest.” I didn’t understand what that meant. He said, “Blindly. You fall in love blindly, fearlessly, recklessly.”
He was right. Years later I ran faster and deeper into the woods than I ever had before. And we collided.
Today is my birthday. Another first without Him. It’s been a few days shy of seven months. I am awake at 2:38am. In the deepest part of the night, the witching hour comes for me. Relentlessly. From the moment of impact to the call telling me there had been an accident, for seven months the witching hour haunts me.
Before bed I cuff my wrists. I pull the sheets back, running my hands down my calves and wrap the familiar cuffs around my ankles. They feel like a caress. My Sir holding me firmly. I clip my nipples, though not with the clovers, I have lost the ability to tolerate those. I haven’t been used in many months. The sharp bite of the clips creates the wetness needed for my plugs. First my ass after being dipped in my own juices. My pussy is next and I push the plug in with a merciless force. I want it to hurt. I need it to.
My body is humming. I search for the peace in being cuffed, clipped, and spread. If I can only find that balance where the pain, and with it pleasure, overtakes my thoughts. Where the physical drowns out the mental.
Even in my feeble attempts, the security I desperately seek evades me. I cannot recreate what my entire being needs; the touch of His hand stroking my hair. Hearing His voice softly telling me I am His good girl. Having His scent covering me, and the taste of Him on my bruised and swollen lips. My body laying before Him, well used and exhausted.
Tonight, after I complete my bedtime ritual, maybe I’ll close my eyes and hear His “Go to sleep beautiful girl, you’re doing well”.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/w4d03b/go_to_sleep_beautiful_girl