Personal Truth [Gentle NonCon]

“You’re so stressed.” I gently brushed the hair from her face and cupped her cheek in my hand.

“You get so caught up in worrying if you’re good enough, smart enough, talented enough. You let yourself get overwhelmed with all the parts of life that don’t really matter.

“Who cares if your boss really likes you? Who cares if your parents respect your life choices? Who cares if the other women in the office respect you?

“None of that really matters. What matters is who you are, deep down inside. Your heart. The very core of who you are. Accepting and loving yourself for who you are is what matters.

“But you worry and stress over being something for other people. You make yourself sick trying to be successful, accomplished, worthy. Rather than embracing the beauty of who you are, you wear yourself out uselessly struggling over things that aren’t worth the energy it takes to fight.”

I held her chin between my finger and thumb and gently lifted her face. I wanted her to look me in the eye. I wanted her to see the sincerity in my face, to believe the truth in my words.

I gave her sad, compassionate smile, “Even now, here, in this moment. You keep pulling at the ropes, like if you could just fight hard enough you could get yourself free.

“But you’re just stressing yourself out. You know how pointless it is to fight. You know my knots are strong. It’s only been a few months since you left me, but it’s like you’ve already forgotten everything I’ve taught you.

“It’s why I had to come for you again. It’s why I had to drag you back home. I didn’t want to hurt you, I don’t want to hurt you now. I just saw how miserable you are trying to be something you’re not. It hurt my heart.”

I started slowly unbuttoning her shirt. She kept trying to twist away from me and it took several minutes to get the last button undone, but I was patient. I slid the shirt down her shoulders, caressing her smooth skin as I went. I knew I couldn’t get her shirt past her wrists, tied behind her back as they were. So, I let her shirt bunch up around her elbows, which had the convenient side effect of forcing her to roll her shoulders backward, making her push her beautiful breasts out – like she was begging for my attention.

I had a little less patience with her bra. There was no easy way to remove it in the position she was in. So I slipped a finger behind the little strap between the cups and jerked. The material snapped with a satisfying little pop and I let her bra dangle by her sides.

I held her face in my hands and whispered, “Shhh, don’t cry. This is a good thing. I’m doing this for you.”

I slid my fingers down her cheeks, over her throat, her chest, and started massaging her breasts. “I mean, look at this body. This isn’t a body for filing reports or processing spreadsheets … or whatever the hell it is you do there.

“This is a body to be enjoyed. To be explored. To take and receive pleasure.”

I started kissing her neck, still talking to her as I let my lips brush against her skin.

“I admit I’ve been watching you. It didn’t take me very long to find you after you left. I’ve watched. I’ve see. How unhappy you are.”

I kissed down to her collar bone, over her shoulder, and down to her breast, mumbling to her between kisses.

“You don’t need all that shit out there.”
“You need to be here with me.”
“Your body is wasted out there.”
“God, I’ve missed the taste of your skin.”
“I know what you need.”
“I’m going to take care of you.”
“I’m going to help you remember.”

She let out an involuntary moan as my lips brushed against her nipple. “See?” I asked. “I know how to take care of you. Isn’t this better than trying to be something you’re not?”

I flicked my tongue over her nipple before filling my mouth with her breast. I know how she likes it. And I’ve spent so many hours imagining having the opportunity to give it to her again.

I sat up and looked her in the eye again. “You shouldn’t be embarrassed about what you are. You should embrace it. Just give in. You’ll be so much happier that way.”

I put my hand in the center of her chest and gently, but firmly, pushed her down flat on the bed. She didn’t even fight me. She knew it was pointless to resist.

I let my hands slide up and down her body, feeling the smooth skin of her stomach and breasts. I longed desperately to jump her. Take her. Use her to give myself relief. And punish her for daring to leave me.

But it wasn’t the time for that kind of lesson. She needed to be reminded of what she was. She needed to be shown, once again, how complete she felt when she accepted it. She needed to be convinced that this was what she’d desperately wanted, even if she’d worked so hard to convince herself otherwise.

So I was slow. Gentle. Insistent. When I groped her breast I didn’t dig my fingers in. I massaged them. Cupped them. When I pinched her nipples between my fingers, I didn’t pull or twist. I rolled them gently between my fingers. I didn’t hurt her. I just teased her with the idea of pain.

Then ever so slowly I unbuttoned her pants. I pulled down her zipper with focused intentionality, like I was unwrapping a present wrapped in paper so beautiful I didn’t want to tear it as I opened my gift.

I continued massaging her breast with one hand as I slid the other into her pants, over her underwear, and between her legs. Heat radiated from her pussy, even through her panties. Her body responded to me as it always had. I slid my fingers up and down, over her panties, caressing her pussy, paying careful affection to the most important part of her.

“It’s ok that this is who you are. I know you feel embarrassed by it sometimes. You think you should accomplish something – or rather you think you should want to accomplish something.

“But you completely ignore what you do accomplish. You turn me on. You give me pleasure. That IS your purpose. And you accomplish it perfectly.

“I know you miss it. I know you crave it. I’ve seen it in you. I’ve watched, through your window, as you relive it every night.

“I’ve watched as you crawl into bed and finally give in to the urge – the urge to be who you’re truly meant to be. I watch as you touch yourself. I see you close your eyes and imagine yourself giving up all pretense and allowing your desperation to consume you.

“You fight it all day long. You dress appropriately, act professionally. You present yourself to the world as a strong woman bent on achieving her goals. But when you come home you crash and finally allow yourself to dream of being your true self – a toy. A play thing. An object of sensation and pleasure.”

I continued to tease her pussy through her underwear and massage her breasts, and I leaned down to suck her nipple into my mouth. I could tell she was trying to resist it, but the tiniest moan escaped her lips.

I circled tongue around her nipple, pushed her panties to the side and slid my finger between her pussy lips. I didn’t push my finger inside her, instead I slid my finger up and down between her lips, letting my knuckle graze against her clit.

“This is who you are,” I mumbled around her breast. “This is what you are meant to be. And that is ok. It’s a good thing. It’s your personal truth.”

I kissed my way back up her body, her neck, and let my lips brush against her ear as I continued whispering to her.

“You’re my play thing. My personal slut. Your purpose is to take my dick. It’s what you’re best at and what makes you feel the most complete.

“You shouldn’t be ashamed of that. With a body like this it would be a waste for you to be anything else. It’s written all over your face. The need to be a fuck toy. The desperation to be fucked. This is who you are.”

I pushed myself off her and shimmied down to her waist. I slipped my fingers into her panties and slowly started pulling them down, taking her pants off in the same motion. I was pretty focused on enjoying the sight, but I’m pretty sure she lifted her hips just a little to help me tug her clothes off.

I climbed off the bed and took off my own clothes. “Excited” doesn’t begin to describe how I felt in the moment. My body was literally aching for hers.

“You see what you do to me?” I asked. “This is what you’re best at.”

She did struggle a little bit when I tried to position myself between her legs. But she didn’t put up much of a fight and I was able to easily spread her legs with my knees. I slid the tip of my dick between her pussy lips, teasing myself with her softness.

I positioned myself right, ready to finally enter her, but I didn’t thrust. I leaned over and wrapped my arms around her head. I laid my cheek against hers and slowly started to push into her.

As her body slowly stretched to accept me I whispered in her ear, “Welcome home.”

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/yj75f4/personal_truth_gentle_noncon