In this moment, he’s on his knees forme. Willingly.
Because he loves me.
Eventually, I make him release me and I strip so we can prepare dinner together. Later, I tie him up and spend the better part of an hour using implements and my hands and teeth to mark him and make him cry.
To force him to let go.
He always feels better after a hard, cathartic cry. He spends most of his life so tightly bound in emotional and mental ways that only when he’s with me he can finally let go.
I’m happy to help him with that.
Pain tolerance is also an issue. He has an incredibly high pain tolerance, meaning he loves it when the darkest side of my sadist comes out to play. In fact, he prefers that. He usually doesn’t want light and fluffy and romantic until our time together is almost up at the end of the weekend.
Sometimes, I wonder what it’d be like to be with him all the time, so he doesn’t get so bad.
To be able to have that sweet, playful time with him as the norm, not the exception.
Right now, I’ve flipped him onto his back and tied his hands over his head. His legs, which I’d tied together before, are now free so I have full access to him.
I shove his thighs apart and kneel between them. His cock softened a little while I was torturing him but he’s hard again now and dripping pre-cum all over himself.
Smiling down at him, I rub my thumbs over his nipples and note the waves of gooseflesh that roll across his skin. My pet is predictable in all the best ways. I love that I can quickly drill deeply into his brain to give him what he needs. When I roll his nipples between my fingers, he shivers, biting on his lower lip to stay quiet.
Meanwhile, between us, his cock’s twitching even more.
Tonight I’ll use condoms but tomorrow he’ll clean out and I’ll breed my pet. We always do that at least once on a weekend like this. He likes feeling completely owned, and it’s not like either one of us are sleeping with others.
Not that he hasn’t made the offer more than once, for me to date others, if I want.
I don’t take him up on it.
I…can’t.
Would I like to have a poly triad? Sure, it’s a great fantasy but I already have a great guy. I sincerely doubt I’m going to meet someone else who can make me feel the way I feel about Elliot. It’s a damned high bar. We’ve been through on-again, off-again phases where he’s insisted I should go date others.
I wait him out. Always. Because I know he might not realize it but it’s his version of a loyalty test. There is no “winner,” either. He feels guilty that I wait for him, and he feels guilty that he isn’t with me all the time.
And yet I still wait.
Elliot’s gaze grows hungry as he watches me roll a condom onto my cock and I lube both of us. I’ve been especially mean to him, not letting him have permission to masturbate during our latest separation.
Partly because I keep hoping it might one day make him decide to ask me to be with him full-time.
And partly because I’m a sadistic asshole and want him feeling needy by the time he returns to me.
Of course he’s my good boy—I have no doubts about his obedience. If I doubted him, I shouldn’t be with him.
This is the moment I always savor and refuse to rush. He’s tight and warm and as I slide into him, I watch his eyes widen before his gaze goes soft and sweetly undone.
He’s all mine.
And I love him.
Once I’m fully buried inside him, I lean in and kiss him. This is something I take my time with, because there will be plenty of opportunities this weekend to fuck his brains out and pound him into a puddle of goo.
Ineed this.Ineed this tender moment with him, to reconnect with him.
Giving him my darkest parts isn’t a hardship. Still, I need a little in return to feedmysoul.
