Skip to content

The Lesson.

June 25, 2010

They court danger, those who seek to attract and hold my attentions long enough to be invited into my world. Yet they always want to come back for more. At the start there is the swaggering bravado, the enthusiastic self-confidence, the promise of things to come. Peacock’s fluttering their tails, garish and gaudy, displaying all to those who would look. They always promise so much but, sadly, deliver so little. All is trickery, and sleight of hand! an amusing dance choreographed to dazzle the unwary.

They mistake my smile, my laugh, my interest, for an opening, an opportunity to take. I am always amused by the subsequent change of attitude. When the crowds of friends and cover of sociability is gone, there is nowhere to hide but inside themselves, and that is where I seek them out. When they are still labouring under the illusion that they have been successful in their deception and that they are directing the show.

I am further amused at that point in proceedings when, having finally gained my strict unswerving attention, they realise they have been had. The point when eventually, they are made to fully understand the concept of ‘need’, the need to touch, to taste, fuck and suck. All come to ruin, mere fucktoys, acquired purely to amuse. Their release, pleaded for, repeatedly offered and then retracted. Every sense assaulted, insulted and assailed. ‘I am going to fuck you up!’.  I have plans for you.

‘But, this was not supposed to happen, It wasn’t supposed to go this way’.

I revel in the aftershock! The rattling bags of bones, worthy only of my pity. Victims of whichever form of gut wrenching climax I choose to allow. Delivered with a disinterested sigh. Some have even cried!, lost in a post coital reverie when they are no longer the object of my interest or my desire, and my kiss has finally been confiscated.
I care not.
‘You are dismissed’.

But then there was you. The only one able to pierce the armour. You knew me from the start. You looked and saw the numbness, the desperate quest for sensation, The wanton disregard for all things that seemed trivial. You recognised me behind the mask.

‘Mistress of puppets!, you just love to watch them dance, don’t you?’

Captured in a moment, my soul feeling bound. I writhed away from the prickling emotions
by now too unfamiliar for comfort.You lulled and soothed me, spoke of gentler things, offered me the time to come around,  sought to teach me the thing about love, as though you believed I had the capacity for it. Quiet hours, spent, though the thirst for you never seemed to be fully slaked. Your body demanded my lust, drove me to despair, enough was never enough.

‘Deeper, harder, faster, more….oh god please!… MORE!.’

That I could always deliver!. But, your soul demanded things I did not possess. Or rather, chose not to recognise.

I loved, and hated that you, in dark times, sought to show me beauty in the world, help me find peace when all was turmoil. I was pierced by spikes of terror at the prospect of finding what I thought I had always wanted, and of accepting what I knew you to be offering. Through the mists of denial I slowly came to understand that I had left you out there alone.

‘Teach me!, show me again!’

It would seem though, that I had already failed the final test.
Too little, too late.  I somehow missed the deadline.

The numbness has subsided, the unbearable need  has gained in intensity. Long concealed and denied, Love in its most hated form, now seethes and thrashes through my veins and I have come to ruin.

Now I understand. Now, I feel.

Here endeth the lesson.

From → Erotica

2 Comments
  1. Squeaky permalink

    Aw, fuck yeah! I LIKES it! 🙂 x

    • thanks for the comment! 🙂 always nice to know you have been able to please somebody xx 🙂

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: