"Get you clothes off." A throaty whisper, no louder than it ever needs to be.
She wants to be desirable, needs to be. In yielding she becomes so. Fingers dance along clasps and zippers. There is the sound of cloth departing skin to lie discarded on the floor. She kneels naked. Legs parted, hands on thighs, chin higher than it should be. Her breath ragged, eyes daring to look up. The emotional wreckage is too much, it clutters everyday thinking. She wants to be desirable but conflicting feelings have piled too high.
Moving behind her she is blindfolded in abruptly. Those defiant eyes put in their place. Her chest swells as she draws in a long slow breath. She can feel my eyes consuming every part of her. Circling like a shark I drink her in reminding myself of the feel of every sensual curve. Imagining phantom hands crawling across her skin. Skin awash in a tide of goose bumps.
There is no masking the sound of bed coils as I sit just in front of her. She could lean down and kiss a foot, or lay her head on clothed thighs. She can feel me sitting there, staring at her. Knowing I am still clothed. Looking down at her bared and exposed. She wriggles a little in discomfort, or something else. The awkward pause becoming pregnant then crypt like. She wants motion, deep down somewhere I want it too. Hyde enjoys the discomfort, waiting patiently to see if she'll continue desperately trying to please, or to break the reverie with her voice. She's too good a girl.
Reaching down I take a hand and pull her towards me. There are the awkward moments, where she is trying to obey by reading my mind, unsure how I want her to use her body. I tug on her, pulling her up and into my lap. Sitting astride thighs, her bare skin teased by my clothing. Breath still ragged, flushing skin, so close. I want to kiss it but Hyde restrains me. There's work that needs to be done first. My hands run along her smooth skin, all of it mine. Leaning just so close to her ghosts of lips brush skin, not enough for a kiss, but a wisp of breath across her chest. Inhaling deeply at her neck and pits. Feeling her stiffen, hating how gross that is. A low chuckle from me, a hairbreadth over bare arms.
She leans in trying to force my lips to her flesh. She instead gets a playful swat. "Stay still while I admire my plaything." In the suffocating room it doesn't have to be any more than a murmur. She breathes out heavily, as if that request is near impossible. The heat of her crotch like a bonfire in my lap. She's burning with desire. All the defiance forgotten. Not by me though, not by Hyde.
"Susan, you've been a bad girl." My hot breath on her ear, the touch of stubble along one cheek. There's no answer other than a swallow. She knows what's coming and she doesn't like it.
"I want a confession. Every bad thought, every wronged feeling, every petty grievance. I want them now. All of them. Tell me and they'll all go away."
Now the part she hates. The part that makes her feel small, spiteful, hateful, little. And she starts telling me. All of it. No feelings spared. Nothing held back (that I'd know about). It comes pouring out. At first this was so difficult that I had to cajole, reassure, pull teeth. Now she knows how the game is played. Any ill feelings she's harbored come spilling out while I remain silent, impassive, distant. I lean back, can't have her drawing any comfort while doing this. It's meant to be difficult, a test of sorts. There are accusations and misunderstanding. The impulse to defend myself is strong, but this isn't about me. I listen to it all, wordlessly.
When she's done her shoulder slump. As if embarrassed. Maybe wishing she hadn't said so much, could take some of it back. It all hangs there. She squirms wanting contact. Wanting the emotions to go away and be validated at the same time. A tattered web of ugly misunderstandings and deep dark needs.
"Good girl." Pulling her into me I crush her in an embrace. I accept all of it. Have heard her at her very worst and still want and desire her. Force her face into a shoulder by a fistful of hair. Naked against my clothed body I want to take her, show her that its more than just words. I desire her in ways stronger than any vanilla relationship I've ever had. My chest constricting with need for her. But Hyde's not done with her just yet. She has to atone.
Turning her, pulling her, I guide her down across my lap. Hands can now roam flesh, they glide up and down thighs, stopping to squeeze owned skin. She knows what comes next and tenses. I kneed her body made mine. A moment of guilty pleasure in an effort to relax, to make the sting less so. It's futile of course, Hyde will extract exactly as much as she wants to offer, which is more than she would ever willingly say.
We spank her. Hyde is my horseman driving the ride. Loud cracks fill the room as my palm strikes soft ass. She makes no sounds at first. Just squirms, although I can never tell if from pain or the heat radiating from her. When my hand sings I pause, running it along crimson cheeks. The arm across her back keeps her pinned down as we begin again. Slaps soon joined with gasps and quick yelps. We pause again. Lurid thoughts as I run fingers over her burning skin. Ragged breath coming from her. With all the hurtful things said we're a still a ways from being done.
With the next round I can feel her shuddering, tensing up after each slap. She's at that place where she'd say enough if given the choice. I don't give her that option. "Can you do more for me?" She nods. "You were so bad we need just a few more." She nods. "You deserve more don't you?" She nods. "You want to do a few more to please me don't you?" She nods. Crying she keeps going. This is her atone phase. Where she wants more than anything to stop. But she can't because I'm there asking for just one more. Pushing her. Putting her in the deep, dark, warm place where everything shrinks down to a single point of pain across her ass.
Confession over, I yank off the blindfold and pull her to me, a long deep passionate kiss, and many more her reward for having taken this journey. Cleansed now, her soul and emotional state sparkly clean we'll make love. And in the afterglow I'll stroke her back down to earth, reminding the whole time what a good girl she is. How she enflames desire by cultivating her desirability. Yielding herself to make me want her even more. A very good girl indeed.