"Did I become your nightmares?"
Cover image photo: Pedro Figueras from Pexels
I’m running from you, terrified.
“You get back here NOW, young lady!”
You’re not running. You’re rounding the corner at the top of the stairs, pursuing me at your leisure. You know I have nowhere to go.
I slam the bedroom door and back away, starting to cry. Shoving it open effortlessly, you saunter in to tower over me with smoldering eyes.
Trapped in the corner, I ball up and sink to the floor, eaten by fear, head in my hands. You’re gonna spank me. Whip my ass raw. You said so.
Boots... Come... My... Way…
“Baby,” you whisper.
I look up at you, sobbing in a panic. “I’m too scared. I don’t like this!”
Silence. You wait, regarding me steadily.
“Safeword.” Your eyebrows rise. “Say it.”
You come to crouch in front of me as I wrap my arms around my stomach, sipping in quick, shallow breaths and shaking my head. “I don’t want it like that right now.”
Your hand floats up to curl a stray lock of hair behind my ear. Gentle. Quiet. “That’s okay.”
Tears pour from my eyes and I don’t know what to say.
You don’t know what to say. You’re scared now too, nodding and searching my gaze. “That’s okay. Hey, come here.”
You carry me to bed and lay with me, kissing softly along my jaw, stroking my arm.
“Got too real, didn’t it?”
I nod, sniffling and staring at the ceiling. “I think I got lost.”
Propped on your elbow, you look down at me, seeking the bottom of the well of my soul with those dark, dusky eyes I love.
“Did I become your nightmares?” You rest your forehead against mine. “Hm? Some bad man who doesn’t love you?”
My eyes water and tears brim anew. “Maybe.”
You curl your fingers around the back of my neck and pull me into a slow, gentle kiss.
“I’m sorry, baby” you tell me, finding my eyes again. “Sometimes I think you like it like that.”
I weep and hate myself. “Sometimes I do.” Cracking to pieces, I cry harder. “I’m sorry. I’m crazy.”
You shake your head and smile. “No.” Soft like a sunrise, you kiss between my brows. “You’re you.”
A sleepy hour passes… maybe two. The demons dissolve from my mind.
I wake to your lips on the nape of my neck and your hard length pressing into my ass as you curl around me. I press back, wanting pain but feel sheepish even as I ask.
“Will you hurt me now, Daddy? Please.”
You nod behind me, cautious. “You sure?”
“Yeah.” I mumble, faltering. “I’m sorry... for earlier.”
Your long fingers cage over my leggings and dig into my ass cheek, nails sharp and acute. Masochism tingles to life in my brain.
“Don’t be sorry,” you murmur against my skin. “Daddy likes it when you tell him how you feel.”
As you peel down the fabric to bare my skin, your teeth sink slowly into the crook of my neck. I gasp, back arching, ready to receive you.
It’s light. You’re tentative, handling me with kid gloves.
“I want it harder, Daddy.”
You chuckle, nuzzling. “I know you do.” The nightstand drawer opens and shuts. “Turn onto your stomach.”
The hairbrush stings, but you take your time, luring me into tranquility. I bury my face in my pillow and ball the sheets in my grip, tighter and tighter as you go on spanking me.
“Ah- ah- oh- ow… oh… Papa...”
I swim in it, riding the bloom of that coveted, peaceful haze. My gasps lengthen and liquify into distended moans.
You stop and I feel your hand again, settling over the warmth you’ve created on my cheeks. Curious fingers tiptoe between my legs and you hum in approval, liking what you’ve found.
The shuffle of your pants lets me know what’s coming and I part my legs to invite you.
Circling my clit in silence, you make me wait, stoking desperation until I’m a storm.
“I want you inside me, please! Please, Papa!”
You chuckle again and tsk-tsk, lightly scolding my impatience. “Shh…”
My insides tighten and right as I fear I might come, the smooth head of your cock slips through my lips, prodding to stretch my entrance. Glacially slowly, you press inside, laying your claim.
Hot, corded muscle grips your length and you loop an arm beneath my chest, possessively trapping me against you. I close my eyes and focus on every degree of your virility snaking through my warmth. Reaching the limit, your cock nudges my cervix, making me wince.
My teeth nip at my pillow. God. You’re a squall of magic. A narcotic dream. What have I done to deserve you?
Deeper than deep, you fuck me with long, slow, deliberate thrusts. Your fingers creep under my hip and find that greedy bundle of nerves again. Drowning in the obscene swirl of pleasure hijacking my body, I nearly give way to delirium without your permission.
“Can… can I come, Daddy? I’m gonna come.”
“Yes, baby,” you whisper, expertly consistent in pace and pressure.
It all unravels at once like a rippling shroud of silk pooling at my feet and I’m naked. Liberated. Filled and overwhelmed and encapsulated by everything that is you. Somewhere far off, my voice pants through an odyssey of torturous euphoria.
Soon after, you speed up, pursuing me to deliverance. Squeezing hard enough rob me of air, you spill over the edge, jabbing inside with a rough, final grunt. Your hot spend pulsates and settles inside me, seeping through and catching in my tuft of tiny brown curls.
Together we shimmer, catching our breath, forged anew.
Later, resting my head on your chest, I watch your eyelids flutter while you dream. I worry it must exhaust you, playing hero and villain while you craft our adventures. You say it sates you. Brings color to your world.
I know you. You’re no nightmare. No stranger in the shadows. We’re spun from the same golden string of starlight burning in the darkness. Nothing could be more familiar.