Own Me

I want you to watch me from across the room, responding to other men flirting outrageously with me.

I want you to see the lust in their eyes, notice their hands fondling my waist and my hair, totally enveloping me with their hugs and pressing their lips against my cheek.

I want you to be excited by their interest… not jealous, but gratified by the knowledge of your ownership; completely secure because, even though you cannot claim me in public, you are the one who will be taking me home tonight.

Once there, I want you to leave your marks upon me. When I am back in my other life in the cold light of day, I will admire the red contusions on my alabaster skin and glory in the memories they evoke. The ferocity of your mouth, your teeth biting on the delicate flesh of my breasts and bottom, making me dizzy as you suck at me.

I want to sit on your face and have you devouring my innermost secrets, before slipping out from underneath and taking your possession from behind. My back against your chest as you grip my hips to control me and pull them back against you. And then, with one hand, pressing my neck forwards and up, forcing my face into the wall as you slide into me.

I want you to admire my back stretched out defenceless before you. The proud musculature of my shoulders, the definition of my slender waist as it curves softly into my glorious bottom. Your hands holding firm on my hip and neck as you pump harder and harder, relishing the thud each time my skull hits the paintwork.

I want to know that you think about those other men, imagine their envy and revel in your mastery.

I want to hear you hoarsely whispering: ‘You’re my fuckbitch… my thing… to do whatever I want with.’

‘My fuckthing.’

‘Mine!’ as you ride me, screaming, into oblivion, spraying your scent between my legs as surely as if you were marking your territory.

For, when we are together in that moment, you are my man and I belong to you.