love always hurts

January 19, 2020

You said, “There’s still time – time to change your mind.”


Your voice was little more than a husky whisper beside my ear. But going back wasn’t an option for me then. What was to happen was fated…inevitable. Like the sunrise or sunset.

I said, “I love you.”

And you said, “Move forward…just a little more…little more. There. I’m going to hurt you now…Hurt you a lot, because I love you. And love always hurts.”

The pain that followed my slow movement against your long body was unlike anything I’d experienced before. Hell fire would touch me less.


And, yes, ecstasy too…

You said, “You can cry out if you wish. It’s alright. No one can hear.”

And then that exquisite, excruciating torment eased, slightly. I couldn’t breathe; couldn’t draw breath; but then I could and took short, shallow gulps of air. I realised my mouth was filled with blood where I’d bitten the right side of my cheek and my tongue.

You bent forward to look into my face and smiled. You saw the blood on my lips. Your tongue flicked over my mouth, lasciviously.

“First blood,” you whispered. “Relax for now. It’s going to be a long, long night for you…”


Pump and pump and grind

December 23, 2018

Straddle the beast you masterful bitch: thighs awash with your intimate potions, and your eyes reflecting flames from the fire. Hell fire. Pump and pump and grind on me. Tits bouncing wildly, drunk on disgust, you whore-child, you witch – such foul words in your mouth as you cum and cum again over me. Then wriggle, then wrench, pulling me free. One rough movement, practiced and sure, and prick enters arse-hole – ‘Cum now, you bastard,’ her cry, her demon voice. ‘Cum now, or I’ll rip it off!’ And ever obedient, I give off this earth-ending whimper, and shoot my load where no sun ever shines –

Hell Fire

March 27, 2018

Dance like time has no meaning
In closed eyed ecstasy
A hair flipping fantasy
Metronome neck,
Salacious shoulders,
Locomotive arms,
Seesaw hips,
Lovemaking legs,
Made dizzy by the drink of the devil
Stilettos glide along slippery tiled grids
Eyes cast open with a flame, burnt bright with lust
Memory has no place here, trust