My kind

Photo by Ava Sol

They say that Anne Sexton, a poet whose work I very much admire, has a small ritual during her readings: she deliberately doesn’t arrive on time, designed to keep the audience waiting, a collective anticipation of her presence.

They say she would often walk to the microphone with intent, a cigarette in hand, before saying: “I’m going to read a poem that tells you what kind of a poet I am, what kind of a woman I am…”

I dreamt of fucking you, you whisper to me in the heat of the afternoon. I came deep inside you. Over and over I took away your clothes, always naked around me. My breath catches in my throat, knowing exactly what it meant to visit you in your sleep—I must’ve dreamt of you a thousand times for a hundred days and a hundred nights and I woke up wet each time, woke up wanting each time, woke up delirious with desire each time.

I know what it means to have your body and to be taken by you even in spaces I can’t touch nor reach. I would swim from dream to dream trying to hold on to slivers of what seemed like memories: your mouth on my nipple, my tongue on the slit of your cock, your finger sliding in my ass.

This is the kind of woman I am: hungry, always hungry for you.

I dreamt I made you piss on my cock. I dreamt I bent you over the balcony and exploded inside you, my cum running down your thighs. I am on a call with my sister and I pressed my hand to my abdomen, immediately aching for you. I want you and I want to be fucked by you, always by you, Master. I want your hand in my hair and your teeth on my neck and your cock sliding deep inside me while I try not to moan, I want you rubbing against my clit, your clit, I always want you like this making me crazy with lust any time you want, without warning, because I am yours completely to do with as you please.

Yes, I am the kind of woman who will get fucked while I talked to someone else, wanting your spit in my mouth, hearing my siren call of I want you, I’m fucking you now. I am the kind of woman who wants to squirt on your cock and beg for more, who wants your precum on me, your sweat, your smell, your mark.

Please breed me, Master, please, I whimper, helpless against my wantonness. I always need your cum deep inside me, want you to mark me so thoroughly I will know no sphere nor domain without you in it. That’s the kind of woman you made out of me: needy, so very needy for your touch and your kisses and that cock that was made for this cunt alone—me, your dirty little slut, your filthy little bitch, your precious babygirl, your sub and property.

You’re my Daddy, my Dom, my Master, my owner. Always. I will always belong to you and no one else. When you’re whispering to me in the dark and holding me close while I try to fight my own demons, when you’re punching a wall in anger because someone I care about hurt me yet again and made me cry, when you’re undressing me and I try to cover myself in embarrassment about my body, when you’re licking my pussy and begging me to piss and cum all over your face, when you’re touching yourself before falling asleep thinking about filling my womb, when you’re asking me to put both clamps on my clit, when you want me to walk around with your cum inside me and with no panties on—I am yours, always yours.

You know everything that drives me crazy. You know what would make me a dripping mess, you know that my cunt is no longer mine and will only ever obey you. I dreamt of marking you, of making you wear a leash and a collar, making you kneel in front of me, forcing my cock down your throat, making you choke and gag. I want to slide my fist deep inside you so you’ll know your place—it is right here, with me, with my fingers in your mouth.

I pant and I tremble and I shake, opening myself for you when you ordered me to spank my clit, once, twice, five times. I fuck myself before you, as hard as I can for five seconds, ten seconds, fifteen seconds. Good girl, you whisper, good girl. Yes, I am your good girl, Daddy, I am the kind of good girl who will always want your praise and more kisses, always more kisses. I am the kind of good girl who craves your handprint on my ass and who will scream for more when you stop. I am the kind of good girl who will get wet at the thought of you fucking me in front of everyone, because you and I both know that what it really means is you declaring to the rest of the world that I belong to you: no one else can have me, and that’s the way it should be.

I’ll always fuck you like this, you say over and over. You’re mine and I own every inch of you. I’ll never stop saying it until your whole being knows it. I’ll mark your mind and your body. You will never be alone again.

I whisper back, over and over: yes yes yes yes yes yes.

“I have gone out, a possessed witch,” Anne Sexton writes in her poem. “…lonely thing…out of mind…I have been her kind.”

The woman I was before I met you is mostly gone. Her fragments live inside me still but I no longer feel that I am broken. Yes I have been her kind. But I am yours now, Daddy, at three in the afternoon or three in the morning. I am yours, all stretched out with your cock inside me, I am yours laughing with you over something funny that we can’t remember now. I am yours curled up beside you while you work some evenings when we seem to be playing catchup with the trappings of adult life, I am yours even when my heart aches over some leftover irrational pain from the past. I am yours dreaming with you as we talk about a better tomorrow and of growing together as the people we want to be. I am yours with your mouth sucking on my skin leaving a mark for strangers to see.

This is your true self, you tell me, while I moan and beg for your seed. Say how much you enjoy this. Say it all. This is what it means to be owned by me.

This is my kind, Master: kneeling, surrendering, and yielding before your eyes. Asking to be devoured. Wanting to be cherished. On edge, now and always.

I beg and beg and beg for something I cannot name, reaching out for you and beyond you for something I cannot grasp. I beg and beg and beg to be made yours. I never want to be alone again. When I say, Yes, Master, I am saying I need you. I am saying I love you completely and please hold me and never let me go. I am saying I will traverse every known universe just to be by your side, naked and collared. Owned.

T. xx

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