From the moment I saw her I wanted her. Some might call it lust at first sight, I call it determination. It was the smile. I can be quite superficial. Mind you that superficial Aphrodite was rewarded with an ass you can sit a drink on, titties you can nuzzle all day long and the prettiest toes I’ve had in my mouth for quite some time… but it was her smile.
That smile was mesmerizing. It beckoned me. It teased and invited me to inspect. It welcomed me like a grandmother waiting on her grands with the scent of fresh baked peanut butter cookies in the air. It sang to me like a Luther ballad and it wrapped around my soul.
The opposite of that smile is tears.
It would be months before I allowed myself the luxury of those tears.
From the moment I saw that smile, I also wanted to see – taste – and smell those tears.
If the smile captured my heart, it would be the tears that captured my loins.
I watched her dress that night. I throbbed silently in anticipation of her tears. I watched as she laid out her dress. Her shoes. Her bobbi socks. She was fresh out of the shower with glistening skin as she moved about the hotel room. I wanted to ravage her but first I wanted her tears.
When she came to me to lace her dress I feared she could smell my anticipation. Not my wetness even though it was there but the scent of aggression that I felt pumping in my veins.
I was coming down from my own high when I could wait no longer.
I stood there in the middle of the dungeon. She sat inches away from me. I walked up to her silently and took her hand. I love to talk to her her voice is a melody that curls my toes daily. This moment warranted no words. Our first dance. Our first audience. Our first meeting eye to eye – Mommy to girl – where pleasure and pain would swirl about us. I anticipated that it would carry us away to Oz in a twister. I planned to walk every inch of the yellow brick road with her that night.
I held her face in my hands as I stood her in front of the cross. I looked into her eyes. There was a smile on my face how could there not be? The smile never reached my eyes. My eyes saw acres of canvas. My eyes were purple with greed and lust. My girl showed no fear. The fear would come later.
I undressed her slowly. By memory if not sight the ties I’d pulled together minutes earlier came undone. I unbuckled her shoes and somehow resisted the urge to kiss her stocking feet. I dream of her skin at night. How she feels in my arms. How she smells first thing in the morning when I pull her closer to me. I am learning her body well. There are curves and dimples my hands must always touch. Always.
She was born to be in my arms. She was made to be at my mercy. She would understand that shortly.
The dance began as muscle memory for me. I touched almost all of the places I love the most. I kept reminding myself of the dungeon rules and cursed their existence. I traced the outline of her bra and panties. I ran my fingers along her extremities. The first slap was not planned.
My reaction to it was primal. There was no music – no spectators – just the sound of my hand on her flesh. That was the only sound in my ears. It was the only sound in my mind. It triggered within me the ability to do it again. Then again. Soon it was percussion Sheila E. would envy as the slaps turned to punches. The punches turned to bites. The bites stopped only long enough to lick or kiss her then the slapping returned.
I stopped only long enough to cover her nipples with tape. Fucking rules.
She asked me to not take her bra all the way off. I took care to place the straps back on her shoulders before the slaps rained down on her again. My beautiful girl who stood fast as Mommy rained down on her began to squirm. Her focus was breaking. Her zone was lost. Now we were finally getting somewhere.
It was a slap to the thigh that spun her around. I would still see my hand print there a day later. The fire in her eyes said she was at her limit. I knew there was more to be had. With a subtle shake of her head she looked up at me defiantly and said: “you hit like a girl”.
The face slap that followed was not hard. It was not hard enough to make her eyes water but it did buckle a knee slightly. I steadier her by grabbing her throat and shoving her against the cross.
She’d repeat those words only once more.
We were interrupted by an unexpected cramp – hers. In Mommy mode I took care of her. I dressed her and got her water and took her back to the room to care for my little girl. I massaged her. I cradled her. I got her food and held her until her pain went away.
Seeing my hand print on her thigh though never allowed me to forget our first dance and all that I’d planned next. As I cared for my little one, I lusted after the tears I saw forming in her eyes that never got the chance to drop.
Until then I will have to satisfy my thirst with fluids from other parts of her anatomy.
Aphrodite “Mommy” Brown