September 2, 2009


Posted in Uncategorized at 10:25 pm by littlesubmissions


His tongue stretched out as she pushed his face away with her hands, panting hard. “Not going to let you get me off that easy.” She kicked and pushed him around to face the other way, urgent, short jabbing motions, faster than telling. The pressure tried to fall away, but she grabbed ahold of it and sank with it, trying to drown herself in the hot, sweet pain filled sweat of lust and love. Her vision collapsed, he was all she saw, the world around them disappeared.

His movements were sore, tired and bruised. Shifting and trying to find where blood would flow back into his legs. The pressure in his head building, increasing with each of her words. Rising with each smack that washed through a muscle, each bite that sank unrelenting into skin until he moaned and whimpered just a little louder, a little longer than he had last time. A feeling behind his eyes that he tried to shove back down, to keep from controlling him. And then her hands on him again.

Nails scratching down his back. Rending skin, flesh piling under the white half moons, flaking and falling off as she dragged them in another direction. Movement and kinetic energy, slaps and punches where she had scratched, hurting the flesh some more. “When I get off, it’ll be jerking myself off on your back. Rubbing my clit on every one of these cuts until I come…” Her voice trailed off into hard gasps as she wrapped an arm around his chest and pushed in harder with the fingertips on her other hand, dragging them, plowing jagged rows of sacrifice into his body. She wasn’t sure if she’d forgotten his name, if he had become a thing to get her off yet. She pushed the question away, didn’t want to think about it, just wanted to keep pushing herself further down until she even forgot to ask the question.

He flinched away instinctively, then tried to force his body to hold still. The pressure building behind his eyes, a strange voice speaking in tongues to him, trying to overwhelm him. He tried to ignore it and remember how she had smiled at him earlier. Feeling his skin tear, wondering if it was sweat or blood running down his back now. The pressure rising as she stood up behind him and ground her crotch into his back.

“Just a taste, for me. Because I don’t think I’ve hurt you nearly enough yet to get me off yet.”

He rocked forward, and caught himself with his hands, his elbows almost buckling as she followed him down. His mouth clicked shut hard, his teeth biting down on his tongue, and he gasped. Everything else went away, for just a second.

A thin trail of saliva came out stretched down from his mouth, slowly, tinted pink from his blood, and moved lazily towards the carpet turning in an oval as his head rocked back and forth.

Have to clean that before it becomes a stain. He wondered who was thinking that. He wondered who was gasping behind him. Why he felt so lightheaded. Why there was nothing in his mind, when there had been so much before.

Then he felt the pain again, and couldn’t keep from saying it.

“Ah, fuck, no…”

The sound of his voice pushed her further, almost drove her gasping over the edge, until it sank in that it had sounded all wrong. The tone was all wrong, it sounded like, like he had sounded when he told her his mom had died… She looked down at him suddenly, and started to back away, then stopped. She made herself lean in close, carefully pet his hair.

You ok? Need a break? Safeword if you need to, it’s ok…”

“I’m sorry, it’s just this, this isn’t working for me anymore and it hasn’t for awhile and it hurts and I just.” He took a deep breath, and knew he would hate himself a little. “It just hurts, and I want it to stop.”


Copyright Jerry Jones. Unauthorized use is prohibited.


  1. Ehlana said,

    Wow that was so sad, made me cry! Are you okay? Maybe this one’s just a bit much for me! 🙂

    • littlesubmissions said,

      Thank you, but it’s not autobiographical. 🙂

  2. Ehlana said,

    Glad to hear it; powerful stuff.

  3. Ferns said,

    Oh V, how is it you are so spot-on every time…?

    I can picture what comes next, and it hurts my heart… His regret, his feeling of failure, her terrible guilt and concern… a cracking that they will curl up with together and pick apart and try to fix, each fearing that they really broke something.

    Sad and lovely.


    • littlesubmissions said,

      Well, I’m pretty sure the booze helps…



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