Cogito Ergo Femme Interruptus

[femmeInterrupted]

i am

bent over as she fucks me from behind.
She fucks me until the slut comes out to play, and that simple thought alone makes me ache and swell.
i am so full, i hurt, i drip.

Her cock is riding high up into me, slamming up to my womb.
She is at the end of me. i moan and howl.
She likes to hear these sounds, and i am instinctively grateful for that.
i would have to be gagged to muffle the music that she orchestrates from me.
i howl because i cannot contain these delicious sensations within me.
i moan because i must offer these sounds out into the room, to the goddess, to the universe.
They are too precious to keep selfishly inside me.
i am not really cumming, what i feel is so much more unrefined than orgasm, so animalistic, it's raw.

i am her dirty grrl.
i am .

my arms are stretched out in front of me, wrists bound in restraints, and i simultaneously resist and offer myself to their comfort and control.
my mouth becomes an instrument of sexual music.
i sing, i sob, i groan…
fuck me fuck me fuck me…
i cannot keep from singing this mantra., the words are the sound of carnality.
Desire. Craving.
i no longer hear them, i simply feel them.

i am
bathed in the slick sweetness of my sweat, my body is basting with addicting flavours.
Sweat and pheromones that basely signals to her that i am fuckable, that i am deliciously open, wet, wanting.
i am ripe and present and eager for her fuck.
my body centers in on itself with this desire, until i am only my cunt.
It is hungry, so hungry and this need is so good.
This need is what makes me crave the fuck again and again.

i am orborous.
The serpent swallowing the serpent, craving that perpetuates its own need, hunger that feeds itself only to want again; it creates a constant steady yearning.
She is responsible for this. She brings this out, hones it.
A master at her craft, and
i am
Her labour of love.

i feel drifty, afloat in this fuck and i feel her behind me, her cock in me and the base of the leather harness slapping against my asshole, teasing it, making it as hungry as my cunt.
My emotions are completely unchecked, impossibly needy, the urge to grind so strong.
She is grabbing my ass with splayed fingers, digging her blunt fingernails into my flesh; deeper and she is pushing her cock, deeper.

It's not enough.
It's never enough.
This is the point where my hunger is greater than anything in my universe.
A low melodious tone resounds inside my head, i am humming with this hunger. All of me wants more. i'm not cumming.
No, hardly!
i am fucking and i'm getting fucked enviably.
She pulls me back into focus and awareness by tugging at the collar that is attached around my neck.
It is surely the Sadist in her that causes her to stop now.

She can read my body like a mariner reads the skies, and she slows down, i hear her growl, and i become desperate.
i whisper "Please, please"
At the verge of tears, almost crying, not from sadness or sorrow, but from sheer reaction: shock at the depth of this need. In this place where i submit to her, where she owns all of me
i am a hungry baby grrl, demanding, and unrequited with hunger.
i am a living cunt who needs to be fucked.

Fucked hard. Fucked Good. She tells me "Wait. you don't have permission to cum yet". i can taste the tears collecting at the back of my throat.
They mix with the wanton palate of my hunger.

The tremors begin; spasms that possess my thighs and i start to shake. Trembling, i groan and push my ass high into the air, backing up, scooting as much as the restraints allow on crumpled sheets.
My cunt searches for her cock, and i feel it stab at my bottom, i turn my head into the pillows and moan, biting and trying to consume as i want and need to be consumed.

More more moremoremore more.

An eternity of rebirths in this serpentine desire.
my cunt is pounding, throbbing.
Her hands are under my hips, sliding over my soft pussy, lower to tease and feel how wet i am.
This is her applause.
i concentrate on not cumming. She is making it hard with her perfect touch. The tempo increases and i am so close.
She stops again.
One more flick, of her beautiful finger and i would be undone.

i begin to cry out and beg her. i am too needy for the cock, too needy for her. This is part of the dance, i know.
i give myself and the endless expanse of energy one preamble before i am swept away into the core of this deliquescence.
Please, let me feel this hunger always, let me have these cravings, this desire, this decadence: let me always be desperate with the need to fuck, to want, to yearn.
To be taken and consumed mercilessly.

i am enslaved to this.
Fated,
liberated,
i am.

i rear back and i feel her fingers on the cheeks of my ass again, stretching pulling, prying. Her cock in my cunt, rocking, slowly.
Teasing again, building desire like a house of cards.
i will surely crumble.
Then: wetness and the head of her cock in my ass.
She is perfectly still and i am so open, so yearning for her cock to fuck my ass. She has taught me this voracious appetite.
i pull at the restraints and in this hunger, i realize, not for the first time, the deliciousness and depth of the control she exerts over me.

She is taunting me, asking me "baby what do you want? What do you want?" my body quivers like an oboe taught with the symphony of this lust.
i cry out as i feel the stinging slap of her displeasure on my bottom.
She has asked me something…but my mind can barely focus.
"Answer me, little grrl…tell me whose ass this is and what it wants"
Unbearable. my response is like chanted prayer.

Yours. Yours. Yours. Yours.

i am
Begging now.

In this miasma of desire, i feel both shame and pride for wanting her, for wanting her cock, for wanting her so badly, for wanting it so much.
She holds me still because my hips want to dance to the rhythms of this ambrosial debauchery.
Her butch’s cock slams into me with such force i see white light.
She is murmuring words of praise and adoration through this gracious debasement.
Her hand reaches around to my soaking pussy.
my clit jumps as her fingers play over it and i moan softly, as she moves in me. i instinctively know she will come against my ass.
Her own hunger is always equal to mine, and she will satisfy her own lust by taking my bottom.
She is watching this valiant debauchery; Her large cock as she moves it, in and out of my ass, and i feel deliverance building in her strokes.

Emancipation from the shackles of this wretched hunger.
Fuck me. Use me. i am Yours.
i am.

[femmeInterrupted]

Flash Fiction

She had been travelling with the Creature for 118 days.

Her sense of absurdity was ripe and eclipsed only by her startle response. Despite suffering from a raging case of PTSD, she entertained herself with idioms made ridiculous in these bizarre times. Like “Zombies of a feather flock together” or “ Never look a gift Zombie in the mouth”. Her travelling companion was another problem. She understood that the Vampire was helping her like a cattle farmer might ‘help’ cows back from pasture and into the abattoir.

She’d sometimes glance sideways at the Vampire sitting in the captain’s chair and think ‘Odd to be interacting with a creature that see’s me as simply a step above poultry on the food chain’.

Now she existed in the hollow steel bowels of a Winnebago. Once she would have refused on moral grounds; road trips supported the burning of fossil fuels and were bad for the environment. Turns out, there was something way worse than emissions lurking around sharp corners of the future.

The Vampire clichéd the sunniest of days away locked in the coffin like upper bunk of the RV. Often while alone in the solitude offered by sunshine she’d fall back into the “This Ain’t Happening” game she tortured herself with.

“This can’t be happening…. I’m a kindergarten teacher!”
“This can’t be happening! Why did no one ever describe how Vampires smell?”

Vampire’s smell wet. Like the sodden earth of wine soaked bodega and cellar floors. Vampires carry top notes of rot, sweet undercurrents of tainted meat and decayed fruit. When the first olfactory assault is over, a second battery is volleyed as they exuded ambered middle notes: a sickly saccharine animalic perfume of ambergris and fecal odor.
Once desperate to escape the cloying stink of her travel companion, she had it use hand sanitizer. Then it smelled like a dead martini.
She had learnt to control her gag reflexes.

Vampires were self-serving, which apparently, in Vampire culture is perfectly O.K. The undead didn’t rise to the occasion until almost too late. Turns out, on that whole food chain deal, Vampires can’t suck the blood of the violent animated dead.
Imagine that.
So humans became to Vampires what clubbing baby seals, saving the Iberian Lynx of Europe or the Big Pocket Gopher were for humans before.
They became humanitarian activists.

Zombies weren’t really “zombies” in the full grindhouse understanding of things. Vampires couldn’t feed on them, something her malodorous companion explained to was because of whatever ‘it was’ that ran virally rampant and viciously through their raging bodies. Then add that Zombies couldn’t stop gorging on us, the ‘flock’.

There was a lot of hunger in the world now. And not the kind of hunger that some Feed the World type musicians could rally around and fix with a jingle that tugs at the heart an guilt strings of the psyche. Aid organizations like UNICEF and OXFAM had literally been devoured into oblivion as the plague swept the planet. Humanities next best hope was now the blood sucking undead, which now roamed around like pale nocturnal Green Peace agents, collecting and saving the last vestiges of civilization.

Problem was, they were really saving humanity for dinner.