02.03.12. 10pm.

I thought about you when I came last night. And yesterday morning. I know you probably already assume this, but I wanted to tell you anyway. My memory of the last time we fucked is stuck like a needle in a record's groove. Snippets repeat over and over in a way that would feel stuck if I wanted it to stop.
You didn't leave me with bruises this time, so I had nothing to touch, nothing to press when I wanted to feel you. usually I can slide my fingers down my thigh until I feel where the skin broke, or until I wince to know I've found your marks (because they do belong to you).
Instead my fingers remained on my clit, swirling in rough circles. The fingers on my right hand slid down the edge of the bed until I could find something to grip, anything to hold onto. I usually find a sheet, letting my fingers tighten into the cotton. Last night felt desperate, though. I needed to feel you, I needed to cum thinking about you, bucking my hips into my hand, potent with memories of you. Last night, though, I needed some resistance in my hand and had to rely on the edge of the bed. I feared I would grab too tight - either destroy the sheet or it would slip and my nails would dig into the palm of my hand.
Both has happened before.
I remembered the way your cock slides inside me. I thought about how much I love when you fuck me from behind. I love being on me knees, letting them splay open, feeling you pound into me.
I could practically feel your belt coming down - feel myself suffering through it for you. It is always painful. Sometimes I'm startled at how much I want to suffer for you. I don't know how I bare it sometimes, but it will always be bared.
I meditated on how your fingers bury inside me, tearing at my flesh roughly. I love to coat them with my cum and then suck them clean for you.
I lick my lips when I think about your hand coming down over my face, over and over. Sometimes I want this more than anything else in the world - more than your cock, more than your cum. Feeling your hand strike me in a way which can only be described as intimate makes me feel owned, loved, wet.
My favorite is when you pull your fingers from me and your hand cloaked in cum rests on my hip while you fuck me.
I thought about the rice. The clothes hanger. I would think more about what was coming next if the idea didn't scare me...
I thought about how I would give anything to feel that swollen bottom lip of your on my cunt. What I would do for your tongue...
But what do I finally settle on? The meanest words you have ever said to me: Your punishment is my disappointment in you.
The words made me cry. They broke my heart. They made me beg. They broke me.
The words roll around in my mind as my fingers demand more from my clit. My fingers are rough and needy. They do not ask but require an orgasm to stop. I open my mouth, wanting to form words and beg in the silence of an empty room for you to fuck me harder.
Nothing comes out but air.
I pull my hand from the edge of the bed and bury two fingers inside myself, curling and twisting and fucking. I am needy and wanton. I moan in what is almost a growl.
I want to cum. I want to cum in my hands, on my own fingers. I want to scrape this orgasm from my cunt and my throat.
I repeat the words in my head, I hear your voice saying them so quietly. My punishment is your disappointment. I pound harder as they become mantra in my head. Over and over and over I say it to myself. If I cannot push a bruise, I can remember this shattering moment. My punishment.
I fuck myself harder, feeling my cunt pulsing, tighter and longer each time. I arch up and then back, writhing in the comfort of my bed. I begin to whimper.
My punishment is your disappointment.
I want desperately to cum. I am fucking myself so hard it hurts. My legs are so tight I'm concerned they may be stuck this way forever. The fingers on my clit have curled to where I am simply scraping my clit with my nails. I am going to ache tomorrow and have no good reason why.
I am so tight. Every muscle is begging for me to cum and I want a final push. Tears have begin to escape from my eyes and streak down over my skin. My cunt holds my fingers hostage with the muscles.
Your punishment is my disappointment in you.
I cum, not screaming but begging, crying out simply "please" over and over and over again. Please fuck me. Please destroy me. Please fuck me harder. Please make me hurt for you. Please let me suffer for you. Please make me cum for you. I cannot even rejoice in my orgasm, I can simply ask for more because not even this is mine.