Yours

Here is some terribly written smut. I am participating in 750words so hopefully it will get better, as I intend to post most of it here.

I can almost feel your hands on my body, pressing me down hard against the bed, wrists twined together and secured above my head. My form stretched out beneath you trembling with barely repressed desire. I'm almost trembling now thinking about it, the ache between my legs sweet and throbbing, my breasts aching to be touched beneath the fabric of my bra. I'm almost tingling imagining your lips on my flesh, smooth and cool against my skin, causing fire to blossom in their wake.
     Would your hands be rough or smooth? I like to imagine that they would fall somewhere in between, smooth but for the callouses brushing rough over my flesh, another layer of sensation added to the haze that my mind would become under your ministrations. Perhaps your nails would scrape at my flesh as you ran your hands over me, undressing me and bringing me to ever higher reaches of pleasure.
    Would you remove my bra allowing my breasts to rest heavy in your hands or would you instead leave them confined, knowing how they strain against their bindings? I imagine my flesh would turn to goosebumps  as you undress me,  exposing me to the cool air a sharp contrast to the heat building underneath my skin. I want you to be rough with me, hips pressing against mine hands rough against my body, demanding, bruising, claiming. I want you to take me, to make me into something more than I had thought I could become, molding me to your will. I would whimper and beg in the end. Pleading with you to break me, shatter me into a million different pieces and then rebuild me in whatever image you so choose. But the journey there would be long, and the pleasure so much the sweeter for the agony that came before it.
    My body aching, would you torment me? Pinching and biting, leaving red marks on my pale flesh, knowing that they would over time darken, flaws standing in sharp contrast, reminding me to whom I belong. Or perhaps you would simply press me down over your knee caressing my ass, pinching and rubbing at it, lulling me into a false sense of security before striking. Bringing your hand, strong and firm against my ass, reddening it beneath your touch.
    How long would you continue to spank me? I like to imagine it would take time, that eventually you would have me weeping, begging for some form of release, confessing to an endless litany of sins, apologizing for whatever I may have done to displease you. And only then would you relent, soothing your hand over my ass once more before slipping a finger lower, sinking it into the moist heat between my legs. You would chuckle, I think, musing about how your pet gets so wet for you like the little bitch she is. You would finger fuck me for just a moment, until the first moan escaped my lips, before pulling the hand away and tossing me back onto my back on the bed. A hiss escaping my lips as my heated ass comes in contact with the sheets, cool and rough against the abused flesh. Your mouth on me, biting and scratching at my neck, my collar bone, my breasts. Until you reach my nipples, seizing one in your mouth and worrying it between your teeth, biting hard enough to make me gasp, arching up against you, begging without words for more. My hips pressing up against you, aching for more pressure, stimulation of any sort. Your hands would slip down my body grasping my hips and pressing them down, your knee working up between my thighs spreading them apart as you settle your body down between my legs.
    I imagine you would enter me smoothly, in one steady thrust, sinking into me and pausing a moment before moving. Your pace relentless, never giving me a chance to become accustomed to it you would press me deeper and deeper into the bed, mouth and nails abusing my skin. From there it grows a bit hazy details lost in a fog of pleasure and pain, mingling together until they rise ever higher in crescendo reaching a peak before sending me tumbling off the  edge. Boneless I would lay beneath you whimpering, until you move beside me, taking me in your arms, once rough fingers now soothing, lips pressing gentle against bruising flesh. I would be sore but oh so content waves of pleasure still rolling off my body as I cuddle deeper into your arms.
    No words need to be spoken and yet almost hesitantly I whisper "Thank you sir." and we both know.
        I am yours.