He Leaves Marks

He leaves his name on my skin with his teeth. He pushes my hair aside and sinks his teeth into my neck – where it meets the shoulder – then he bites into my flesh, moans matching my moans as he leaves his mark on my skin, and under it into my tendons and other connective tissues. And as he bites harder – pushing the pleasure against the pain, I lean into him, giving myself over to him as he puts his mark on me.

He leaves his laughter as fingerprints on my ribs. As I laugh, he joins in and finds those spots that make me squirm with delight – with giggles and with cusses as he brings the laughter inside me out of my body to join his laughter. And he pushes my laughter against that pain as his fingers dig into my ribs a little more – making me laugh that much harder as they leave his mark on me.

I feel his teasing on my nipples. His mouth encircles the left one – as he likes – then suckles gently – pulling it deeper into his mouth – increasing my moans – making my hips arch up instinctually as my cunt gushes for him. He sucks – he bites – and he pulls me further into that spiral of desire. Then he bites hard – pulls my nipple with his teeth – pushing the passion against the pain in a way that only results in my thighs getting slicker with my fluid. He teases those marks into my nipples – first one and then the other until they remember his presence even when gone.

He shows his passion on my ass. With each stroke of the paddle – with the cane – he makes me dance for him. He makes me dance and moan and scream as he leaves his marks on my ass and thighs. He makes me hold still and take him as he pushes me. His hand is sometimes on my neck – in my hair – he shows me how I can take it – how I can take more. He shows me how pain can become pleasure – how it never reaches a final state but ebbs and flows like happens with pleasure and pain dealt like this. And I stretch out before him – I moan – I dance – I spread my legs wide – I breath – I laugh and I swear at the paddles and canes as he gives me what I want, what I need – what he needs. And he leaves those marks on my flesh as reminders.

He leaves his love – a hidden mark – with my body. With each act of sadism, love, kindness, or compassion, the mark is left – on my heart – on my soul. Until I feel it when he isn’t there. Until I smile without thinking because I feel it within me. Until I push aside the crappy parts of my day, and let those feelings radiate through me – reminding me I am cherished and loved.

And while those other marks – the external ones – fade, the ones inside hold strong, if not grow stronger with time. Those are the marks of his that I truly love.


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