The room is dark, and you are far away. Too far.
It's only for a few nights, but that already feels like an eternity.
It is late, and the room is warm.
I toss the sheet aside, and lay naked on the bed, and I think of you, and miss your touch.
I feel my heart speed up a bit, when I imagine you looking at me, touching me, caressing me, holding me, and then, so much more.
At first, I learned what it felt like for you to take from me, and for me to have parts of myself stolen by such a masterful thief.
You stole my body, my mind, and finally, my heart.
I enjoyed the way you would take them, sometimes gently, sometimes not.
You taught me how to feel, how to please, and how to surrender, to your touch, your desires, your will.
You did it piece by piece, each and every part of me.
I let my hands caress my face, and think of your touch.
I press my fingertips to my eyelids, and run my fingers over them, thinking of the first time you took my sight.
A silk scarf tied gently over my eyes, how it made me tingle, how it made me afraid, how it made me reach out to you for safety, and how you led me into a new world of sensation.
Everything came alive for me in a new and different way, the conflict of wanting to see, and yet enjoying the helplessness of the darkness.
I fled back to being little, afraid of the dark, only to be shocked back into the moment by your touch.
I keep my eyes closed, remembering.
I touch my lips and think of your kiss, how gently and tenderly you can press your lips to mine, how they make me hunger for you, how I lose myself in the feeling, and how, when you pull away, it feels like you take a part of me with you.
My lips that kiss you, and please you, how I use them to kiss your neck, how I slowly place kisses along your chest, and then down your belly, until I reach your cock.
How I wrap my lips around your cock and fuck you, feeling you get hard in my mouth.
I pay attention to every little movement and sound you make.
I want my lips to seduce you and thrill you.
I want you to know they are yours.
I don't use them just to suck your cock, I use them to worship it, to worship you, to feed on your passion, desire, and arousal.
My lips can do so much, but you also know how powerful it is when you take them away from me, placing a gag in my mouth and strapping it tight, stealing my words from me, making me moan and muffling my pleas.
When you take my mouth away, my eyes become my voice, and when you take both away, it transports me to a place where all I can do is squirm and whimper.
Sometimes it is gentle, just a piece of tape over my lips and cheeks, other times something more, filling my mouth, truly silencing me.
I can tell what you want me to be just by how you gag me, sometimes it is loving, and others it is violent.
Sometimes it makes me feel loved and protected, and sometimes it makes me feel violated and used.
And I touch my neck, I think of your hand there, tracing gently over my throat, I squeeze a bit, like you do.
I feel every breath, I think of you holding me down, pinning my head against the bed.
I think of you tightening your grip, making each breath harder and harder to take in.
I think of you stealing my air, trusting you with my life.
When you place my collar around my neck and buckle it shut, it reminds me of your touch, your fingers, your grasp, a constant reminder, both of my vulnerability and the ease with which you exploited.
My breasts are tender and my nipples are hard now, I touch them and play with them, trying to imitate your touch and caress, but I know that I can't.
Your hands always surprise me, luring me in with tenderness and then transforming it into pain, playing with all the sensations you can create.
A dance of pleasure, pain, teasing and torment. Sometimes I feel like a goddess being worshipped, others like a common whore being manhandled for your amusement.
My breasts are your toys, gentle touches, flapping, clamps and clips, pinching and twisting, fingertips and fingernails.
My arms, when you steal them I am helpless, hands tied, cuffed, bound, arms tightly tied behind me.
When the rope is so tight, I feel my elbows touch, my shoulders stretch, my breasts pressing out obscenely.
Sometimes soft leather cuffs, sometimes the harsh cold steel of the metal handcuffs. Scarlet of a rope can be soft, or its bite can be cruel.
The leather arm-binder you slip over my limbs, buckling it on me and then tying the laces tight.
I know there is no hope of escape, I know I am yours until you choose to release me.
You are a master of stealing my arms, taking them from me in countless ways, making me feel so helpless and so exposed.
Nothing else feels like it. When I lose them, I transform.
I stop thinking and just feel. I stop trying and just wait, for whatever it is you want, need or desire.
My hands slide down now, past my pussy and to my legs, and I think of how you take them too.
Sometimes bound tightly together, but more often tied up and wide.
The tender flesh of my inner thigh open, vulnerable and exposed.
You touch me there and it sets off waves of tingles inside me, radiating from my belly down in between my legs, making my clit feel like it's vibrating.
And when you slap them and spank them, I can feel the red welts rising.
Memories of your touch, written in my skin in bright red stripes.
The pain isn't pain. It feels like an electric shock each time you hurt me and I feel it everywhere.
My belly, my nipples, my pussy and my chest.
Each time I gasp and inhale, and as I do, it fills me with life.
And when you spread my legs, I feel ashamed. Ashamed of my pussy and how much you make me.
Ashamed of my need.
Ashamed of how willing I have become to let you take each and every piece of me.
You are my thief, but I am your willing victim.
Now I touch my pussy, sliding my fingers in and out of myself, feeling my wetness grow.
I am longing for you to steal my vision and my words, to take my arms, to strip away my modesty and replace it with shame, to take away my pleasure and return pain.
I think of all the things you have taken from me, stolen from me and it makes my wetness grow.
As I press my thumb hard against my clit and grind into my hand, I think of the night you took my pussy.
I remember the night I was blindfolded and gagged, arms bound tight, legs splayed wide.
How you fucked me. How you took my pussy and made it impossible for me to want anyone else inside me.
That night you took that very last part of me, the part you had teased, touched and tormented.
The part you had let me keep for myself.
The part of me that was still just a part.
There was a time when you took these things from me and I loved every moment of it.
But when you put your cock inside me, bound, gagged and blindfolded and fucked me.
When you rammed your cock in my pussy and pressed down on top of me and let your cock fill me over and over.
When you finally pumped your hot cum inside me, filling me with it and then leaving me used, bound and helpless.
When you took that last part of me and made it yours. That was the night you stopped being a thief.
That was the night there were no more parts to take, nothing left for you to steal.
And that night my body, heart, mind and soul were all wrapped up together, each part no longer separate.
And now I am no longer in pieces, I have no more parts. For the first time in my life I am whole.
And now that I am whole, there is nothing left for you to steal.
There is only one thing left and you can't take it. It has to be given. It can only be given.
Because even after you have stolen away all of my parts, I still have one thing left to give.
All of me.