Tag Archives: Submissive

Poetry from the Torture of Loving a Narcissist

These are from my,
Poetry Collections
The Worst of It

The worst of it was his disbelief in my love
In how I truly felt about him
The conflagration of him; the intensity of my desire to be his.
How he affected me, changed who I was, and what I believe
I adored him and wanted to give him everything

He laughed at my passion and my offerings
His indifference to my flailing ruined what was left of a fragile soul
He misinterpreted, misconstrued, and misunderstood everything I was
It felt as if he did so purposely
He ignored my only talent and wouldn’t read my words

I am still a shattered mess, only aching to be understood
Something about his rejection rendered me invisible
Even to myself.
Now, he’s attempted to delete our tombstone inscription
As if a few scratches could expunge my grief at the loss

As if I could ever un-feel what I felt
As if I could reverse the affects of him on my heart
The worst of it is he banished me instantly from his
Moving along as if I were roadkill to be forgotten
Whew, that was a close one, glad he survived
as I drag my own carcass away from the crash site.

The worst of it is how my love for him, awakened me
Changed me, made me want to be more than I’ve ever been
A better me, because of him.
He didn’t feel any of that impact, not even a jostle of recognition
He irreparably wounded me to a core I didn’t know I possessed,
and the worst of it was he didn’t care a lick.

The worst of it is the weight of what I now carry
The baggage of un-spent adoration, love, lust and submission.
How can I ever give this to another?
Another will never be him.
But of course, he isn’t really him either.

Irretrievable, irrevocable, irreversible
Whatever toxin he infused, is a fatal affliction
I’ve come to decide I will not recover
I will continue as a shell of empty grief and sorrow
But who I once was, is gone, lost, destroyed

I’m fine, I’m okay, I’m still standing
The placebos I feed the world
I know the truth, but I’m the only one who cares
He doesn’t, never did, lied his way through my devotion
He didn’t care if it was a love note, or a suicide note,
it was simply something to feed on.

I thought the sex was love, and for me, it was more like worship,
But I think for him, not so much.
He loved his prowess and stamina.
He loved his power.
He adored himself as I writhed under his weight.

It’s strange how I still love him.
The façade he presented in the beginning.
The conglomeration of parts I’d always dreamt of.
He is a master of the craft, a fisher of emotions, an infantile monster of extraction and extortion.
He baited the net perfectly, and then laughed at his prey’s declaration of love.
An Oscar worthy performance as a vampire of emotions.

If my love was a lie, I’d be over him by now.
I’d have moved past this brokenness and mourning.
For me, it was so much more than lust, and chemicals.
My soul fell, and is still screaming through the abyss
My heart is obliterated and now I’m a nothing.

He interrupted my aura, and I was instantly changed. It was an irretrievable moment and I am still suffering through the sorrow. It weeps through my skin and strangles me with longing for a man who doesn’t exist. It’s like a straight jacket of locks and chains; a noose of emotional torture; this ache of grief that renders me fetal as I hold myself together.
I thought a year would at least provide a scar I could live with, but instead it rips free and bleeds on a regular basis. He laughed at my love, thought me a fraud and a liar. Of course, his disordered mind hadn’t a clue of love or it’s power.
It was naïve of me to think the firestorm I experienced, would translate to his awakening. My own metamorphoses was irrevocably enacted the moment I saw him, but for him to want me with the same passion, was a much too delusional fantasy on my part.
He set the trap well, offering me bait of my ideal. I saw his cage of writhing demons and yet still, still, I loved him with a ferociousness I will never understand.
Even still, a year past and I am swept away by the interruption of a continuous thought of him.
He tried to scratch away the inscription on our tombstone, but no matter, it is still him who haunts the halls of my heart and renders me useless to this world.

Erotica; Messed Up (Part 1)

Messed Up, (part 1)
“I want you done up to the nines. The car will be here at six.” She set her tablet on the table and blinked, holding out both her hands, palms up. He rested a black American Express card in one, and the keys to the car in the other. “I called Beth last week and set up the appointment for eleven.” He held her firmly by her chin and pressed his lips tightly to hers. 

Beth was her hairstylist and salon owner friend. She already knew this wasn’t just her hair getting styled, it was going to be an all-day deal. Waxed, polished, buffed, trimmed, colored and styled. Whole body, hair, nails and everything in between. When Sir wanted her coiffed, it meant he had plans to mess her up. The thought made her belly clench and dampness to reveal itself between her thighs. 

She returned his kiss with a moan and gentle swipe of hand up his fly. He was already hardening, probably at the thought of what he intended for their evening. He gave her a chin bump and sent her on her way, calling after, “Down do, Charity, nothing with lots of pins.” 

“Yes Sir.” 

“Oh, and there is a new dress for you upstairs when you get home.” 

She grinned, and felt like curtsying, but only blew him a kiss and was on her way. She arrived ten minutes early and found a parking place right up front. Beth greeted her with a hug and a small squeal. Besides being her esthetician, Beth was also her confidant, and knew almost all the details of her relationship with, Sir. 

They proceeded with the various spa treatments and finished with her hair. Beth even commented that there wasn’t one mark or bruise on her body, which was odd. Sir, normally left marks on a regular basis as a sign of ownership, but he’d been particularly careful the last few times they’d made love. They lived the lifestyle twenty-four-seven, but it wasn’t as pain-filled as most would imagine. Love making without pain was more often the norm between them now that they’d established a good balance. 

Sir called it, 51/49, with him of course being the fifty-one. Together they were more powerful than apart, and they balanced the other perfectly. She could absorb his overflow and mirror him like no other ever had, and in return he brought her numb body to life. Before Sir found her, courted her, and then won her over, she’d never had an orgasm, and sex had been a dull to sometimes painful experience. He however had unlocked her inner tigress and solved the riddle of her masochistic body. Granted, she took some time to warm up to the inflictions, but once he’d shown her the amount of available ecstasy he could offer, she’d jumped on board with both feet. 

Sir was a dominant sadist, but a sane one, and oddly enough, she’d call him a kind and gentle master even though he hurt her skin on a regular basis. He was never overtly cruel or uncaring and whenever he needed to feed his inner beast, she was happy to accommodate almost any of his particular craves. He always stopped the instant she said it was too much, and he’d not once betrayed that trust. And now, after five years together, they danced the dance from memory and rarely disagreed; their harmony, peace and contentment as a couple was something a Buddhist monk would envy; apart from the fact all their focus was directed at the pleasure of the other, and sexual satisfaction was their end game. 

Charity left the salon at four and rushed home. All she needed to do was change. Beth had even done her makeup, and she looked amazing. Her red hair was down and curled into big, bouncy curls that dangled between her shoulder blades with little tendrils of curls framing her face. She couldn’t wait to see the dress. Sir had amazing tastes and she knew she’d love it. He had a better eye than she did for fashion and what would look the best on her body. 

As she applied a few finishing touches, he appeared in the doorway to the master suite. A stunning pair of stilettos dangling from his right hand. “You are the most beautiful woman on the planet.” 

She blushed and padded barefoot across the plush carpet. “It’s perfect,” She breathed as she took one slow turn so he could see her bared back. The dress had an elaborate strap system around her upper chest but draped in a long, skin exposing cowl down both the front and back, exposing more than enough of her ivory skin to leave hardly anything to the imagination. 

First he handed her the shoes, and then he produced a long velvet box. “Shoes first.” He said as he took a knee to help her fasten the buckles. The ankle straps had tiny gold padlocks and he chuckled after he’d fastened both and stowed the key in his pants pocket. Now she stood taller and her nose was right at his jaw. “Okay…” he presented her with the black velvet box that was oddly heavy. 

She popped it open with an exhale of emotion. The collar that nestled inside was stunning. Black pebbled leather with little sapphires to match her blue dress. There was a large ring in the front, and a silver buckle in the back. She lifted her hair and he buckled it around her throat, checking to make sure it wasn’t too tight, but tight enough it felt like his hand on her neck. The leather was soft, and warmed immediately to her skin until it truly felt like him holding her most vulnerable place. 

“Now, bend over the bed princess.”

Her chest heaved in anticipation, but she did as asked and carefully positioned her upper body across their very tall four poster bed. He went to his cabinet, and in the far mirror she saw him produce the wide leather paddle. Undoubtedly he just wanted to redden her bottom and make it sore enough she felt him even if he didn’t touch her again the rest of the night. 

“Count. Ten each.” 

“Yes Sir.” 

Before he started, he carefully pulled her dress up and settled it under, and above her waist. As per protocol, she only wore garters for her thigh high stockings, and no underwear. She was entirely bared to him in this moment. He petted her bottom and massaged it, lightly spanking it with his hand and making it jiggle. Next he delved a finger between her legs, up through her cleft, and his sound of approval showed he found her wet and ready. 

He lingered there, petting and stroking her damp folds, and gently rubbing her clit until she moaned and arched her back. He seemed to have forgotten about the paddle and was now spreading out all her serum, as the rubbing increased. Without warning, he inserted his middle finger, his incredibly meaty, long middle finger, and she almost orgasmed. She held herself in check however, knowing she had to have permission to cum. 

One of things that always surprised, and equally aroused her, was Sir’s appetite for her body. Often he would alter his plans just to fuck her. It was always a quick, although highly satisfy dip into her puddle of acceptance, but it was obviously also something he’d thought to forestall. The thing about Sir though was simply his sexual appetite knew no bounds, and no doubt, after piercing her now, he’d again during the evening, maybe more than once. 

His suit slack zipper sounded behind her and she looked up to see him in the mirror, at her back, fondling himself, spreading out his pre-cum as he massaged the tip of his erection. He was always so hard it continually amazed her. She grew even wetter and whimpered as he spread her with two thumbs on her slick folds. He slid in just the tip, and settle there to continue petting her bottom and randomly spanking it playfully. 

His voice was full of amusement, “Slight change of plans kitten, but you know how much I love inside.” 

He rolled his hips and settled himself to the base, and then he reached around her hip and gripped her mound. His hand enveloped her entire fleshy mound and he dug in his fingers, making sure to catch her clit with his middle finger. She whimpered again and pushed her bottom into his groin, trying to get away from some of the biting pressure on her freshly waxed flesh. There was no getting away from Sir though, he was a big man and a strong man and he relished it when she tried, so she always did, but never managed to lessen the intensity even by a little. 

He held on and then he began sliding on all her lubrication. He took his time, retreating to the bulging helmet and then thrusting back to home. His balls bounced against her folds and his grip tightened on her front. She let go a small scream as her body shot into high gear. His pounding increased until there was a volley of wet slaps echoing around the room. 

“Oh god—Sir, Sir, please…Ahhhhh…please may I cum?” 

“Not yet…” He grunted, thrusting himself harder and harder into her. His thumb dexterously pressed her clit tight against her pubic bone and she almost lost it. 

“Pleeeeeessse!” She keened. 

His shaft grew hotter and his thrusts slowed, “Now kitten. Now cum for me.” He commanded just as his molten release rocketed up into her core. 
She was now his well-tuned instrument and her body obeyed with alacrity. Her pussy twitched along with her other sphincter muscles and she cried out as her sheath tightened around his still throbbing cock. 

When he popped free of her body, he pulled along their joined fluids and trailed the head of his still dripping cock up through her ass crack. He teased at that other entrance and while still hard, seated his tip just inside her body. 

“Later.” He growled, but stayed here, both of them still twitching. 

Before she stood, he pulled out his favorite jeweled butt plug from the night stand drawer. First he inserted it up into her soaked pussy, and then he slowly inserted it into her bottom. The action caused ripples of aftershocks to rattle through her and she gasped. 

“Stay put. I got distracted. You still need to be reddened. I want you feeling me all night. And leave me in you, I want to decorate your inner thighs. I want you to smell me on you at dinner.” 

He then went to work on her bottom with the paddle, and she counted. Ten on the left cheek with some muscle behind the swings so she was already feeling the sting and ache and knew there would be some significant bruises by morning. Ten more on the right cheek and tears were running down her face, ruining her makeup. She sniffed and with help, resumed an upright position, teetering on the heels, but managing to keep it together. 

He inspected her and used a thumb to swipe at some of the lingering tears. “Getting there,” He grumbled. 

She didn’t even ask to check her reflection in the mirror. This was part of the dance with Sir. He just loved messing her up. Something about her spending an entire day getting ready just so he could fuck it all up was his ideal of a perfect night out. And, if by the time they were out in public, she was already fuck/spank/bit/manhandled-worn around the edges, he was his most happy.

Her hair was still in the delicate braid across the top, but that for sure would be demolished before nights end. He put out his elbow and escorted her to the waiting limo. She knew better than to ask where they were going. It could be anywhere in the world, or nowhere at all. 

They might just spend a couple hours in the limo, doing depraved things behind the tinted glass. Sir was predictably unpredictable and it was guaranteed she would look as if caught in the perfect storm by the end of the evening.

~Too be Continued.

Payne Hawthorne

Fire Clothed in Skin, only .99C

^^^For a limited time, I am putting this novella up for only .99C

Redemption of Fire Final
^^^I will be releasing part two, REDEMPTION OF FIRE, in January 2016. The second book is twice as long and has all kinds of great erotica and BDSM themed scenes.

Here are some teasers from this .99c novella, Fire Clothed in Skin, My Demon Master Series.

Fire Clothed in Skin, only .99c for limited time!
Demons, erotica, BDSM, Comedy, (yes many funny moments!)
US: Kindle Edition
UK: Kindle Edition

  “I noticed you still have your panties on, would you please remove them for me?”
  Gulp, how did I know that would be a request? Blink, pause. Okay fine, it’s just my fear I will get the chair wet, I swear! My body is in some kind of strange overdrive with the lubrication. I feel as if my pussy is a fan girl, screaming and jumping up and down, begging for–him–to see her and make eye contact or something. Oh, it’s also weeping tears of joy at being so near –him.
  I carefully remove said panties and wonder what to do with them. He puts his hand across the table, palm up. Yes they are quite damp, I guess you could call it, damp with my need? Sigh, now I sound like a fucking romance novel. Okay, here ya go big guy, have at it. So glad they were a good pair, actually a really nice lace pair in the palest pink. 
  Something about his big hand and the way he delicately wraps his fingers around all that lace, sends shivers up and down my spine. I want that hand to touch me, my skin, my body and I want him to put those long fingers other places.
  His thumb finds where the cotton is wet. He rubs over that spot a few more times and his eyes find mine, and they fucking sparkle and burst into flames again. Swallow. Did he just tremble? Did his composure crack just a little?   
  Why does this delight me so much? His hand is still caressing my panties and softly kneading them around in his huge fist, and I just realized how big his wrists are, like wow. Can’t wait to see his forearms, I love good forearms and I know his must be magnificent. Sigh. 
  “Dillon.” His voice is so full of need I again puddle where I sit. Fuck my body, stop-it already. 
  “Nothing, I was just enjoying saying your name.” 
  Oh smack! That was about the most stimulating thing anyone’s ever said to me. Again with the rapid blinking, and now I can’t even think, let alone form coherent words. Blink-blink-blink. Also, there is the crimson burning in my cheeks. 
  “I would like you to sit over here.” He motioned to the seat across the aisle from him, the seat with a full view of whomever would be the occupant, not the seat where I am now, with the protection of the table between us. “And I need you to sit so I may see all of you.” 
  I nod, after more blinking, I wobble on these fucking high heels and smooth my skirt, and sort of stumble and fall into the other chair. I swivel it so my knees are facing him. My pinned together knees, which are also shaking. 
  “Touch yourself.” 
  No surprise, I knew this was coming, ahem, maybe wrong word, coming. I might be, coming any second now; the clenching and twitching in my nether regions is reaching a near orchestral frenzy. Okay, spread knees, swivel chair for better viewing pleasure, drag skirt up my thighs. God I love this fabric. Make him wait, move slowly, wait, wait. His eyes are on me, ME, my most hidden parts, and he can’t seem to stop looking. This makes me happy. I’ve been told I have a beautiful pussy.
  I am fair haired all over my body, strawberry blonde to be exact, and I keep a nice, well-manicured playground, but I do leave a strip of red-blonde curls just to show my carpet matches my drapes. Why does it give me so much satisfaction to see him swallow convulsively? 
  I can feel how swollen I already am, so much blood has been rushing down there I must be bright pink at this point, but I also know men love this. He is still staring, and from where I sit I can see the effect I have on his body as well. This makes me happy. Like fucking beside myself delighted. I love being paid that kind of compliment. 
  Something about it is a total power trip too, and honestly, even though I am a sub in most respects, I can get off in a big way just from my guy losing it, and uncontrollably needing to enter my body. If a man does that with me, I will climax the second his hands touch me and he shows he’s given in and abandoned all rational thought...

firequote in need of vapors firequoteknow him in my marrow firequote fingers other places firequote his eyes firequote how long i've waited firequote no lasting harm firequotecaught in a wave firequoteenergyofpassion firequotefemale firequotelike i know him


My Newest Release, AVERY


I just released my newest short story, (3 hr. read). Its only up for a short time and then being included in an anthology.  Get it now from me 3 months before official release.

Avery is a recent divorcee who has lived an entirely vanilla life. She has no idea men like Joshua exist in this world, but she’s soon to discover what it means to be recognized by a dominant. Joshua’s only problem is now convincing Avery she is his perfect submissive counterpart.

Get it here: Kindle US or Kindle UK