I have a rather active imagination sometimes, and my girlfriend Vul is such an enabler, you know? After she sort of… opened the door to a bit of humiliation and restraint, my imagination went ‘whee’ and started taking me in directions I didn’t know I wanted to go.

This didn’t go quite as I expected, but I think it ended up better for it. Look, I’m an awkward person and I would 100% miss those social queues. I’m just uhm. You know. Glad things ended up working out for the best. Now, where is that salve…

Content warning: This story is NSFW. It contains sex, consensual tief on tief violence, restraints, broken diahes, and a few other naughty things.

#NSFW #Erotic #Erotica #Writing #Sex

“You seem… distracted tonight, Diotima.” Runar says, offhandedly.

“Yeah, sorry.” “It’s just been… I’ve been stuck here for two fucking weeks already. I wanted to be home already, not wasting my time here, watching the gods damned little time I have get whittled away by fucking snow, of all things. I guess its like, whatever.” She rolls her eyes, waving her own empty glass at the window dismissively, attempting to make light of the situation. The underlying edge to her voice and the subtle clenching of her jaw, though, give her true feelings form. She’s furious… at the feeling of helplessness, at her own impotence, at… well, at everything.

“Is it?” Runar asks, raising an eyebrow. He senses the bitterness in her voice, the anger.

She half turns, amber eyes flashing with annoyance. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what, Diotima? Care about my friend?” Runar probes, trying to draw the young woman out. Though their encounters are infrequent, they’re friends… more than friends, truth be told. The three of them… Dio, Vul, and Runar… have an interesting arrangement. Diotima has jokingly called him a ‘part time boyfriend’ and he supposes that was as accurate a description as any. “I’m allowed that, don’t you think?”

Diotima huffs, giving her friend and sometimes lover another irritated look. “Hn. Okay you know what, I’m not in the mood to be… whatever, analyzed. Maybe I’ll see you before I finally get to leave, if I ever get to fucking leave. I know where to find you if I want you.” She moves to stand, a bit unsteady on her feet after the two glasses of wine she drained in rapid succession.

“Sit, you’re not going anywhere tonight.” Runar replies. If he’s hurt by her casual dismissal, he doesn’t show it. “It’s nearly twelve bells, the streets are covered in snow and ice, and you’re…” he considers for a moment. “Not drunk, but not entirely sober, either.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Dio snaps, glaring.

Runar meets her glare, calm. “I’m asking you to stay. I’d rather not explain to Vul that I let her drunk, angry wife wander into a snowstorm.”

She glares for a moment, wanting nothing more than to argue. But she knows he’s right, as infuriating as it feels. “Fine! Fine...” Lowering herself back into the chair, steadying herself with her hand, she adds “Not like I have a choice, not really.”

“Is my company truly that terrible?” He asks, attempting to lighten the mood.

Dio rolls her eyes and scoffs, though there’s not much venom in it. “Shut up, you know it isn’t that. But… I haven’t seen Vul for almost half a year, dude. You’ve seen her what, three, four times to my none? And THIS-” She gestures again to the falling snow “-utter bullshit is threatening to take away what little time I have.” As is often the case when she is upset, her native dialect colors her words.

Runar considers her over the rim of his wineglass. “Twice, actually.” He replies. “Does that bother you?” His tone is light, but it is a serious question. Their arrangement is built on the consent of everyone involved, so if she is growing jealous…

“Oh fuck off.” Diotima replies, cracking a half smile. “It’s not that at all. I’m glad you two have fun. Really really. Hells, dude, I even suggested-”

“I remember.” He smiles back. “You were right. She did enjoy that, yes.”

Dio shrugs, perhaps a little smug. “Told you she would.”

“You did.” Runar agrees. He toasts her, sipping his wine. “I surprised myself by enjoying it too.”

“Yeah? Well, that’s going to live rent free in my dreams, thanks. And-” She huffs “-stop trying to cheer me up, asshole. I’m trying to be pissed off and you’re like… fucking it all up. I want to be angry, I want to be furious right now, I just… I need. I don’t know, to hit something.”

“Would that make you feel better?” He asks, seriously. “We can try that if you like?”

“Hit something?” Dio snorts. “Like what?”

“Or someone.”

“What, hit you? No. I don’t want to hit you.” She replies with a short laugh. “I’m not… I don’t… that’s a terrible idea, especially tonight. “I mean, if you want to slap me around a little, though, like… sure. I’ve been a bitch all night, I probably deserve it.” She intends it as both a flippant joke and an apology, but as she says it, she wonders if maybe she wouldn’t mind that, after all.

“Would that help?” Runar replies, softly, perceptive as always. “With… everything?”

After a moment, Her cheeks flushed, Dio responds.. “Oh. Uhm. I… yeah. I think it would.”

-—

“Hey. I changed my mind, okay?” Dio says, struggling against the ropes that bind her to the chair. “I don’t… untie me right the fuck now.”

Runar, standing over her, considers the request. “No.” He replies simply. “Because you’re lying to me.” He grabs her chin, tilting her head up, meeting her gaze. “Good girls tell the truth.”

“Good gi- oh fuck OFF, don’t call me that you fucker.” Dio snaps, jerking her chin free. “I said untie me, right n-”

A light slap, administered to the foul mouthed tiefling’s cheek. “I’ll call you what I please.” He says, conversationally. “Remember, you wanted this. Now, behave.”

“Haah…” An exhale of breath as she winces, more out of the shock of being stuck than anything else. “Hn…” The sensation is… interesting, the helplessness adding to the allure. “...bastard.”

“So she likes it.” Runar says, crouching to eye level, gently mocking. “Tough, competent Diotima, helpless and enjoying every moment.”

“Fuck you…” She breathes. “I am not, you bastard.”

You’re not what, Diotima? Tough? Competent? Or enjoying this? Runar murmurs, crouching to meet her eyes. “Whichever it is, I told you to tell me the truth.” He slaps her again, hard enough to make her gasp. “I’ve warned you twice, don’t make me warn you a third time.”

“Oh, oh you… you motherfucker, I am going to KILL you, I am going to END you, you utter bastard.” She says, her words dripping with venom. When I get out, you’re fucking dead.” Her violent promises aside, her quickened breath, intensity of her gaze hint at the lie beneath the rage she is feigning.

“Such language. Must I gag you?” Runar teases. “I can, if that’s what you’re after.”

Fury… or something akin to it, glints in the reflective embers of her eyes. “…no. No, you utter bastard.” She’s glaring, flushed with embarrassment… at her helplessness, at the visceral reaction his ministrations are having, at knowing that he knows.

He slaps her again, across the other cheek, a small squeal elicited from her lips. “Then, truth. Do. You. Like. This?” Though he agreed to this to help his friend, he’s settling into this role, finding that he, too, enjoys this dynamic. He’s not the sort to hit someone, but this playacting satisfies something he did not know he needed.

“Fine! Yes! Okay!” She spits, glaring, her breathing shallow and her heart racing. “I… fuck you, yes… I…” A shuddery breath, then timidly, she replies. “….yeah.”

“Good girl.” He teases, enjoying the flare of anger in her eyes as the words leave his lips. “Say it.”

“What? No, I’m not fucking saying that, I-”

“You are.” He interrupts. “ I know you. You want to say it, don’t you? You enjoy it.” He leans forward, daring her to lie. “Tell the truth.”

“No…!” She spits, glaring. “I’m NEVER saying that agai-”

Runar’s hand connects with Dio’s face once more. Lost in the moment as he is, this time he fails to pull his swing.

Diotima, yelps in pain, as his hand connects with her cheek, head rocking sideways and lip split in the impact. “Aaah! Fuck!” She exclaims, scrunching her eyes shut, grimacing. “Fucking hells, dude, what the fuck…?” Her tongue darts out, tasting blood. “Ow.”

Runar, shocked for a moment, recovers enough of his senses to respond. “I’m so sorry, I got carried away and… are you alright? Hells, you’re bleeding.”

Probing her lip with her tongue again, she laughs, once. “Yeah, it’s… I’m fine. Fuck, you hit hard.”

“I was lost in our… game, I didn’t mean-” Runar begin, his voice laced with guilt.

Diotima interrupts, laughing. “I know. It’s fine, like… let’s be honest, I probably deserved it for being so utterly bitchy all night.”

“Let me see.” He leans forward, examining her injuries.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” She huffs. “Fine.” But, in her mind, a plan has emerged… it’s been… okay, it’s been months since she’s… well, anything, really. She’s trapped here, she’s angry, and she was honestly planning on… things happening, before she got caught up in her feelings.

So, as Runar’s fingers probe her lip, assessing the damage his over-enthusiasm has caused…

Dio bites him. Hard.

“Hells!” Runar exclaims, jerking his hand away from the angry young woman. “I was trying to help you!” The shadow of annoyance and pain flits across his face; he can feel the indentations where her teeth have dug into his flesh.

“Yeah, and I fucking bit you.” She says, glaring. “You smacked the shit out of me, asshole!” Her small smirk, daring him to continue… egging him on.

Runar, guilt evident in every word, says. “Yes, I got carried away. That has never happened before.” A quick glance at her cheek tells him that she’ll bruise; her lip, where he struck her, is already swollen. “I’m not…” He sighs. “Here, I'll untie you.”

“...what? No!” Diotima says, dropping the ‘angry agitator’ act. “Wait, dude, like… come on. It’s fine, I didn’t...” Twisting to try to catch his eye as he loosens her bonds, protesting “...I was just trying to…” And as her hands comes free, sighing, she finishes. “I was trying to show you it was fine.” Rubbing her wrists, she adds. “I’m sorry I bit you. I’m stupid sometimes.”

“You bit me and called me an asshole to tell me it was fine?” Runar raises an eyebrow, muted amusement on his face.

Dio, flushing, laughs a little “Oh, shut up. It seemed like a good idea in my head, okay? I thought you’d get it, but you were…” She waves her hands, searching for the words.

“Feeling terrible that I got carried away?” Runar offers.

“I mean, I was going to say ‘being a little bitch’ but I guess that works too?” Dio says, sticking out her tongue.

Runar, caught off-guard, laughs despite himself. “And you are an insufferable little brat sometimes.”

“So what, are you going to teach me a lesson then?” She teases. “You think you’re scary but you’re not.” Trying to shake him out of the guilt he’s feeling, trying to show him that she’s fine, that this is fine. But seeing the look of guilt he still wears, she stops. “Look, if you don’t want to… do this, it’s fine. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be pushing you, I’m just… I don’t know. Whatever.”

“No, you’re fine, I’m not… I’m just worried that I’m going to hurt you.” Runar says, adding after a moment: “I was enjoying that, perhaps more than I’d like to admit.”

“Hn.” She says, tilting her head a little. “Slapping me, you mean?”

“Yes.” Runar replies, not quite meeting her eyes. “Though I’d say ‘hurting you’ if I were to be honest.”

“Oh.” Diotima replies. And, after a long moment, she adds, quietly: “I think I wanted you to. Not just slapping, you know, but… I don’t know. More.”

Runar, looking at her intently, a mix of concern and… something else on his face, asks “Why would you want that, Diotima? Did you like it when I…?”

“Yeah.” She says, flushing. “Look, okay, I know. It’s more than a little fucked up. But I did. Even the…” She touches her lip where he split it. “This.”

“Again… why?” Runar repeats.

Diotima exhales, leaning back a little. “I don’t know, it’s just… ugh, I’m going to sound like some sort of I dunno, Loviatar worshiper and I’m not at all but…” She closes her eyes… it helps her focus her thoughts when she’s emotional. “...I don’t know. Everything is shit, okay? This fucking storm is shit, school is shit, being away from everyone I care about because I wanted… whatever... is shit. I’m just… I don’t know, I’m not making any sense. Never mind.”

“You’re making sense, Diotima. You’re escaping into the moment.” Runar says.

Dio considers this. “Yes. And you losing control a little, I mean… ugh okay don’t judge me but I sort of… want you to? I don’t want you to like, hurt me hurt me, but….” A shrug. “...a few bruises, a little blood, I mean. Okay?” Opening one eye to gauge his reaction, she waits. She’s, perhaps, had vague thoughts of these ideas before but she’s never considered exploring them.

“And if I hurt you more than that?” Runar asks, offering her a hand. “If I lose control more than a little?”

Dio shrugs, the ghost of a smile. “As if you could.” Taking his hand, she stands. “Like I said, dude, you’re a little bitch.” A small shove, a smirk.

“And as I said, you-” He says, catching her wrist, almost growling. “-are an insufferable brat sometimes.” His assent to her proposal is implicit in his actions.

“Do something about it then.” Dio says, trying unsuccessfully to break free of his grasp. “Coward.”

Runar grabs her under the chin with his other hand, walking forward, requiring her to backpedal, “Do something about it?” Forcing her chin up, tilting her head so he can look her in the eyes, he adds “What do you want me to do about it?”

“Oh fuck off!” She laughs, breathlessly. “You just want me to say it… you know I hate that…” Her breathing is heavy, cheeks flushed, eyes intent… daring him to make her, perhaps.

“If you want it, you’ll say it.” He replies, teasing, enjoying the little exhale of breath as she runs out of space, impacting the wall. “And that-” He says, leaning forward until their foreheads are almost touching “-is only the beginning of what I’m going to make you do.”

“..haaah” Dio gasps, attempting to lean forward to kiss him, hungry. “Just...”

“No.” Runar replies, forcing her back into the wall, denying her. “Do as you’re told.”

“Fuck! Fuck…” Dio gasps. “Fine… I…” She closes her eyes. “I want you to-”

“Eyes open.” Runar demands.

“Oh come ON.” Dio complains, but she assents nonetheless, almost whining “I… just… please. Whatever, just… inside. PLEASE.”

Runar chuckles. “And there she is. The good girl under the tough exterior.” Stroking her cheek with a finger, tilting her chin up to kiss her, noting, in passing, the coppery taste of her blood.

“Don’t call me that…” She murmurs, responding to his touch, eyes closing. “I’m not… that…”

“You are.” He asserts, kissing her again. “Deny it if you like, but we both know it’s true, don’t we Diotima?”

“No…” She whispers. “Fuck… aaah…. Fuck you.” A pause, something inaudible said.

Runar, leaning closer. “What was that?”

“If I… I’ll say it if you’ll…” A few rapid breaths. “...please?”

“If you admit it.”

“I… fine. I’m… that.”

“A good girl?”

“Fuck… you. Yes. Fine. Yes…”

-—

Diotima, pressed into the wall, her legs wrapped around Runar, small yelps from her lips as he has her... one hand on the wall to brace, the other holding her in place. His enthusiasm, painful, though she’s not protested… she wanted this, wanted to hurt. As he fills her, her nails… sharp, claw-like… draw bloody lines across his shoulder blades.

“Fuck!” He exclaims, a rare epithet from his lips as her nails dig into his flesh, his reaction slamming her into the wall hard enough to rattle the windowpanes. A slap, stinging, across her uninjured cheek, a forceful kiss...

Breaking away from the kiss, her mouth finding his shoulder, biting… first, gently, then, as a wave of dizzied pleasure hits her, harder, the faint taste of blood as her teeth pierce his shoulder...

His curse, a thrust to make her release him, screaming in pleasured pain, tearing her away by her horns, another slap before his hand finds her throat, gripping it as he continues to have her…

Gasping, her hand around his, moving his hand to better suit, showing him how, as Vul once showed her… understanding, finally, what she’d meant, why Vul had always wanted this… the pressure, the feeling of being controlled… yes….

Lifting the girl… woman… carrying her away... a free hand clearing the glasses, the dishes from his table, shattering them without concern. Her cries as his ministrations continue unabated, remembering, vaguely, that he’d worried about control… his hand around her throat as it has been around her wife’s on their last visit… these two strange outlanders…

Her legs, crossing, wrapping themselves around his waist, pulling him in, hands on his chest, nails biting, using what little self control she has left to keep from scoring him here too… “Nn… fuck! Oh… oh gods, please…. Haaah…” She exclaims…

Turning her over, pinning her… her wrists held behind her back, hand in her hair, head pulled back, her legs trembling, her cries soft, shaky… his own climax hitting him without warning, driven on by need and something darker, perhaps…

A fleeting thought of safety… discarded as he finishes, her wrists released… her hands on her own body, exploring… bringing her to her own conclusion… a shuddering, screaming affair that leaves her bruised, bloodied body useless for quite some time.

-—

(Sometime the next morning)

“Oh… oh shit, your shoulder…” Diotima says, the injury she inflicted catching her eye, draped lazily as she is across her sometime lover’s chest as the sun peeks over the horizon, the skies clear for the first time in weeks. She runs a gentle finger around the edges of the blood encrusted circle, wincing as she assesses the damage. “Fuck, I didn’t… I thought that was my blood. Sorry, I didn’t meant to bite you that hard.”

Runar chuckles, gently running a finger along one of the soft ridges along her spine. “It will heal, and I cannot say that I didn’t enjoy it in the moment.” Tilting his head, frowning, he asks “Is your neck… bruising?”

Dio half smiles, toying with the injury. “Yep. And my cheek looks pretty bad too. How is your back?” She adds, tilting her head to catch his eye. She remembers, vaguely, raking him repeatedly with her nails.

“Truth be told? I think I’m stuck to the sheet.” He laughs. “You were rather enthusiastic about that.”

Dio hides her face for a moment, embarrassed. “Fuck, sorry!” She says, muffled by his chest.

“Again, I’ll heal and it was… an interesting experience, to say the least.” A long pause, and then, almost awkwardly, he asks “And… were you hurt anywhere else? I was not particularly gentle.”

“Hm?” It takes her a moment, but Dio gets there. “Oh! I mean… I ache, I feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach all night, but I’ll live.” She says, giving him a quick eye-roll and half smile. “Worth it though.” Perhaps she fails to mention the bit of spotting, but… it is nothing, really, and will only worry him.

“Well. I do have some salve and a healing potions. I’ll be fine but you’ll be journeying soon, if this weather holds.” He replies, not quite believing her but not wanting to call her on it.

“Okay first of all, we both know you’re terrified that Vul will see these-” She motions to the bruises on her face, neck, and wrists “-and travel all the way up here to end you, and second… either we both take them or neither of us do.”

Runar laughs. “I do not deny that. Shall we quaff a potion each, apply some salve, and see what the bakery has on offer?”

Diotima nods, rolling off of him to find her discarded clothing. “Yes, let’s just hope they weren’t in late to make the food!”

“Oh. Shit.”

//end

The dust motes drift languidly Like they have nowhere to be. A diagonal shape crawls across the wall, Intangible, abstract, living art. So I cup my hands and capture a handful Gold glows and splashes red and yellow. This fountain of wonder spills endlessly, A treasure beyond comprehension. All the while the melody of her voice Bubbles easily about nothing & everything. Moments common to all men, Mine, framed by loyalty and faithfulness. And it dawns on me how my wealth Outshines even that of Solomon.

---

Some days you wake up and the world is magical. Other days, it’s mundane. Every one is a gift though. Some you just love from the moment of pre-consciousness and nothing can dim the light coming from you. If not, it’s the kind of day that you’ve been given but you already have that day, or it’s an ugly sweater of a day… well, there is good in those as well. We just have to look a little harder.

And the truth is, good, bad or other: No day is as golden (or not) in its moment as it is in memory. Time has a way of gilding things so that from a distance they all look like treasures if we get the light just right.

It is not, after all, your state of being, it is your state of mind.

---

---

#poetry #writing #confession

Un autre tout p’tit bout d’poème en français.

 
D'un rien parfois
Le temps s'étire
S'attire à soi
Pour une étreinte
Parfois
Le temps n'est rien
 
 
 
 
#poetry #poems #writing #french #time #poesie #poeme #ecriture #français #temps

« Le pouvoir des langues ne s’exerce pas que symboliquement. La domination de quelques-unes prend une forme éminemment politique quand elles s’imposent contre les langues maternelles, bousculant les identités intimes. »

« Le pouvoir des langues. Identités, domination, résistance », Manière de voir, n° 186, décembre 2022 -janvier 2023.

Un poème en français, ma langue maternelle.

 
ma langue, quelle est-elle
mon langue âge
venu du fin fond des sages
mot-heurt qui frappe parfois

dans la mère
de mots
je me perds
noyau noyée
de maux
échoués sur
dérivent

des cendres
au plus profond
un puits sans fin sans fonds
des mots jetés
sans sens, cent sens
sang qui s'écoule
en vain dans les veines
tout comprendre rien
que des mots

des briques
qui m'abritent
s'ébruitent et s'invitent
parfois s'évitent

sabir argot ma langue
à moi patois

normes hâtives
carcans étroits
polis politiques
domine-nation
identité boue.sculée
le son de la mère
effacé
l'int.imité
amère leçon

fulgerrance de
l'imagination
renverse contourne
retrouve en bouche
les mots inventés invités
catapultés qui claquent
au palais
château de la mère
mer de la parole de l'émoi
mon toit à moi
 
 
 
 
#poetry #poems #writing #french #language #poesie #poeme #ecriture #français #langage #langue