The following is not at all what I was talking about when I said that I was writing again in my last post… This is actually an unfinished project that I apparently began in November of last year (glad I tend to date my documents) and then absolutely forgot about until someone reblogged it on my tumblr last night. Thanks to them for reminding me of this; I have since added several paragraphs and really excited about it, so I’m gonna post it here for anyone interested in an F/f story. Cheers!
My cheek rests on your chest, my ear against your bare skin–one side of my face warmed by your body, the other exposed to the air of the cool room. Lower down, the rest of my body is covered by blankets, twisted to fit close around me. You are less tightly bound, with the bedding swaddled languidly over you from mid-ribs to where your toes peek out at the foot of the bed, your legs longer than mine. I am curled up against you, one hand clutching the blankets at my breasts while the other arm is slung over your middle, a hand gripping your hip. My knees too are drawn up so that they share a border with you. Even my back is not lonely: your hand between my shoulder blades gently and warmly reassures me as you draw your fingers across the bumps of my spine. Your other arm is angled out, hand resting under the pillow behind your head, giving it just enough tilt for you to look down your nose at me.
I can feel the tenderness of your gaze. I curl more tightly, letting my eyes close as I breathe in the warmth of you. Nuzzling my face into between your breasts for the scent of your skin.
I can feel you smile. You move your hand from my back to pet the crown of my head, your chest vibrating with a soft “mmm” that warms my heart. I want nothing more than to be here. Like this. With you. I never want to leave your side.
As if you can read my thoughts–as if they escaped my head like tiny arrows that pricked into your skin, you speak the first words between us in several minutes.
“My little darling… I love feeling you against my skin. I want to feel you there always.” My heart surges in love and delight.
“Oh,” I whisper, “God, I wish I would never leave it. Never.”
“Of course, Mistress. I am always devoted to you. I want to show you that I always am. Truly always.”
“You would have me become your goddess? Rather than just your Mistress?”
“Of course. In my heart, you already are.”
“Would ever want to leave me? Someday, long from now?”
“Never,” I breathe sharply. “Never. I hope you know that that is true.”
“And you would never wish to leave me?”
“Never!” I say, more heated this time. “Never.”
“If you would really truly forever be mine–”
“Exclusively, intimately mine–”
“Truly never leave my side… I can make that your reality.”
I face you directly, tense and wide-eyed. “Is that not already my reality? Have I done something to make you think I would have my life any way other than it is with you?”
“No, no, my little girl.” You brush a hand across my forehead to ease my anxiousness. “I simply wish to be sure you… could handle taking a further step.” The tension in my body shifts.
“… I am,” I reply. Promptly, but hesitantly. I don’t know what further steps can be taken to devote myself to you even more.
You smile largely, letting out a deep breath as you lay your head all the way back, your hands drawing my head back into your bosom. “Then I shall make it so.”
My eyes silently dart about the room, wondering what you mean, and wondering at your splendidness in your relaxed yet powerful pose. Your strong arms adjust my body around you so that I am hunched in your lap as you reach for a piece of paper on your nightstand. I see that the tiny paper is nearly black with text as you switch it to your opposite hand to grab the liquid light that is your emerald, your birthstone. I am entitled to place its cord around your neck when you dress each morning, and have often seen you clutching it throughout the day. Now you hold it by the setting, raised up just above your forehead while you look at the paper held near your face. You glance up at me briefly. “I have been practicing for this. Practicing and waiting,” you say with a smile.
My heart begins to beat quickly. You open your mouth and begin reciting strange words that I do not understand. This is magic. This is most certainly magic. I knew that you occasionally practice bits of magic–have often sat with you as you use your emerald to heighten your awarenessess, to open your inner eye, even to make the flowers bloom at night. But this time… You are speaking rapidly, emphatically, and I do not understand a word of it. You touch your emerald to your forehead, then to mine. I can hear my blood rushing in my ears. You touch your emerald to your fast-moving lips, to your throat, to your chest, to your navel, and finally dip it between your legs beneath the blanket. The energy of the room is intense–as if I can feel every molecule of my body, can feel the weight of everything in the room.
Finally, your voice goes quiet. Your face looks a bit flushed, as well as triumphant. There is a moment of silence, of absolute quiet as you gaze down at me from atop your long neck, a curious smile waiting at your lips. I wait, not knowing what is bound to happen, not knowing what to do when it does.
But within seconds of those thoughts, the silence is broken by own gasp. Like a breath has been pulled out of me like a key from a lock–I barely know that I’ve made a sound at all until I become aware of the rest of my body. A dizziness–in my head, and in my limbs, in my core, in my fingers. Like all the parts of me are so far away from each other. I jerk my hands in front of my face, and they look… almost normal. Something just seems… off. I look toward your face with anxious eyes.
You are absolutely grinning. Grinning in a way I’ve never seen before. You throw your head back in glee, but when it snaps back, you are… somehow farther away. My view seems to be shifting downward– at first my face was level with your neck, but now I am facing your chest. Now I am facing your breasts. Now I am facing your breastbone. I look around, a bit panicked. Am I sinking? I grab at the blankets beneath me. No–the bed is still as it was. But the blanket feels… different. Am I…
I snap my view back to your face, but it is almost completely obscured by your breasts as I look up the cliff of your torso. You hunch your shoulders, leaning down over me, your eyes glinting.
“Oh, my little doll… You truly will be my doll now, won’t you? I can keep you on my person at all times.” My heart beats against my ribs. Is it fear? Is this fear I’m feeling? Yes–I am afraid, but… there is so much else. I am afraid. I am terrified, even. And I am awestruck. I am burstingly happy. I am full of love for you. I am shaken by the sheer volume of you. My Goddess. As if you hadn’t been already.
I close my eyes, breathing heavily from all of the emotion, and wait for the magic to take its course.
I open my eyes upon my new perspective of the world: looking out from a mere inch of physicality. Everything around me is… overwhelming. The fibers of the blanket are like a thick carpet. Your body heat reaches me heavily. Stepping back, I can see the movement of your belly with your breathing, can hear your breaths as you take them. I can hear the melody of your delighted laughter as you look down upon me. I take several more steps backward and crane my neck to look at your face, gasping. From here, I can see all of your perfections even more clearly. I can appreciate each part of you more deliberately. More fully. More intimately.
A giant hand scoops me up, disorienting me so that I land on my back in your palm. “Oh, my dear little girl,” you coo. ‘I’m sorry–but I cannot help myself. I need to look at you like this. I need to see you like this. I need to.”
You display me in one hand held inches from your face, turning it to see me from all sides. I feel silly under your gaze. It’s not as if you’ve never looked at me before–and in my blandness, wearing the chemise I wear every night, my hair undone and plain.
But you. You are on display for my eyes. Your every detail. The smooth supple field of your skin. All things I had admired from afar–at least, afar compared to how close I am now. After all, I had lain in your bed so many nights before this one. I have always been close to you, our closeness an open secret. You closest handmaid, your constant companion, and you more than the apple of my eye at all times, and I knowing I am the same in yours. I who have dressed you, pulling tight the laces of your gowns as you hold your breasts in place. I who have helped bathe you, shyly taking in your statuesque body as I pour warm water over you. I who have slept in your room and secretly in your bed for so long now that sleeping in my own quarters would seem so empty. Yes, I have looked at you often enough and earnestly enough, but now… I am able to experience you in an entirely different way. You always nearly towered over me, but now… you are planetary, and I a small star. I blush hard beneath your gaze as you carefully position your hand before your face, before your brilliant smile.
“Oh, I have wanted this,” you say as you recline back into the bed, propping your head against the lush layers of pillows. Carefully, you lower your hand to your chest, inclining your palm for me to leave your hand and stand instead atop the up-and-down of your breath. You smile even more at my shyness in this place. “Come, now–you act as if you have not known this place before.” And it is true–I have been intimate with so many parts of you, and your chest is no exception. How often have I laid my head against the rhythmic beating of your heart? Laid a hand over one of your sumptuous breasts? In your nakedness–your preferred state for sleep–I have known you, but now it is overwhelming. Your breasts swell mountainous before me. Suddenly a shift in my surroundings, and they are mounted higher–your hands cupping them up around me. “I want you to touch me,” you whisper. “I want you to touch me in ways you have not touched me before.”
I gasp a little, in awe of your goddess body, now truly of goddess proportions. You let your breasts fall back, your breath shortening in obvious anticipation. I struggle to take it all in, but will myself to approach one breast, like an island of flesh in an empty sea. I see from here that your nipples are already hardening. I place my hands in front of me against the wall of warm and forgiving skin, and you take a quick inhale. My hands knead into you, deeply immersing into your flesh, fingers stretching and retracting. “More,” you whisper. I begin to circle your immense breast, all the while kneading my hands as forcefully as I am able, even digging my nails into you. As I work, your opposite hand glides along your side, slowly caressing yourself to your hip, then tracing your inner thigh, then disappearing from my view a little ways lower. I can feel the tightening of your muscles beneath me, see your nipples harden further. Your breasts and me along with them jiggle as you find your rhythm, but only for a moment. Your hand emerges and comes back over me, the scent of you pungently enveloping me.
“I want you to know me like a man–but not like a man.” You deliberately rub your fingers over my body, coating me in your juices. “I want you to fill me. I want you to become a part of me.” I let myself be rolled over along your chest, your arousal covering me head to toe. More dramatically, you whisper, “I want you inside of me.”