Perfect Authority

I want you, and I hate myself for it. Because you're the figure of perfect authority, and you do it so well. You try to control us, for our own good, and we do what you say and yet...then I go off and do what I want and when I come back you're always waiting, with a scowl. She will always forgive me: she loves me and I love her and I give her all the tender feelings I allow myself to feel and to show, but you...you look so competent and commanding in that uniform, and we respond somewhere in our reptilian brain with "Yes sir."

I hate you. And you know that.

I think I'm enough for her, but she wants us both. But every time you make me come I hate you for it. I don't want to be controlled by your perfect authority and yet, I want you to make me feel it. A sick twisting in my stomach deeper than any desire I've ever felt.

You protect us, but I don't want protection. I can't feel alive unless I'm tempting fate.

But you will protect me from myself.

If only I could bring you down, make you experience what it's like when you've got me trussed, looking down at me with those ice-blue eyes, your smooth muscled body such a sight of delicious temptation, the force of your hand simply gripping me.

It makes me insane, when you hold me tightly: my wrist, my ankle, the back of my neck...as if you were ready to shove me into the back of your vehicle...you caught me, and now I'll have to pay.

She loves me, she sees what is worth loving, but I will never let you see it.

When you've fucked us each in turn, as we lie there all together, slave to your cock and your hands and your mouth...touching and tasting and thrusting and we are each dissolved in sticky screaming bliss and against my will...but she is happy, as I give her deep kisses and I murmur, "I love you so much, baby, my pretty princess." Once she's asleep, hopefully dreaming of sweet things I have to get up, get out and away from you, you smug bastard, lying there equally satisfied. I can't look at your cock, it makes me stupid, it's so perfectly formed and then I think of it inside me, how it fits so tightly...I want to scream all over again. But for a different reason.

If only you knew what I thought of...but maybe you do. How I would subdue you and make you MY slave. My footstool, my lapdog, my little bitch.

That last thought...yes. That would be so nice. I know you know from the way I look at you. Across a room, or even just the table as we eat. We please you and we feed you and we take such good care of you. But I'm thinking my dark perverted thoughts of domination and my smile is wicked. You pause, in the midst of a bite of something and you see into me, deep inside where no one else has ever gone. It's your job, after all. You raise an eyebrow as if to say you're not fooling me.

I am in the kitchen when suddenly I feel your hand on the back of my neck. Before I can squirm out of your grip you've cuffed me, then led me back upstairs to another room, another bed...one which has a very special purpose.

I fight you but you are too strong for me, you have the advantage as always. You shake your head.

"I know you stand over me every night, watching. Thinking. And every night we have to go through this. If only you would stay put. Like a dog digging under the fence. But someone day I will find a strong enough chain to keep you."

"Never."

And so every night, I have to be cuffed and tied up and you pound me hard, attempting to fuck the resistance out of me. But you never will. With every thrust you long to subdue me. But you never will. You exert extreme authority and you should, because I am dangerous. For all the ones who make your job difficult, you can hone your skills on me...and we each satisfy the other in a way even we, as three, cannot do. She saves us with her love. We save each other with this...and I hate you but I love you too, as you're taking control all over again.

Because you do it so well.