Wordless comfort

He said not a word.
And yet he said everything.

He came for his needs
and yet he met mine.
He nearly was tender,
he nearly was gentle,
he nearly caressed me
and said not a word.

I cried.
He came through the door
and I cried.
He eyed me and touched me
and sent me downstairs -
with a nod of his head
he sent me downstairs,
and I knew I was safe
and I knew I was treasured
and only with him
could I cry.

And as for the rest,
it went on as always,
and yet it was different,
it all tasted different,
the torture was lighter,
the kisses were sweeter,
I knelt to his cock
and my mouth and tongue loved him,
I gave him my eyes
and he drank that I loved him,
I served his desire
and he honored my grief,
he said not a word
but accepted my grief,
as I sucked on his cock
and fondled his balls
and offered up scenes
igniting his fantasies,
yielding my mouth
to the cock that belongs there
and glowed at the sounds
of pleasure and need.

And then I spoke of how I loved him
and he roared.

And he came.

And after he was gone, I held my usual position down on the ground. His last action, before heading upstairs, was to drape his chain across my naked back like a cold, hard, warm embrace of ownership. And I sobbed and sobbed and knew he was there for me.

Even though he never said a word.


Written for this blog at the suggestion of my Master.