Yes, I’ll Be Your Bitch (Behind Closed Doors)
It’s the middle of the week so you know how we do on NakedWithSocksOn.com. We turn up the heat with a little bit of erotic writing. Well, this week is a special edition of Wet Wednesdays as we have a guest blogger named Anisha all the way from India. Yes, you read correctly, India. Well, technically Muscat, Oman for the summer, but like me you probably never heard of it ’til now. If having a reader from that corner of the globe wasn’t surprising enough, wait until you read her submission.
A few weeks ago, y’all might remember I wrote “You Wouldn’t Wanna Be My Bitch? (Pillow Talk).” It was a titillating piece of writing that ruffled some feathers and moistened some others. Well, Anisha was so moved by the piece that she wrote an answer blog, “Yes, I’ll Be Your Bitch.” Sounds like an erotica showdown. Check out her post below and speak your piece…
“Yes, I’ll Be Your Bitch”
I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you promise to tease and taunt me long
Before we get behind closed doors.
I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you’ll pull me hard and strong against your body.
Your grip turning hard from soft as you look into my eyes,
Silently promising the ride of my life.
I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If tonight I can and will be your animal,
And all of it is etched on your walls and in your mind forever.
I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you’ll let me rip your clothes while I straddle you.
Tearing everything that stands in the way—your clothes, your inhibitions, your past.
I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you treat me not like a fragile female, but an equal in every sense.
Be not gentle—I’ll beg if that’s how you like it.
I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you let me push you against a wall, look up into your eyes,
Tell you to hold on for dear life, and I see no judgment in your eyes.
I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you pull me up in the middle of frenzied fellatio.
Push me against the same wall, and growl against my mouth, “It’s my turn!”
I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you let my hands guide your head, yank your hair, steer you, and grind against your mouth,
’Til I explode, shaking, pulsating and spent against you.
I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you don’t settle for one orgasm, pick my exhausted body,
And resurrect me with your words, lips, hands and manhood.
I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you ignore my feeble protests to tie my hands above me,
And have your way.
I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes really.
If you tease me until I beg you to enter me, and wrap my legs around you,
Matching your movement with mine.
I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you promise to make me scream, promise to whisper, “louder, louder…”
Uncaring, untie me, turn me around, grab my hips, watch me, look at me like you have at no one else,
Order me to turn around and watch you make me your plaything.
I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you promise to let your guard down and let me take control.
Let me be on top, and watch you tremble and groan.
I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If I can ride you, closing my eyes, body arched, speaking in tongues, nails digging into your chest,
While you plunge into me and hold my waist, punishing me with each thrust.
I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you push yourself off the bed so you can look at my changing expressions,
My legs wrapped strong around your waist and watch me melt, slowly dying into your body.
I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If your nibble turns to a bite, and your bitch turns to a whore.
If you take it up a notch, surprising me every second, reiterating, “I’ve never known a time like this, and none that follow will match this.”
I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If once I let out my primal scream, I can watch your body tense until you melt and fill me with you.
I want you to let me see you at your weakest. Bare yourself to me.
Uncaring of time, indulgence is all that exists.
I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you lick my bruises, and let me soothe your wounds,
Murmuring loving, doting nonsense that only you and I can understand.
I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you let me take my time to look into your eyes to try and fathom what we’ve shared.
Let me watch you look at me, and see you frown at my questioning gaze.
Kiss me reassuringly; this was not just one night.
“Yes, I’ll Be Your Bitch (Behind Closed Doors)”