Someone

This piece was inspired by my recent fantasies, during that difficult time when you no longer are able to fantasise about that one person who has been so integral to both mental and physical experiences. I find during this period that I can’t fantasise about particular people, but instead focus on the actions or the happenings, finding enjoyment in that instead, and any others involved become a faceless someone.

I want a someone. A faceless shadow, a shape, an indistinguishable formation of light and dark. I want to feel everything I want to feel, everywhere I want to feel it, and I want all of my itches to be scratched. Not by anyone, but a someone.

I want to be bent over, and to have someone’s hands run down my spine. I want to be called something by a someone: a good girl, a wee thing, a tiny flower. Not just anything. A something by a someone, that means something to that someone.

I want a someone to pull my hair, to yank it upwards to raise my head. Even when I look at them, and take in what I see before me, they will still continue to be merely a someone.

I want to address a someone as something. A something that reminds us of where the power lies, as I’m on my hands and knees, trembling. I want someone to do something to me. Slap me on the arse, spread me, push my face to your cock and fill my empty, desperate mouth. I want someone to do something to me, as someone calls me that something, and their shadow towers over me.

I just want that something- no, I need that something. I need something to fill me, so I can feel useful for something to someone. I’m not sure what. Someone’s fingers, someone’s cock or even nothing at all belonging to that someone. Maybe my glass plug, or a dildo, as someone calls me that something, and I call someone that something in return.

I want someone to make me orgasm, to make me twitch, and scream, and moan for that someone. I want that release, paired with that detachment, as I crumble in front of someone who calls me something, as I shout something to that someone.

Not just anyone, but simply a someone would do.

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  1. Pingback: Share Our Shit Saturday (Saturday-ish) | Jerusalem Mortimer: Between the Lines

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