"Little Black Book"
Nonfiction, incredibly raw and recent. Trigger warning: a knife is involved, but not used...for harm, anyways.

My life is very typical. Like clockwork, along with the rising sun my husband usually awaits me every morning. Knowing I'm insatiable, when we have the time our morning starts with his hands in my hair and his cock in my mouth. It's always felt good. Hearing him groan always sends my head into a spin and that all too familiar sensation coils in my gut- expectant, but great nonetheless.
Our mornings begin with my name rolling off his lips and him rolling off of mine.

To say that our life was good is an understatement- everything is in balance. Finances, family life, schedules. Everything on time, every day.
You get it.

But when the day is over and the blinds are shut, the blankets raised and I'm all alone whilst he's at work, I dive under the duvet with my books. Books that I can't carry in public. Page after page I unwind, every word hanging onto the bottom lip I pick way too often. And when I can't handle it anymore, my gut filled with the anticipation to be unwraveled over and over every precipace I could ever reach, I tease myself into the heavens. But still,all I do is ache, and ache and fucking ache. My orgasms weren't bad, they were just...empty. Robotic. Like a hurdle to jump before starting and ending my days.
Our sex life has always been good. Just good.

Night after night after reading I usually write in this small black book I have, neatly tucked away behind the rest on our bookshelf. He hadn't touched the thing in months, usually too busy with work and other projects to sit down and read a full page at a time.

But this morning was beyond different than any of ours. I was going to show my dominant side, show how good he could feel if he just submitted to me for once. After our latest argument I had been eager to let go of this tension, and I was beyond eager to prove myself capable of everything on my own. Bills, finances, my heart, my body.

Fuck, I had it all planned out, too. This morning we lied beside each other just like every morning. Like clockwork he was hard and ready to be pleased before the birds began chirping.
For about ten minutes we did the usual. He would lazily grind into my ass, his hands would wander over my curves. And, like clockwork, I would roll over and peek my fingers into the hem of his constricted underwear begging for release.

Not this fucking time.

The moment I felt his hand graze my throat I rolled over to grasp at his instead. Mid-roll I only had a half-assed grab as he caught my wrist and flipped over on top of me, folding my arm behind my back.
"Nuh uh." he laughed, the asshole. My anger immediately rose to my face and stained itself on my neck. "This isn't how it's going to go sweetheart. You'll have to try harder than that." So I did.
I could feel his pent up frustration pressing against me, between my cheeks.
I thrashed myself against the mattress, arching my back like a hastily sprouted flower reaching for the sun. He swooped me into his arms and gripped tighter, his hands digging into my hair where they all too easily found purchase. I was able to stay arched until his palm dug into the curve of my back, forcing me into the bedding even more.
Eating a down-feather pillow was not what I had planned. I could feel his heat even closer now, his underwear damp with precum seeping out, and in return dampening my skin.

"Atta girl" he gloated.

"Fuck you." I spat back.
Leaning down he chuckled deeply into my ear.
"Fuck me, huh?"
Another bout of energy swelled up inside of me, and goddamn was I ready to absolutely send it.

My thoughts we're interrupted by coolness meeting my cheek. I turned my head to follow the glint from the corner of my eye.

Oh. Fuck. Me.

With one click the blade screamed from its case, the wind cascading dangerously close to my skin.
My pussy wept along with me.

My body stilled, and he guided the knife down my body.

"Jugular..." he whispered.
"That pretty, pretty little neck..." god no, he couldn't, he wouldn't.
The knife cascaded down my body until he reached just beyond my breasts, my husband carefully taking inventory.
"Abdomen...intestines, soon to be rearranged."
Fuck, part of me felt genuinely afraid of his intentions- the fuck did this come from? Another part of me waited, anticipated what he would do next.
Finally the metal stopped at the lace of my panties.

"And that perfect, tight, warm cunt that I know for a fact is weeping for me."
I hated that he was right. This wasn't how any of this was supposed to go.
In a way...I liked it, even though I was well and truly pissed.
A piece of my lace gave away. His voice drew closer.

"This can be really easy, baby. We can make this sweet, sensual. But.."
The tip snagged against me, daring to pierce. "Something tells me you don't want it like that. And believe me when I say I dont need this fuckin' thing to make you listen."

Suddenly the quiet was broken by the loud clatter of metal against polished stone.
My lungs once again filled with air, finally not reduced to mere strings begging for oxygen. Before I could utter a response he had ripped my hips from the mattress and positioned himself behind me, ripping my panties from my body. His cock sprung from his underwear, and I had only been given mere seconds before he plunged himself inside of me all at once. My body lurched forward, his hands gripping me tighter to situate me in place.

I'm almost ashamed to admit that I backed against him, and it didn't take long for him to swallow me whole and steal my breath. Giving no breaks, he grunted and began pistoning himself inside and out of my clenching pussy which begged for more. I was well beyond the threshold now, there was no way i was recovering my intentions now.

"Thank me, bitch."
The words spilled from me before I could catch them.
"Th-thank you master, thank you!" With each thrust I could feel the world falling away from me and the ecstacy closing in, coiling in my abdomen in it's tangle. His hands digging into my skin, the fresh bite marks tingling against the cold air, my nipples sore and aching for the pluck of his teeth- all of it was too much, too deep. But fuck, i couldn't let go.

We both reeled over, his mouth encapsulating my neck as he spilled rope after rope of his seed inside of me. Sparing no effort he pushed himself deeper, eager to fill me to the brim.

We both collapsed against the bed, drenched with prespiration and shock. I managed to choke out in between ragged breaths, "Mark..that...that was..."

"Heh," he smirked against my shoulder following with a gentle kiss. "I thought you'd you'd like that."

"What...what made you think that?" I giggled.

"Just a hunch."

It's now 11:32. My diary was not where it belonged. I fear it shall never catch dust again.