Listening Blindly | Episode 4| “Opus 9” by Dustin O’Halloran

Listening Blindly is a writing project that connect the emotion of a song with the visual of a story. Each story is written as if the song is playing inside the story while it happens—the characters can hear it.

Turn the volume down, press play, and sink in.

A twist of knots and loops holds me to the kitchen table. She’s eyeing something — maybe the knives, I hope. Holding both ends of the rope in one hand like the reins of her horse, she balances on the tips of her left toes and reaches for a wooden spatula that I wish were just one fraction of an inch out of reach. God fucking dammit.

She’s a ravenous thing. Always thirsting for more and throwing fits when she doesn’t get enough. She likes to be fucked — hard. And if I come too early she forces me back inside of her regardless of whether or not I can sustain an erection. She makes huge messes and doesn’t bother to clean herself up. After I convinced her how wet she gets is actually a huge turn on for me, she’s run with it — and blames me for the crime scenes we create. But I can’t blame her. My eyes roll back in my head and I reincarnate as some type of demon when I feel her melting on top of me.

She ties the ends off around my balls, probably to encourage me not to squirm, and then runs her newly attained weapon softly up my tattooed skin, past the words “you,” and then “me.”

She slaps me hard in the face and giggles as I recoil. She grabs my cock in her hand and mounts me. I’m as helpless underneath her as a penned bull waiting for the gate to open. She smacks me hard in the chest, once on either side, and then runs the back of the spoon softly from the side of my neck, down my chest toward my stomach. She slides herself down on top of me and envelops my cock while I try to think about anything but her. I’m already way too fucking turned on. She rides me up and down, grinds her pelvis into me around and around as hard as she possibly can—deeper and deeper. She drops her riding crop and reaches for my throat and chokes me while the ropes clench around my balls. I flex my back, naturally pushing my hips harder into her, causing her to lose track of the world around her and choke me even harder.

I’m near the point of blacking out, and coming, when she finally gives me a break for air. She slides down in front of me and sucks off the leftovers (the only way she’ll actually clean up after herself) and stands up over the top of me. She asks me if I want to come. I nod my head yes and she grabs one of the kitchen knives from the magnetic rack. My balls would be in my stomach at this point but on this occasion they physically couldn’t since they are tied to a table. She strides over and stands beside me. She slides the tip of the knife from my throat to my cock and then proceeds to remove my shackles by slicing the the ropes off of my balls.

All of my common sense has exited my mind. I fly out of my ropes and grab her by the throat. I pry the carving knife from her grip and throw it into the wall. She grabs my wrist with both hands as I pick her up by her throat and set her back onto the kitchen table. She falls backwards as I pull her thighs into me and I stare her dead in the eyes.

“May I come now?” I say. She nods her head—and I slip my cock back into her.

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