Somewhat true but slightly fictional, this is what love letters are like in my mind now …
My Dearest Fucktoy,
You are the most beautiful man I’ve ever had the privilege to love. But, that does not earn you the right to any secrets. In fact, I think love is rather the reason I get to know it all. Yes, love, in all it’s finery and grandness, the same love that inspires the poets and the painters is the reason I probe the depraved depths of your mind retrieving fodder for the wickedness that I grace you with. I’m sure the masses will never agree, but in all honesty, I find their version of love a little dull.
It’s not easy to find the things I can taunt you with because you’re proud and shameless when it comes to the perversions you hold so dear. It is loving you that allows me to see behind the veil of your smile, to see the flicker in your eyes and the squirm in your body. All of which tells me that pride comes before a fall and you will fall, to your knees, at my feet and I will laugh at you, while you worship me and our love will grow ever stronger.
Isn’t it wonderful that we desire each other? That our bodies ache to unite, as flesh meets flesh and muscles tense and bones tremble beneath the earth-shattering orgasms we can create with our mutual arousal. Isn’t it even better that I can use that desire against you? How wonderful that I can see the hard, aching urge you have for me and poke fun at how easy it is to get you there. Lust is such a basic human emotion and still, I can use it to evoke blushes and squirming, all before I’ve even got to the things that make you the dirty boy that you are.
How long is the list now of things you will willingly let me do to you? How many bodily fluids does that list contain? How many acts of depravity that are unspeakable in polite company? I often think of you out in the world, dressed smart, talking to pretty girls and wonder if they could ever guess how eagerly you bend to my will. Could they even begin to imagine that pretty face of yours being fucked by my silicone dick? Or covered in your own cum after I smear it across your face because sometimes even good boys need to be punished.
Do you think of me when colleagues ask how your weekend was? Does your cock twitch beneath your desk as you recall your desperate and pathetic attempts to beg for mercy? Which are all the more humiliation because we both know you don’t want mercy. Stopping is something you pretend to want, being pushed, being edged, being tormented until your eyes glisten and cock loses control, that is what you really want. Knowing you means these are the secrets I get to access. Loving you means these are the secrets I get to you use against you.
My words need only be a whisper, but they can be your undoing. Hot and filthy or sweet and seductive I use them to claim you as mine because they show you I see you, exactly as you are, with the mundane exterior of everyday life stripped away from you. I can tell you how sexy you look with piss in your hair and cum on your face, and you’ll cringe with the truth of it, but your dick will be hard and your heart will be open because you’re my piss soaked boy and I made you that way.
Sometimes though all you want is a kiss, a soft, loving kiss upon your lips as you lie within the confines of my restraints, and I could so easily give you that but it is more fun to force a confession. Ask, whimper, beg for that kiss as your hardon rages but all you want is a simple, gentle sign of affection exchanged between one lover and another. I think pointing that out is my favourite way to humiliate you.
With each and every debauched thing we do I love you just a little bit more, my heart swells, my cunt aches and I want nothing more than to hold you close as I tell you what a dirty, subby fucktoy you are and all the while the only thing bigger than your erection will be my smile.
Eternally and Filthily Yours