Hush. I don’t want you to make any sound. None at all. If you do you will spoil this moment. This is not a time for noise, of any kind. Yes, I admit I normally like you to be making some sound. Whether it is your words of admiration, your scream of terror, your murmurs of delight, your shouted anger or moans of passion. All the noises which you make for me are welcomed, so long as you coat them with your feelings. I do not care for bare comment, neutral and anodyne, that does nothing for me and may even harm me, but you won’t do that for me will you? You do not want to hurt me, ever, do you? You are not like that. Your kind are not like that, you care and you love and you give. No, no, stay silent. You have no need to speak. Just lie there. Be still. I want to allow my eyes to roam over your naked form as you lie there next to me, exposed, vulnerable. I know you are looking at my eyes, I can sense it. My gaze is not meeting yours at the moment though as I am allowing my eyes to slowly move across you. I regard your toes, pointing upwards, bare and free of varnish. You rarely apply such gloss to them but you do ensure they are clean, cut and presentable. I know you can see me looking at them. I know you are wondering whether I am going to lower my wonderful mouth to them and suck them or bite them. I am not going to do either of those things but you are uncertain. I can tell that you are because your apprehension is flowing from you and I am drinking that in. That tiny shudder you just gave was not from the cool air that permeates this twilight space. No, that was indicative of the apprehension which has taken hold of you. I know you are stood at a fork in your mind. I know what you will be thinking. I know because I make you think this way, why else would I do it? I do it for control. I control everything about you. You stand at that fork wondering whether I will lead you down the line to explosive pleasure or down the dark road towards hurt and pain. You have no idea which it will be because as you have come to learn these last few months, I am capable of both. Should you feel excited? Should you feel nervous? Which is to be? Hush now, do not speak. Oh I know that you want to speak, you cannot help yourself. You want to ask. Always the questioning isn’t it? Ask, question, query, challenge and so forth. Not now. You want the answer but you are not getting that answer. Not yet. I make a gentle shushing sound. Is it a noise of reassurance, that which the doting mother provides to the new born offspring or is the noise of patronising chastisement, treating you like a child? You do not know. How I revel in your confusion. I know you are looking at my face desperately looking for some kind of clue, some hint, some acknowledgement of what is going on in my delinquent mind. You are denied. My face is frozen, mouth set straight, brow neither raised or furrowed, eyebrows unyielding and then there are my eyes. You cannot see yourself anymore in them. I have stopped that for the time being. Usually you get to see exactly what you want to see in them. Whether it is joy, hope, love, passion, excitement, intrigue and so much more. You are only seeing what I know you want to see because I reflect from these eyes what is showing in your eyes. You do not look upon me. You look upon yourself. That has changed tonight. Now two impenetrable black orbs are all that you can see. The place where you usually lose yourself has become lost to you. You will find no succour for you there. You will find no reassurance or indication of what is about to happen. That is hidden from you now.

You make to issue a further sound and a shake of my head halts you. My fingers trace the red weal on your thigh, the pads of two of my fingers running either side of this mark. Another shudder and I can sense you are desperate to speak buy hush my dear, hush my love, this is not the time for speaking. I know you will wonder why my fingers trace this mark. Am I soothing you or reflecting on its origin? You have no idea have you? I allow my fingers to move upwards across the tender flesh of your thigh. Is it now that it will happen or will I wait? You lift your left thigh in anticipation and I continue to allow my fingers to drift northwards. I hear your intake of breath and know that again you are making so as to speak. My hand leaves your thigh and I place one finger against your lips. The gesture clear and unmistakable. The moment where you might have broken the silence passes and I wait and wait a while longer before I move my finger away. Your body beside me is ramrod straight as you are unable to relax, every nerve-ending alert and bracing itself for whatever comes next, whatever that might be. The outside of my hand brushes your soft cheek, your impressive complexion noticeable even in this half-light. A cheek that sometimes glows red from the consequences of my endeavours. Is it the glow of shame which will coat your cheek? Is it the surge of a passionate flush that will linger there? Or something else?

Now I look at your eyes and this is when I begin to derive the true benefit from this enforced silence. My eyes convey nothing. Yours tell me everything. They flit back and forth, scrutinising my face for some kind of signal, some kind of sign. I am not transmitting. I am only set to receive and receive I do as I drink in the earnest anxiety flooding from your eyes. I see the attempt to mollify me as you allow those beautiful, expressive eyes to reach out to me. I see the look of apprehension cut through the attempt as the nervousness returns. You are obedient now. Remaining silent, my repeated exhortations, soft and low, for you to remain silent have been heeded. Now you are trying to speak to me using your eyes and you are doing so magnificently. The lack of noise, the absence of speech, now makes the emotions in your eyes a hundred times more intense. I absorb those feelings which flood from your eyes. I drink them in, consuming them for my own benefit. This is why it works so well. Complete control of you as you lie there, still, unmoving on the bed, slight and occasional tremble from your limbs as you wait in conflicting anticipation for what may come. What will it be this time? How will I deal with you? There can be no spoken protestation, no elucidated request for confirmation, only this continuing silence, punctuated from time to time by my hushing you.

My eyes remain locked on yours as my left hand once again begins to glide about your body. The lightest of touches which glides from throat, to breast and to stomach. Back and forth moves my hand, like some wizard commencing the gesticulations for his spell-casting. My spell is already working as you remain frozen, barely daring to move, only allowing your chest to rise with your breathing and your eyes to dart left and right, still probing, still seeking those answers.

Hush my darling, hush my dear, hush my love.

My hand rises and then clamps over your mouth.

Your eyes widen. Fear and excitement fighting against one another and all the while giving me what I need.


Now it begins.



74 thoughts on “Hush”

  1. I’ve experienced this moment numerous time when reading this I heard his voice snarling his favourite “line” “you’re so much prettier when you don’t talk, shhhhh.”
    Knowing what I know now from reading HG I still would play this game all over again… even knowing there is no possible way I could ever win. There’s something erotic yet eery about the quiet game. I’ll probably text him or make an indirect Facebook post and await for this cycle to start all over again. I have this theory HG uses these post to trigger narc “victims” such as myself, either way thanks for another good post. 😉

  2. This is absolutely disgusting and revolting a homage to domestic violence both previously and to come there is nothing sexy about this its purely vile and repugnant

  3. If any man ever left welts on my thigh I wouldn’t be naked in his bed ever again except for one reason and that would be to pull a Lorena bobbit on him


  5. It’s always interesting to read the comments when you post this one. I guess it depends on your personal point of view and experiences. Some find it erotic and some terrifying.

      1. HG,
        I just had the opportunity to listen to you narrate this. Wow. Reading it is one thing, but wow.
        Is it typical to find this both terrifying and erotic? I know there are mixed reviews here, but damn it all, this took my breath away! Powerfully intense!
        Do you have anymore like this?

      2. Terrifying erotica is one reaction. You should look out for the collection of terrifying erotica which I am writing at present.

      3. Sounds good. Will you be releasing an audiobook version. The writing is excellent (even if you disregard the context your writing is poetry) , but you bring it to spine tingling life. Ever consider a carreer as a narrator? Your voice is incredible.

      4. Audiobooks are planned, yes, it is a matter of finding time to do so. Thank you for your kind comment about my voice, I have had some embryonic discussions with regards to voice over and narration work, so we shall see.

    1. I agree SW! You get responses of excitement, fear or some in the past have been downright ready to throw their panties at the screen

  6. Why do i find the situation damned exciting?
    I understand exerting control over another Human being is a disordered behaviour.
    I fought so much against MY NARC in order to make him understand i was not his own PROPRIETY.
    Anyway in a sexual context i would play the GAME and support dominance and control over me.
    Even if i have to admit mine was more controlling during daily routine and activities rather than Sex.

  7. …playing with fear indeed….
    there is nothing more threatening , frightful , terrifying ,paralysing than the knowledge that someone very close to you can destroy you even if he/she does not carry it out…

    1. Very wrong.

      Rule 13a – “Thou shalt not reference the abomination that is that which has been “written” by E L James”

      1. Hahaha. More spewed than written according to those who advised me not to even attempt them.

      2. Fifty shades is cheesy cheesy. I cringe when i see the adverts for the movie.
        Hg’s work is not sugar coated but truth. Its not a bunch of fairytale bs.
        When i look at fifty shades it makes me angry bc it conditions women to think its sexy to be emotionally abused. Its the very opposite and its lies. Again bs. The me, you, them article above sums it up. Hollywood glamorizing nacissistic abuse. You cant change a narcissist they themselves have to change.
        I wont spend a cent on those books or the movies bc to me it conditions women already with weak boundaries to hook up with one of these types and thinks its oh so romantic. But i can change him lol …no you cant!
        Hush i like bc its erotica but to me its fantasy only. Depending on how you read it it can be taken several different ways. Some find it ominous and scary. I look at it as a form of art.

      3. You should give the rules first.
        How is she supposed to know the rules 😉
        If she breaks them without knowing than she is innocent.
        When we break the rules while we know then it is disobedience.
        And we know what will be next.

      4. If you take 50 [**CENSORED**] and take away the money and change the setting to a trailer park you have a whole new season of Law & Order SVU… However, have you seen Fifty Shades of Black? The parody is almost as hilarious as the notion that emotional abuse goes hand in hand with BDSM. You can have all the mental anguish without the whips and handcuffs. Just get involved with a narcissist!

      5. Agreed! Fifty [**censored**] is complete rubbish! I tried to read a chapter of the first book and the writing is horrible! Worst kind of literature! You’re way better HG and I will admit I too read this post of yours as erotic. Sexual dominance and game playing can be arousing and has nothing to to with being abused usually.

      6. Hello everyone who replied to my comment,

        Yes, I know that whose name we won’t mention is rubbish. Anyway, what else can you expect from a novel that started as Twilight fanfic…? I was merely pointing how arousing this post was for me.

        I agree the novel glorifies abuse, has a 7th grade vocabulary (if one may call it ‘vocabulary’ at all), portraits a mentally ill couple with severe ‘mommie issues’ and a deeply rooted Cinderella Complex that’s everything except empowering to women. Still, it has already sold over 80 million copies only in the US – the same nation that elected Donald Trump. Coincidence, maybe? I don’t think so.

        I live in Brazil, a country that, wherever you go, you can spot at least four women reading it avidly on the bus, on the train, waiting on the line to grab lunch, etc., because we have a strong patriarchal/misogyny culture and women often see stalking as ‘proof that he cares about me’. Also, it is a country in which a woman is raped every 8 minutes and another is killed every 12 minutes. Coincidence, maybe? Again, I don’t think so.

        Just out of curiosity, is it me or narcs have a craving for BDSM? Just before I tried to escape the first time my nex was putting a huge pressure on me to consent in accepting roleplays I wasn’t comfortable with. Well, in the end it all involves letting go of control and power exchange, so it makes sense perfectly.

        PS. Thank you Lisa, I want to hire you as my attorney! <3

      1. Thank you. How do you feel about sleeping with a virgin? Is it something that would fuel you more or maybe not? The fact that she is so in love with you and you are her first and she could sleep with anybody but chose you?

      2. The virgin’s responses may well provide a greater quantity of fuel than a non-virgin, but the difference would not be hugely significant. There would however be more opportunities arising for gaining fuel, thereafter, as a consequence of taking the virginity.

      3. Re: Virgins

        Not to mention the shit you could pull on her under the guise of “normal” activities and the reactions she would have.

        Sadly I think one would have to go jail-worthy in age now just to find one.

    1. Mambo No. 5 ( a little bit of…) HG style

      I like Carolyn, SuperXena, MLA, and Bibi
      And as I continue you know they are getting sweeter
      So what can I do I really beg you my Lord
      To me is flirting it’s just like sport, anything fly
      It’s all good let me dump it please set in the trumpet

      A little bit of Catherine in my life, a little bit of NarcAngel by my side
      A little bit of Bubbles is all I need, a little bit of narcaffair is what I see
      A little bit of strongerwendy in the sun, a little bit of Carol M all night long
      A little bit of Bobbi here I am, a little bit of you makes me your man

      1. Excellent idea, Bobbi! HG can Tango with an empath then switch partners throughout. It would represent the metaphorical “dance with the narcissist” that we have all been through.

      2. Ha ha.. K, you’re hilarious and I love it. We’ve all danced to this tune before; here we do it while safeguarding our hearts!

      3. Thanks, Catherine!
        After reading HG’s response to Carolyn, all I could think about was all the ladies/”friends” he had on the side and Mumbo No-5. came to mind!

    2. Narc Angel, you would be surprised! Actually, there is a Dating Site named Asexualitic with a lot of unexperienced and virgin aces. And guess what? A lot of covert narcissists hunting for naïve empaths there too!

  8. Total freedom through total surrender. Delicious. A dangrous place for an empath maybe… or is it?? My narc ex used to sleep with his arm outstretched and his fingers curled around my throat. I liked it. Thing is, I’ve felt this way since I was 15. The Greeks said “Know Thyself”… and we must try I suppose.

    Thank You HG. Again, and on the daily, Thank You.
    Thank You for daring us to look starkly into the mirror at ourselves as You have had the courage to do. ❤️🔥✨

      1. HG I would have disappointed you this morning, as I woke screaming to an excruciatingly painful charlie horse in the lower half of my leg.

        So much for staying hushed.

    1. Youre welcome,

      I thought i wil help you with the rule 13 a.
      Because i think you putt youre behind in a warzone with 👉👤
      And you where so innocent 🐑
      I must protect you.

      1. Thank you again, Lisa! I am far from innocent, though. I just don’t want to ignite Your Majesty’s cold fury with a foolish comment ever and risk losing my seat on His privileged court. Cheers <3

  9. We have ducklings. They are about three months old, and the females are just finding their voices. Female ducks are very loud, and they talk a lot before they are fed, presumably because they are hungry. I also think they talk because they are happy to see us. They associate being fed with us, so why wouldn’t they be happy to see us? But admittedly, it is an obnoxious sound. My narc almost killed one the other day because he was angry that it was quacking. He threw the feed cup at its body, hit its head instead and knocked it silly. He was mad at a duck because it was quacking. Let me repeat that: He was mad at a duck for quacking. How is that for “erotic hushing?” I picked the poor thing up and gave it some healing energy and it is fine now. Please all you narcissists and empaths, look in the mirror at yourselves. You need the Boulder to come and flatten you so you can gain some sanity.

  10. This is all well and good for fantasy and you could arouse me reading the phone book, HG. As such, I’ll definitely be an avid reader/listener of your upcoming erotica works. However, in real life, my submission comes with strings attached; such as trusting that the person to whom I relinquish control has only my pleasure and best interests in mind. We all know narcissists don’t do strings attached and this would be terrifying in a real life situation with such a predator.

    1. HG,
      I totally agree. You should read the phone book. I think I can borrow a copy of the phone book for New York City….
      All joking aside, MB, there’s ALWAYS strings attached when dealing with narcs. The strings are what keep them jerking us around like puppets.

      1. I enjoy providing positive fuel. I would gladly give it from now to eternity. Negative, no! If only things could be different…


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