You run your fingers through my soul and breathe life over my lips. Each touch electrifies my nerves and makes my essence flow from the core of me. You hold my heart in your hands and coax it to beat stronger, fiercer, in the song of life. You lift me into the dance we weave as we travel through our magical, mysterious dance.
Your arms enfold me, press my beating heart to yours. They beat as one.
You arrange me, your sacrificial lamb, marching to the little death oh so slowly. A place you take me many times before reaching your own. I am draped across your knees pale skinned until you bring the fire a thousand fold.
Then comes the rope, pulling me into shapes and the helplessness enfolds me into it’s welcoming arms.
Sometimes leather kisses me and wraps me in it’s fiery embrace. Still my essence flows from the core of me.
One, two, three little deaths and then that place of riding on the breeze. Transported to another place, a wondrous place where all I feel is air. The magical uplifting where I am lost to sensations, drifting on the breeze until you let me down.
You pierce me, powerfully taking me inch by wondrous inch. You call me back so softly until I am back and then you claim me totally. Not softly or fumbling, like a young lover but strong like the man you are.
I whimper first, then cry out to mark our passion, and then I scream. Pain? No. Is it a scream for more? I never know. Over and over the little death embraces me and each time it weakens me and I reach the point when I have nothing left to give. Then you take me there one last time as the little death claims us both.
You carry me to the bed and snuggle me and stroke my hair from my face. I am lost in the space we all long to go to and the after glow stays for a while. All the time you stroke my body, kiss my lips, a list of loving things too numerous to mention. He wants something from me and when I come back to earth, he get’s it.
‘You were amazing, my darling Sir.’
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