To My Submissive Lover

I am numb, I am singing, I am happy, I am smiling, I am laughing, I am, I am, I am……

Hmmm……yes! Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Oh so very yes.

It is so beautiful to feel, to experience, to receive such pleasure.

How did an hour go by in five minutes? How can it be? I don’t understand. If you’d stayed for two hours would it have been ten minutes?
I am under the influence, intoxicated with the sweet essence of your sensuality. I’d be arrested for driving. I’m not even sure I can walk.

I feel selfish. Like I took took took as I gave in to the greed of my senses. You are so kind. I shall remember. On Sunday when we are together again, I will remember.

In the midst of the pulsing, grinding movements, the exchange of passion, the heat, the sweat, the moans, the consumation of deep desires…..we smile, we giggle, we laugh ….softly at first so as to not break the flow….then openly and uncontrollably as our joy melds into one.

If it had continued, I would have cried. Tears of joy, of gratitude would have flowed so freely. My soul would have opened.

Thank you. Thank you for being you. Thank you for sharing this time with me.

Later:

I am a feathered pillow, a marshmallow, a cloud. I define softness.

My mind is with you. You took it with you when you left. I no longer have it. You can keep it. I no longer need it. All I feel is softness. I don’t need to think any more.

How can I Dom you? How? I don’t know! How can I possibly discipline and command when my edges are buttered?

Cups….I went to buy cups, styrofoam cups, 16 ounce styrofoam cups, the largest they sell. If there were larger I would have bought them. Cups for water, water for ice, ice for your body.

I have not shown you my whip. My bullwhip. I should give it to you and let you touch my body with it. Perhaps we might fly.

I would let you tie me right now. Tie me and touch me with a blade. I’d feel safe no matter what you did.

I am gone, but I shall return. And oh, little girl, I will be looking for you. Yes. You could not possibly find a place to hide. There are none. I will have you.

Tomorrow:

The reverie has escaped. I tried to cage it, to bottle it, to hold it, to caress it but when I allowed life to begin again, it flitted out the window in search of one more worthy than I.

I was you and you were me. You were a man kissing a woman. I felt it, I felt what you feel, the subtle fear and the comfort of surrender. I am strengthened. I know you and you know me.

Everything we do in life, even love, occurs in an express train racing onward to a final destination we know nothing of. To know passion it to get out of the train while it is still moving.

Our pleasures will be deducted from our shares in Paradise. I give mine most willingly to sin most wickedly with you.

Children possess the magic power of being able to change themselves into what they wish. Lovers regain this power.

Our play is real. With you I need no mask. With you I need not hide. I am childlike. Open without fear, I want to relearn, to reexperience, to reprogram myself. I have to find, among other things, a new word for my life, I am tired of the old one.

I cannot touch you enough. My fingers, my hands, can never be satiated.

I watch you. For nothing, absolutely nothing is as beautiful to me as the glow of pleasure flowing from your burning body.

I want to watch your lips moving on me. To see the candlelight reflecting in the wetness which your strokes leave upon my shaft. To feel the passion of your mouth as your tongue slides upon me. To feel the warmth that you feel as you pleasure me. To touch and run my fingers gently and slowly through your soft hair as I accept your submission.

Sweet girl, I ache to touch your skin, to feel the curves of your body in my grateful hands. To see the subtle smile on your lips as I look deep into your eyes. To taste you. To feel the heat and sweat of our bodies mixing as we grind against each other. To kiss your mouth while you kneel. To give you the experience of my Domination.

Sunday:

Sandalwood, vanilla, cinnamon candlelight, Billie Holiday, blankets on the floor, frankincense, pillows strewn about, a hassock covered with caribou fur. Soft black leather whips, steel cuffs, feathers, fragrant oils, ice and strawberries. Will you join me on this journey?

I will make you do exactly what you want to do.

The commands are issued with an authoritative sternness that makes you quiver with anticipation. as you feel the ache of desire, the vulnerabilty of the position, the surrender of your spirit. And the need…..the need which pulses to life as the dark cravings of the recesses of your soul are exposed. Elbows on the carpet, hands flat, head lowered, shoulders down. Only the ass is high. High and waiting. Awaiting the onslaught of power that will corrupt the virginal purity of the lily white skin so naked, exposed and defenseless. The shockwaves course through your body sending bolts of hot white light to your brain. Reality is melted down to the simplicity of stinging flesh, dripping sweat, and labored heavy breathing. The cries, the whimpers, the “please, please, pleases”. Submission. The pain surrenders to a numbness. The numbness to a warmth. The warmth to a flight high above the Himalayas. Your body sings, smiles, and flies. Five minutes last an hour. The circle of pleasure is complete.