Angels may dance on the head of a pin but no one has ever told you that their partners called Chaos are dressed in drab coats disheveled and dirty with drink in hand, barely able to stand as they try to keep up with the music. They fling obscenities to the wind, raucous and rank.
Who invited them to this dance?
Did they come of their own volition or did they receive in the mail a nagging invitation, with promise of delicious Hor D’oeuvres served on a golden plate to soothe a palate knowing only seeming hate.
Jeans pulled down to her ankles…Hours Knees up Thighs slightly parted She thinks of him in the wee hours of the night as she touches lightly between her legs. The sweet spot where he wishes to go, to live if only for a moment. To take her like she wants to be taken in her secret room as she lies on her bed To give him what he wants; all of her. She opens her legs wider to let him take what he wants she turns over and presents her ass. She wants all his gifts. His hard slap on her is the sweetest reward she could...
The door to the bedroom opened and closed as she entered silently without a word. She caught me in the act of struggling at my bonds that she had tied earlier in the night. She had just left me there to lay and wait for her return at her leisure.
“Oh my poor presumptuous Prince,” she said to me, “do you really think I would allow you to come undone? By that of course, I mean your bonds."
"You have a pretty good idea of what I would do. Oh my poor Prince,” she smiled at me patting me on my head like a pet.
“However, I don't want you just needy, I want you begging...