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Splendoured Perversion (collaboration with John Feddeler)
she’s a temptress, yet unaware of it. perhaps.
I’ve lain in beds among whores, with their tattoos, their foul talk. but she is so spotless, so untainted. not of her own accord. her eyes speak it: taint me. it was in her, in her craving flesh, the will to submit. to be lovingly dominated.
her mouth quivers, then closes in defiance. ‘I’m not a slut.’ so says her demeanor. my kiss begins so gently, she feels it isn’t a kiss at all. then I press upon her lips, as I learned it in a Paris bordello, she opens, and her tongue responds to mine.
my hand maps the trek down her back, near, but not rudely on her ass. her fragrant neck upholds under the assault of my mouth; my teeth abrade her shoulder where her strap has slipped.
her desire proceeds with the catch of each breath. my brazen hand indentures her tit, nude under the dress, her nipple excited, elongating to be sucked.
I intrude further, voyaging the pillars of her thighs, unrestricted, to find she is gloriously wet. together, we remove her clinging garment, and I promise her that she will receive what she’s dreamed. on her knees…
On my knees. This is where he wants me - this is where I need to be.
A lone finger traces my cheek, and I could not help but close my eyes to his touch. He makes me shiver. Silk. Blue midnight covers my eyes as I kneel before him - his own Joan d'Arc, he says. He believes in my strength and grace, and I put my trust in his power.
My sight is his.
I hear his clothes fall to the ground. I listen for footsteps - and hear my own heartbeats. I feel my flesh heat. He gives me fever. Skin meets skin as his hand slaps my ass, the unexpected sting welcome and craved.
More, I wanted to say. But this is his dance to lead. How consuming...how freeing.
His hands travel down each of my arms before taking my hands and clasping them on my back. He kisses his way from my neck to my jaw to my ear, a punctuation to each breath on my skin, and his thumb traces my lips.
"Open."
in the course of the night, her dreams were surpassed by the bliss of discipline. she felt the caress of the leather collar & cuffs. she learned the devotion of discipline, repeating ‘Sir’ & ‘yes Yes!’ as she knelt in the shadow of trust. she accepted the ruddy welts on her buttocks, bearing them as badges of merit.
her orgasm was given a name, my name, as she endured the depth of carnal impalement, & moaned hymns to thick seedlings as they poured into her. when it was complete, she cried in her soft way, & my heart wept for the joy of it.
He removes the blindfold. I smile when I see his face - his satisfaction, his pleasure.
"Thank you, sir," I whisper softly, and he gives me a kiss just a soft. I smile against his lips before he pulls away, eyes filled with questions. I do not speak.
But in my head…were loud echoes of what transpired : I was his for a few moments, and his eyes, this man, was mine for a while...
I’ve lain in beds among whores, with their tattoos, their foul talk. but she is so spotless, so untainted. not of her own accord. her eyes speak it: taint me. it was in her, in her craving flesh, the will to submit. to be lovingly dominated.
her mouth quivers, then closes in defiance. ‘I’m not a slut.’ so says her demeanor. my kiss begins so gently, she feels it isn’t a kiss at all. then I press upon her lips, as I learned it in a Paris bordello, she opens, and her tongue responds to mine.
my hand maps the trek down her back, near, but not rudely on her ass. her fragrant neck upholds under the assault of my mouth; my teeth abrade her shoulder where her strap has slipped.
her desire proceeds with the catch of each breath. my brazen hand indentures her tit, nude under the dress, her nipple excited, elongating to be sucked.
I intrude further, voyaging the pillars of her thighs, unrestricted, to find she is gloriously wet. together, we remove her clinging garment, and I promise her that she will receive what she’s dreamed. on her knees…
On my knees. This is where he wants me - this is where I need to be.
A lone finger traces my cheek, and I could not help but close my eyes to his touch. He makes me shiver. Silk. Blue midnight covers my eyes as I kneel before him - his own Joan d'Arc, he says. He believes in my strength and grace, and I put my trust in his power.
My sight is his.
I hear his clothes fall to the ground. I listen for footsteps - and hear my own heartbeats. I feel my flesh heat. He gives me fever. Skin meets skin as his hand slaps my ass, the unexpected sting welcome and craved.
More, I wanted to say. But this is his dance to lead. How consuming...how freeing.
His hands travel down each of my arms before taking my hands and clasping them on my back. He kisses his way from my neck to my jaw to my ear, a punctuation to each breath on my skin, and his thumb traces my lips.
"Open."
in the course of the night, her dreams were surpassed by the bliss of discipline. she felt the caress of the leather collar & cuffs. she learned the devotion of discipline, repeating ‘Sir’ & ‘yes Yes!’ as she knelt in the shadow of trust. she accepted the ruddy welts on her buttocks, bearing them as badges of merit.
her orgasm was given a name, my name, as she endured the depth of carnal impalement, & moaned hymns to thick seedlings as they poured into her. when it was complete, she cried in her soft way, & my heart wept for the joy of it.
He removes the blindfold. I smile when I see his face - his satisfaction, his pleasure.
"Thank you, sir," I whisper softly, and he gives me a kiss just a soft. I smile against his lips before he pulls away, eyes filled with questions. I do not speak.
But in my head…were loud echoes of what transpired : I was his for a few moments, and his eyes, this man, was mine for a while...
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