It’s the heat of your heart pressing against my own when your thoughts have been flooded with images of us painted by my words. Those thoughts ride on the current of that heat across the miles that separate us and burrow into my hungry soul.
It’s my need for your strong arms and profound eyes that warm me; that hold me. And your need to proclaim your place as my hero, my protector. Every cliché that was ever a cliché, until now.
It’s those times when my eyes burn through your soul, melting you in a thousand ways. You’re powerful in a thousand more but your need to be used, marked and owned even stronger. Your wanting and craving to surrender the debased desires of the attached cock that is mine and mine alone. The play toy for my deepest, darkest pleasures. And the knowing I understand, overwhelming your being.
It’s your craving to explore my crop upon your back, my cane across your tender ass. The deep red stripes on your flesh. Your cock under the spike of my highest heel and me looking down at you with eyes of fire, lust and yearning for your pain and dismantling of your fortress. How your presence peels away my nurturing shell and releases a raw hunger to devour you whole.
It’s the glorious look of you naked, bound, tethered and hooded. Nipples clamped and connected to the cord wrapped around your cock and balls. The warm attic lit by candlelight and soft Gregorian chants playing in the background. The clicking sound of the heels of my boots across the wooden floor as I walk around you admiring the sweat shining off your redden, marked skin.
It’s my unzipping, removing the hood and watching your eyes adjust to the dim lighting. The flinching of your muscles as I drag my fingers and nails down your flushed, lined chest and watch you struggle not to move but involuntarily pull up, yanking on the cord attached to your secured cock.
It’s my left hand holding the side of your face, my soul staring into the depths of yours. My heart quickly beating as the warmth of your skin vibrates against the palm of my hand. The countless words, desires and longings shared between us. The moments we chose to create and store away that are ours alone.
These are the thoughts that run through my mind as my right hand lifts and swiftly makes contact with your flesh. The sting vibrating in my palm. Your immediate impulse to defend and strike back. The momentary pull against the rope then surrender to the pain that reaches deeper than the surface of your skin.
The sucking in of your breath as warmth spreads across the cheek of your face.
The wince and your eyes wide staring back at me saying, “Yes…please…again.”