Wednesday, 13 July 2011

In His hands

They are His hands.
I have no control over them or what they do, nor would I want to.

They are His hands.
He has held me with them, touching, caressing and hugging me with them, from the moment he came through the door.
He has gently steered me with them, guiding me to my knees, positioning my own hands, my body, my mouth for His enjoyment.
He has held the glass with them, pouring wine from the bottle I chilled, placing the rim to my lips, controlling the liquid seeping into my eager mouth.

They are His hands.
He has taken me over His knee and warmed my flesh with them. The gentle rhythm of his slaps setting the bouncing orbs of my bottom aglow.
He has inflamed my desires with them, as well as my impertinent cheeks.
He has asserted His dominance with them, over my body and over my mind.

They are His hands
He has tied the blindfold with them. The purple silk blocking my view of the world, heightening my senses.
He has poured the luscious oil with them, soothing, stroking, massaging, till my body shines.
He has relaxed me with them, till I am drifting, floating: all else melting away to nothing.

They are His hands.
He has unzipped his black travelling bag with them, and carefully chosen an implement from amongst His sex toys in its hidden realms.
He has stroked me again with them, maintaining my dreamy state, so happy and relaxed I barely wonder what the item of His choice will be.
He has worked His magic with them, and I am under His spell.

They are His hands.
He has been moving towards this moment. His mind already had this journey planned, trustingly I follow the guidance of them still.
He has carefully adjusted the speed with them, my senses heightened, I hear the buzzing before I feel the touch.
He has placed the tip against my mound with them, and now it is his latest toy that sends sensations through my body.

They are His hands
He has me writhing in ecstasy with them, so much so that He has to lie across my body, pinning me down, restricting my movement to a minimum.
He is skillful with them, His iron grip holding me firm so that He finds the exact spot that He seeks.
He is persistent with them, never satisfied with the first orgasm He takes me beyond, until my whole body is on fire for Him, my mind consumed by the convulsions of my body.

They are His hands
He plays my body with them, He is the conductor, His baton the g-spot vibrator that He wields in His hands.
He plays my body again with them, my moans, my thrashing limbs, my tears reaching a crescendo at His command.
He stills them, a brief pause: the rest beats as much a part of the composition, the silence holding as much tension as the melody.
He moves them again, draining every last drop of moisture from my intimate places, every last shudder from my exhausted body.

They are His hands
He traces the dryness of my lips with them, strokes my trembling flesh with them, slowly, gently, he enfolds me in His arms with them, and we are one.

Our journey is always in His hands.
It is His hands, and what He holds within them, that make me come alive.

Velvet  <3

Saturday, 2 July 2011

I want to scream!

It's not that I haven't seen Him, it's not that He hasn't trained and disciplined me. It's not that He hasn't complimented me on how well I am progressing nor that He hasn't taken me over His knee and spanked me ... hard. It's not that He hasn't bound me with His ropes, pulled tight so that the marks fade slowly over the coming day. It's not that He hasn't clamped my nipples and my labia ... so hard that I almost orgasm on the spot.

It's not that He hasn't used me, played with me, toyed with me, exploring and owning every part of my body. It's not that He hasn't brought me to orgasm or that He hasn't held me in His iron clasp and made me cum again and again until exhausted and drained I collapse against Him. It's not that I haven't had the chance to sit at His feet and rest my head against His knee until He wishes me to serve Him again.

I have had all that... and more... and delighted in every second of it. I love Him deeply. I have sought in vain for a word to describe the way I feel more strongly: 'love' does not seem to touch the breadth and scale of how I feel. It is too small a word, just one sylable to describe emotions that are impossible to contain within my body; that spill over and shine out through my eyes and face: a radiance that even a passerby cannot fail to notice.... and yet I have a deep craving for more...

It has been promised in the past and I know it is to come, but I need it now! My body, my very being, is pent up and needs the cathartic release. I feel out of sorts with the world. I need to dance and writhe for Him, I need to scream and cry and sob for Him, I need to be in that place where pain and pleasure explode together and nothing else exists. I need His whips and canes and flogger...

For now the screams are silent in my head. He will decide. It will be when the time, the place, the state of mind are right for Him. I trust Him. He knows me better than I know myself, when it is right for Him, then it will be right for me too... I know that: I tell myself a hundred times a day, but right now... I JUST WANT TO SCREAM!

Velvet <3
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