My body. My choice. The words rang throughout my generation. They were my first nourishment from a Brave New World, words etched into my concept of woman. Each part of this body called mine, lovingly created by Mother, Father God, knit together in the secret place of my mother’s womb.
My hands, fingers long and elegant, have tended the elderly parent, soothing the fear of what was ahead. They have held the tender, tiny toddler close from harm. They have stroked lovers to pleasure and beyond.
My breasts, full and heavy, have brought succor to infants, and thrills to the tentative, groping hands of a backseat partner- nipples, rosy and sensitive, suckled by those seeking home and peace from hunger.
My sex, hidden from the view of a world that said I should be afraid of its power, is at the core of all that I have called my own. Labia, a velvet set of lips, slick with need, both his and mine combined, provide a glistening entry.
But now it all is His, no longer mine to do with as I see fit. Tending to the most secret of gardens, He finds new ways to stake His claim on me.
My Body, my choice to give, His to design as He decides.
Rule 22: When i am ready – i shall wear His rings to signify my submission to Him – one pierced through each nipple of my breasts and one through each labia of my pussy.
**While this is not part of our current D/s relationship, I certainly respect those who have chosen this or not based on their own particular dynamic. My writing of this piece is merely an interpretation of the rule and not an endorsement or shaming of this practice. **
