Touch. A hand gliding over naked skin.
A body, pressing into your back. A fist,
gathering your hair, twisting it. Tight.
Tighter. Wrenching your head back.
There are no fingers wrapped around
your throat, but you feel them.
A phantom chokehold. Clamps pinch
tight on your nipple. Like teeth,
biting down. Constant. Throbbing.
Like a pin through the heart
of a butterfly. Ropes, holding you
in a tight embrace. You're safe, here,
in my arms. The cool leather of
the spanking bench against your
heated skin. Soothing. Calming.
A vibrator. A hundred kisses
at a thousand miles per hour. A tongue,
lapping and lathing and loving.
Nerves endings set on fire. Pleasure,
and pain. Strokes to lean into, slaps
to reel from. Every touch building
to something. A symphony. And then,
hyper sensitive. Sweating. Spent.