Lascivious 

The time it takes for the flog to reach the skin feels like an eternity, the ripe anticipation of pain brought on all too willingly by another’s hand.
The cold steel gracing the delicate flesh, the ropes that bind caressing with a forbidden sensation so sweet it does quite more than inflame your heart. 

The fear of such contact, the subtle harshness brought on by the vital sting, will subside in time for it shall be replaced with an exhilaration surpassed by anything ever felt.
The shame of taking the plunge, giving in, exposing a desire so primal, so divine in its duality, will fade into nothingness for such petty things don’t mean a thing. 

The trust that is woven into this love, encompassing every inch, is one that is built on strength and confidence, all the stronger by abiding those rules, sacred in everything they entail.
The rush that is felt with every bright lash left, where every bruise will take its place, is unlike anything ever felt, something that can only fully be explained and realized by those who have beared witness to it. 

Push all that ridiculous bullshit you’ve read aside, the foolish fiction you think you’ve hungered for is inferior compared to the truth that rests within the restraint.
For that bestselling nonsense is mere child’s play in comparison to the magic of the night, the rising heat brought on by a greater way of loving. 

You will never know the true meaning of living until you let go, surrendering all hope, replacing your sorrow and helplessness with the greatest feeling ever conjured.
For in pain is where you’ll feel pleasure, every ounce of frustration, every ounce of apprehension falls away in the throes of a greater kind of trust, a brand new way of loving. 

Fuck your vanilla concept. 

© Copyright November 2016

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