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And just as you believe there are limits to what might become real, uyou find out there are not. None in you. And certainly none from me.
Do not get me wrong. I think you are beautiful. I adore each curve, the rise of your breasts, Your hair, full, dark and wild. The full, pink pucker of your lips, the laughter and fear in your eyes. You know this. How many times have you caught me, gazing, my eyes flowing like fiery silk on your every line, hands caressing you like the miracle you are? But your beauty runs deeper, fed by passion, the need to please, all the way to helplessness, and into the dark spaces we both crave.
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This is one of the poems from my banished "The Other Poems" blog. I am always glad when I stumble on one, or find one on someone else's tumblr.
Every time you share a poem, you help me find one of the banned poems, and help me connect with lost connections because of the purge here.
It's the knowing. The certainty. That you will. That you want to. No, need to, move from fantasy to reality, anything, anything at all, to please me.
Perhaps you suspected asking was dangerous, but here you are. Collared. Leashed. Blindfolded. In a strange place. Rustling outside the door. Enough to make you wonder. You hear something mechanical and I tell you. The cameras.
You are dressed beautifully. Made up beautifully. Lips perfect. That too will be captured on camera, as will what is left of you, ravaged, cum covered. So much of you taken less like a lover than an object of desire. Yes, everything captured. Start. Finish. And everything in between. Asking was dangerous.
We took the time. So much of it when we could have been doing.
But instead, we chose intimacy first. Time. Spent. Wisely. Learning
Just how much, and how far. How many and how much you believed you could.
What excites you. What scares you and yet still calls, now that you know fantasies happen.
And now, that time behind you, I know just how far to take you, and a bit beyond.
Love and Surrender
Look at you. All you want. So much more than you imagined possible when you, tentatively and soft admitted you might like.. a little submission. Maybe. Just a bit.
But that is not how it works. You know that now As you surrender a bit, and a bit more still. Baby steps down the rabbit hole to your nature, happiest now
in a place you never imagined, with marks on your skin and marks on your soul and a need to give, and surrender, and belong to me, in ways you never thought possible.
And yet, are, and even more than are, leaving you hungry to fall deeper still, becoming a creature of love and surrender, full of need to become perfect, to know you are enough.
You always were, But now, you know.
Dressed less. Showing more each time I take you out. Feeling eyes on you. Feeling the hunger of strange men, rabid, wild, but nothing close to mine.
Surrendering involves trust, fear, a discomfort as you are exposed further than you ever expected when you began this journey.
I have a weakness for you surrendered
Even knowing what is about to be done to that mouth yet again, you smile. No wonder I adore you.
Sometimes submissive has nothing to do with ropes and chains. There are no harsh commands or red marks left by hands and crops or chains. It is simply staying still as I take you in. Look at you, a woman no one would suspect contains such passion. Savoring each curve and your perfect skin. Knowing all that others cannot see, all that would amaze and scare and thrill them about you
is mine