Although I practice Internal Enslavement, my entrancing eyes often seem enough to bind. Words alone could not be adequate to explain this or why you are here reading. For that, I would need a small wooded lake under the starry sky. You would be tied up in view of the fat crescent moon shimmering off the waters, lashed clotheless to the dock at just the right height for the small freshwater waves to tease your labia with rhythmic splashing. At first this alone would be an extravaganza of sensation. However, soon an absence would overtake your every thought as wildfire-- the absence of my footsteps on the craggy old planks of the dock. Straining your ears for them, the symphony of waves and crickets would become deafening, as I planned it so. Wonderment turns to questioning--what could he be up to? Is this a real punishment? Did I forget an appointed task or offend this week and not know it? Questioning turns to mild panic--He's going to leave me here. God, for how long? What if I am still here come morning? What if people see this? And just before panic turns to acceptance, you feel something brush your leg under the water. A fish? Better hope it's not a old fishing line with rusty hooks, or worse: a water moccasin. There it is again! For a spilt second it feels like something crawling up, like every fear rolled into one, until firm warmth reveals it to be my hand. For minutes seeming like hours your body would be a tactile playground under my touch, teasing the last afteraffects of the adrenaline. And as my empathy for your sensory overload would peak, I would have no recourse but to lower your restraints into the waterline and take you forcefully with a passion and depth unfathomable. If you found your heart skipped a beat, then perhaps you will find more in sending me a note.
1/1/2014 12:53:17 PM
Happy New Year! I tend to travel, so my listed location may change to suit from time to suit where I am or where I may be headed...
