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April 21, 2012

Heart of the Hedonist

The Space Between Us.

I wait.

The space between us, charged, unchanging.

The silence unbroken, save by some ragged breath.

Eons might pass in that calamitous turmoil

of anticipatory dreams.

Breath baited, I grip and pull at my bonds just

to hear the comfort of the creak of wood,

the soft rasp of rope against the grain.

A distraction.

I want.

The space between us, glowing, hot.

Longing too long, I chance a feline lift of hip, and spine;

the arching plea I cannot voice.

Your disapproval, swift and harsh,

opens new avenues of pain to match the ache of wanting.

Retribution punctuated with a flick of the wrist, the slide of your fingers,

stroking, tightening, twisting, tying, brutal sleight of hand.

A warning.

I fight.

The space between us, heated, humid.

My struggle rendered useless

by the ringing echo of your laughter, joyous in your triumph.

Lower now…

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