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Sensuality is different for all of us - no two seeing, feeling, wanting or writhing in the same way or the for the same reasons.
For some, it’s a feather soft union of two bodies rhythmically entwined, purring and sighing into that blissful bright light. They’re right. It is.
For others, it takes a firm control over the boundaries of their fantasies … a tightly bound exploration of the limits of their obedience to their own passions as distilled through the power play with one who guides them beyond themselves. They’re right. It is.
For others yet, it is the exploration of the extremes of sensational, psychological and emotional control lashed through their sexual souls through pain and pleasure. They crave the rough hewn ecstasy of hand, belt, crop or lash, of dripping heat candling their flesh, of the nearness of fear and fever at the edge of blade. They’re also right. It is.
What links them is the guide, the ying to their yang, the soft touched lover to their rose hued fantasies, the confident dominance of the master to the sub, or the coolly loving cruelty sought by a pain slut.
Many never go beyond themselves, deeply delve into themselves, release themselves to the power possible within their own capacity to feel heat rather than warm fuzzies, fire instead of glowing embers, ecstasy instead of only pleasure.
As well, no one is one dimensional – the most demanding pain slut craves a soft caress. Too many dom/dommes stay so uni-dimensional – too stuck in their own obsessive tunes to play the orchestra of the sub’s gift.
For caress to crop, if you have the range, I’ve been there and want to go back there with you. To me, it’s a gift to be cherished and deeply respectfully and totally explored.
Let’s talk about your passion, your needs, your keys to ecstasy. Let's talk about going beyond ourselves. Let's go there.
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a small tale to share - - -
One side, one dimension ...... of many other possibilities ........
She couldn’t get it out her mind. The scent of him kept coming back to her, unbidden, urgent, demanding. It was all she could do to get through the seemingly endless drivel of work and meetings and phone calls and meetings and, shit, there in the midst of some tedious report, he would be there - raw, powerful, reckless as they fell on and then off the bed, entwined in sheets and each other. The musk of him just wouldn’t go away.
She needed a drink. She at least had to sit down, so she drove to the neighborhood bar near her house. It was the kind of tousled vinyl, wood and neon beer sign place that always seemed to have the same faces no matter which bar or which city you found it. This particular bar was on a busy street that closed the meters during rush hour, so she turned into the parking garage a half a block south. She undid a button on her blouse and unclipped her security pass as she checked her face in the mirror. She did this more out of habit than any sense of meeting anyone. It was a work is over ritual.
Finally satisfied, she slipped out of the car and opened the back door to tuck away her laptop case out of sight, reaching in to toss the car blanket over it. As her fingers let go of the blanket, she felt herself grabbed and lifted into the back seat by strong powerful hands. Fear gripped her harder than his hand in her hair or the one over her mouth. Panic set in and she thrashed, however uselessly against the weight on top of her. Already she could feel his excitement as he crushed her against the backseat and knew this wasn’t about robbery.
And then that scent came back. Not hidden in the back of her mind, teasing her with wet memories, but real, harshly male and warm in her mouth, on her tongue.
“Not a word”, he said, quietly and deliberately as he removed his hand from her mouth. She could see his hand as he pulled it from her face, remembering its lines and its look against her flesh last night. Fear drained from her leaving behind a razor edged lust that took her breath away.
He still held her down harshly face down on the seat a powerful grip in her hair as he pulled up her skirt and pulled down her panties. He wasted no time entering her and began the rhythmic powerful thrusts that had shook her last night. She was aware of the open door, the bouncing car, of cars passing by, the sound of steps on the concrete of the garage. She didn’t care. She couldn’t care. She was only truly conscious of his weight, his grip and the pounding insistence of his cock as his hips slammed against her ass. She didn’t even realize she was screaming her orgasm until his hand clamped over her mouth as she felt him explode into her. |
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