The Velvet Edge The Fire

"Tell me what you are thinking," you say quietly to me.

We are lying in bed in the dark together, we are listening to the rain fall outside. I am curled up against the curve of your body, my head on your chest, my body at ease as I sink into the the heat of your life energy. To speak is to rouse myself from a deep hibernation, but I would never leave you unanswered, so I shake myself to the surface.

"I am thinking of you, Sir. Always of you, Sir."

And it's true. On the edges of slumber, I had been languidly chasing after flickers of various moments together: lying bound and blindfolded on my back at your disposal, your penis filling my throat, the sound of your voice commanding me to orgasm, the look of intense possession in your eyes, the weight of your hands on my body, the heat, the smell, the air of your presence, and how much I love you, how much I adore you, how much I worship you. It seems almost palpable.

"Good girl," you sigh. You begin to stroke my hair. "That is my good girl."

The mere touch, the mere gesture of possession fills me with heat, and I reach under the covers to touch your penis. Half erect, it reveals your own arousal, and I am suddenly compelled to bring you to completion. So I pull back the covers and take your still-soft penis into my mouth, lying at your side, suckling like a kitten. I feel you grow hard, filling me. Your hand goes to my head again, this time to grasp my hair. Again, your deliberation brings a flush to my body. The haze of almost-dreams dissipates from my mind, and as my sexuality is awakened, everything becomes clearer.

You bob my head on your penis, and I open my mouth wide to accommodate the movement, rising to my hands and knees for a better position. You force my face down onto your crotch, and your penis slides past my tonsils into my throat, filling it. I am nearly breathless, but I do not protest, until my throat constricts involuntarily and I gag, knowing that this is one of the many specific things that arouses you. You lift my head up and I release your penis from my mouth, gasping for air. I am allowed only a moment's reprieve before you force my head back down again, and in your hold, I feel myself turn into an object - your object of pleasure.

Suddenly, I feel your hand on my vulva, cupping it, pulling at and spreading my labia. One of your fingers finds my clitoris and begins rubbing it, at first gently and then harder. It isn't long before you press another finger inside of me, and I clench my muscles around you, whimpering as you once again force my head down, my throat filled with your penis, my vagina filled with your fingers as you slide a second one into me. I am filled, not only with you, but with purpose, with meaning, with pleasure. I am yours, completely yours, and as I sink into my submission, my identity flakes away, and my true form is revealed, reborn, pristine and pure.

You pull my hair, releasing your penis from my throat, and wordlessly direct me to lie on my back. This time there is no slow rise to pressure, there is no courtship of power, there is no gentle wade into the water...this time you are going to have me as exactly what I am. I can tell from the look in your eyes that this time, you are going to

fuck

me. As you climb on top of me, stroking your penis, I feel all my hairs stand on their ends, and it is your haste to have me that arouses my animal hunger, wetting my sex. I stare into your eyes - what am I thinking?

Take me. I dare you.

Perhaps in the cave I am many different shadow-shapes flickering on the stone wall. One shape is soft and nubile, transformed to gold within your hands. One shape grovels at your feet like a dog. One shape is no shape at all, but the space that fills yours up. And one shape is the fire itself, burning fast and burning pure, the hot yellow light which casts the shadows, the very raw thing which makes them all...the heat that rises between my legs, the life energy inside of me, the flame that melts your skin to mine.

I feel the fire inside of me now, so bright that the shadows disappear. All is hot white light, and Sir, I am burning for you.

You shove your penis inside my vagina, and I feel the muscles stretch around you, welcome you, grasp you, and I throw my head back to moan. You at once begin thrusting into me, forcing my legs back over my head so that my body is balled up under you as you savagely pound your body to mine, your penis filling me to the hilt, banging my cervix, filling me, hurting me, pleasuring me. We meet, skin to skin, and with my legs pressed to either side of my head, I can see my own vulva and your hips falling onto mine, I can see you slide in and out of me, so close that I am detached, and it's as if I am watching you have sex with someone else, as if I am bound away in a corner as you take another woman, and I am jealous...not because you are inside of her, but because she is simply not worthy, she does not know how to serve you, she does look at you the way that I do, the loving, fearful, adoring gaze of a priestess to her god.

It does not take long for my body to rise to orgasm, and a deliciously warm tension gathers between my legs. As you grind against me, your pubic hair stimulates my clitoris, and if I am not allowed to climax, I feel that I will die. Suspended at pre-orgasm, my whole body is overcome with pain, and yet I will not let go, not until you say so, and I can tell that now is not the time to ask. Now is the time to wait, now is the time to prove my devotion to you, now is the time to prove my power over myself. I know that you know, I know that your penis feels the tightening in my vagina, the way it grips you like a hand, like a gagging throat.

As if to test me, you dig into me harder, and at times, I feel you are shoveling clear my grave. You reach deeper and deeper and I, deprived of release, grasp your arms, digging my nails into your flesh as you press your face to mine. Your eyes are so close that I see double, yet I am staring right into you, into the brain behind your retina. And I can see you in there, I can see you looking back at me, and it is the same sort of terror, the same sort of power, the same sort of withering yet willful trust that I see. It is the same child, opening some forbidden box, peering inside, waiting to be discovered, to be caught. In this moment, we are one.

Harder and harder, and though the sweat beads on your face, you shake your head "No," and I know exactly what you mean. What are you thinking? "Wait for me." I can hear it almost telepathically. "Wait for me. I want to have it with you." But there is only silence, until I am forced to pull a pillow over my face and scream. The energy, trapped inside of me, forces its way out my throat, into the pillow, where it is absorbed into a muffled, dull sound. I scream and I scream into a black hole, my body imploding like a star.

The edge - the velvet edge - I grasp for its warm, soft, black waters. I remind myself to breathe, I force myself to inhale deeply, filling my lungs. Breathe. I exhale, counting to ten, then wait, then inhale - one...two...three...four....

I am floating, I am boundless, I am observing a world that is like coral at night, pinpricks of bio-luminescent light among dark, soft shadows. My body is far away from me, it is almost numb, and I am in my space, safe and sound and free to gaze into your eyes. I desperately reach for your face, touching it, pulling myself to your lips. The taste of you fills my mouth, and it is the nectar of the gods. I drink you like a honey bee. The animal flavor of your saliva, your fluids, your water...the stuff that moves between your organs, the biology that you are made of - I drink it in. At the velvet edge, in my shape of fire, I engulf you.

"Cum!" you command, almost desperately, as your own orgasm electrifies your body, sending you into convulsions of pleasure. I finally let go, and I too shudder and tremble beneath you, crying out, my voice entwined with yours, one song, one harmony, one chord. For a moment there is nothing but white light in my eyes, and the fire of the cave burns us true, erasing our shapes and our shadows until we are nothing but energy fused. I feel you move inside of me, I feel you fill me up, and I grab you with the walls of my vagina, I hold you, I collapse us into one.

We lie together for a moment, breathing heavy, our sweat mingling. It is as if I have been roused prematurely from a dream and my body cannot receive the signals to move from my brain. I lie still, slowly becoming aware of my body again, lifting my fingers, wiggling my toes, I come back to life, a creature near death in winter, now animated by the rebirth of spring.

Your weight has deadened on top of me, and I hold you with my own. You sigh deeply, then, almost regretfully, gather your weight on your arms and lift yourself up.

What am I thinking?

I am thinking of how much I love you, of how much adore you, of how much I worship you. Of how much I live for the way you use me.

"Tell me what you are thinking," I whisper.

You almost laugh, but are too tired to utter the noise.

No need to.

I already know.