The pain catches me by surprise.
Small surges of pain from familiar places.
Pain as memory.
Memory of pain.
I gather it in. I hold it close in a fervent embrace. It comes like a surprise kiss as I shift in my chair, but rather than fleeing, I walk towards it with open arms. I move again, deliberately this time, inviting the pain back. My hand tiptoes to the round, moaning flesh of my bruised buttock where it changes identity from ass to thigh.
I press.
I provoke.
I invoke the pain.
And my pussy sings as it weeps tears of desire.
Written for my sadistic Master
and posted with permission.
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3 comments:
Oh, thank you for commenting on my post. It pointed me here, to your lovely spot.
We have much in common, it seems. :)
xoxo
~Luna
That delicious remembered pain is such a joy to feel again, just once more.
I can't stop touching those sore bits when i have them~
OG, "And my pussy sings as it weeps tears of desire."
Beautiful dear girl, just beautiful.
Love and warm hugs,
Paul.
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