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Candles flicker on a wall of cold, hard rock.
The sounds of chains and buckles echo
in a room of darkness and two figures move inside.
A door closes, a moan of expectation is heard.
He walks past her, lifts one link than another,
suspends them in the air, and watches
as she hovers on an edge of indecision,
waiting, lurking, teetering to and fro
His eyes command her submission.
She walks one step then another until she falls down,
kisses each palm, licks each beating pulse
that drums under his flesh.
The steel snakes around trim wrists and dainty ankles.
Tiny bones covered by smooth satiny flesh
tremble in excitement and trepidation.
Her gaze holds his but a moment, then drops.
A firm grip on a soft chin lifts a face of porcelain glass,
fragile, frail, unique and yet in the end powerfully strong.
She makes him want her with a simple whisper,
a hungry stare, a powerful moan, in the end she holds the power.
She rises up.
His fingers sweep across her face, lifting her hair,
from shoulders that are soon bared to his inspection.
A glint of steel tears a gown of gossamer.
Naked and bare, free of all inhibitions.
His to own, possess, dominate.
Hers to worship, beg, submit.
A whispered caress moves down two globes that have rosy peaks.
Further they go, traveling a path of pleasure
sin, lust, and love.
Willingness allows her legs to spread.
Need allows her will to bend.
He explores dips and crevices no other has touched.
His hand commands her body, her passion, her need.
He owns her and when the fluids release her passion
He gathers them, feasts on the heat of her womb.
He is hers. She is his.