I am collarless
for the first time in years.
I’ve packed away my toys
since they’re not being used
and put band-aids on my
unnecessary heart.
I am slowly healing.
I masturbate instead of
being bound face down,
ass up, gag in place,
while a thuddy flogger
reddens my white skin
and I squirm with arousal.
I need that intensity.
I read stories of love
and bondage and edge play.
I remember, aching,
when I was to you as
grass is to blowing wind.
Now I hide from the wind.
I ache for that lashing.
My hands stroke my breasts,
cupping firmly, playing,
as i wish for other hands,
as my submission simmers
as my restless need flares
again into hot life.
I need a Master’s touch.
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