A Sinful Expression of Kink, BDSM, Sex &Art

Every command is not a thing of pain. At times, I want a gentle surrender. You next to me, dressed or undressed for my pleasure, the collar resting lightly around your neck, a caress instead of the implacable hand slapping hard against your flesh, Your hands, your lips, soft as I insist giving me slowly what I desire more than anything, submission fueled by a hunger to please, your essence, reigned in, controlled with the lightest touch from kiss to climax.

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I am not such a fool as to wonder why you chose me, of all men, to submit your body and soul to.

But neither am I such a fool to do anything but embrace your gift and punish you with the love you crave, and leave my mark where all, and none, can see.

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If they knew the other side of us. If they heard the cries of blissful pain, saw the marks left by the bindings, or more, saw you helpless at my hand, they, those who know your effortless wielding of power in your day to day existence would be undone, 

perhaps less at the submission itself than the fact that no bonds are needed for you to surrender to my every whim.

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I want little more than you next to me,  skin and lace and the love  that is part of your being. 

Your beauty on display as we simply talk,  an old married couple sipping wine but much sexier. 

It may turn to more.  It may not.  But tonight it is what I want from you and you will obey

knowing everything leaves marks,  even gentleness. 

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