Tenderness

[Eskiminzin]

In upstairs rooms where have gone to be alone

With the sunlight of the early afternoon

The smell of sex and desperation permeates

Infuses our smallest words, our slightest movement

Becomes the air we breath and a part of us

Or we a part of it.

She watches me through the low glare off the windowpane

My workday bone weariness and the *** of my desire

Which has become my natural state.

It is writ plain upon my face, etched into the surface of my bones

And her stare it might mean anything, everything

Or nothing at all. 

Until her voice breaks in upon our shared silence

A tone of reverence, even awe.

“ You are good slave.” She whispers, “ You know that don’t you?

“ You know I wouldn’t want to lose you…not really. Not forever.

You know that right?”

Tomorrow she will loan my another woman…a fresh chapter in our journey

And I can see that she is still uncertain, torn between desire and her claim to me.

Naked but for the cage I go to her.

To Her that chose me from the multitudes

Who raised me high in sublime filth

Plunged me into the ***ed labyrinths of our private Hell.

To she that owns me lock and key.

She seems so large until I hold her, until I embrace the warmth of her flesh 

Can feel it tremble, goosebumps raised in winter chill..

I hold her close as I promise that I am hers, could be no other’s.

Not for all the freedoms of the waking life we’ve left behind, not for dreamy flesh

Or sweet relief.

Not for all the gold in all the summers of California.

My mistresses kisses me when I have spoken, sharp teeth that pull my tongue

As her fingertips glance the metal ribs of my confinement.

“ You’ve been so good.” she whispers. “ An obedient little country mouse…”

Flash of silver and from nowhere she is holding the key in her hand.

“ My perfect slave…my obedient little play thing.”

No sound when she turns the key.

No bells and no choir of angels to announce my freedom as the cage slips away

As my swollen balls are pulled free from the ring which has restrained them

As my prick swells at once with the thrill of liberation

throbbing , ***ful with suppressed longing

As her fingers beat a slow cadence on the rigid shaft which seeks her.

“ Get on your knees my country mouse…

Get on your knees and pay the toll for all my kindness.”

I kneel in silence a she turns away.

There is no need to watch me anymore, she knows that she has broken me

That until she orders it my hands will linger restless at my sides

That even in the throes of desperation I will not touch myself but for her will.

I hold my breath as straight legged she bends before me

Spreads the heavy globes of her as before my widening eyes.

The pink bud of her rear entrance winking, breathing, hungry for my kiss.

“ My broken thing…look what I have done to you…my perfect cunt and butt slut.”

As I close my eyes and press forward. As my tongue seeks her center

Writhes deep within, swirling on the contours of her unknown passage

A blessed geography mapped in darkness known only to her true initiate.

She no longer needs to direct the actions of my tongue

The exact destinations she would have me grace.

Our language is unwritten and shorn of mortal words

A dance of moans and whimpers, spit and heat

The furnace of her desire which seeks to strangle by tongue at the root

Which seeks to burn me all away.

I know too when to raise my hands, kept immaculate in her service.

Know the paths she would have my fingers walk

To tease the growing wetness between her thighs.

Always soft and always slow.

Caresses like a butterfly's wing against a sleepers cheek.

Here and here…and now gone.

She used to shriek when she was cumming, a primal scream of conquest

But there is no need for such announcements any longer.

I can feel her nearness through my fingertips, can taste her smile beyond the tip of my tongue.

An instant more and her breath will cease

And the vice of her ass will lock upon me.

An instant more and I will know her climax by the shuddering of her spine.

Instant more and now …gone

As i free my tongue from it’s low station and press my face between her thighs

To receive the baptism of her cunt in honey and in flood.

Inundated, blinded in the tide of her excess.

Knowing that it will be hours before she allows me to wash my face

That she revels in the scent of her pleasure soaked into my hair.

“ Good boy.” she breathes at last.

And I nod my soiled face , prick red, prick straining

Fated for the cage.

But she looks at me, and I look back.

As she shakes her head and says we are not through…