Please. Let me explain this in the only way I know how. I stand behind you. Dominant. You lay before me, your back exposed, naked. Submissive. In my hand is the flogger I will use to hurt you. The leather will redden your skin, bruise you and make you cry. Through it I will feel what you feel; not as the pain, but as the emotion your body transmits. Every contact a conduit — a circuit complete. Complex transmissions cross, telegraphing the varied communications needed to complete this scene. If I listen I will know what your body needs. I will know when your spirit bends and your psyche begs to break. I will know when to heel my blows, touch you and praise your service. You will feel my compassion for your pain and satisfaction from it. Soon the conduit no longer exists only with contact; it self-sustains. Waves pass. Tides. I ride the crest, you float far out in darker, calm waters. Roars and silence. Fires and shadows. Echos and ice. Worlds of only us…alone in a crowd of faceless observers. A conduit. Does it make sense now?
Posted via email from tutivillus’s posterous
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