Connection

The gentle pain of his touch.

The caring touch of his pain.

The guidance that he provides into the darkest of places where we fly with wild abandon.

His breath leading and guiding.
His touch quiets my restless thrashing. “Shush now my whore.”
Connection through the implements of his discipline.

Each lash of the flogger or whip, each fall of the paddle or cane;
Sends us ever higher, ever deeper into the beautiful abyss.

Endorphins are flying
Adrenaline is pumping
Contact is made

© Dawn C. Davis ~ 2012