Mar 102014
 
Snow hill

Snow hillHer love for him was fresh and untainted. It was a sunny day with a hill of untouched snow. It was delicate. It was a pretty picture.

Their tracks went back and forth on top of the hill. They hung on to each other for better footing. Neither wanted to upset the fragile allowance beneath them. In time, steps became stomps and walking gave into a run.

On her way down, she felt a hand at her back, not one that offered aid. Her body cleared a path down the hill. The snow hid the branches that tore at her clothes. The slicked grass permitted her no foothold.

She slid. He watched from the top. He was stoic. She relinquished flesh and tears to the tumble. There was no pardon for her. It was inescapable. Every rock, branch, and punch of earth was a recitation of what she already knew; but had to live through to pocket the experience.

Be careful who you climb hills with.

 

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Sep 202012
 
Tools of the Trade

Your hair has been his leash longer and more often than any combination of metal and leather.

Ropes leave those wonderfully symmetrical marks, but his hands bruise you for days.

You’ve never had a toy that can make a fist to clench in your hair, or close around your throat. ┬áHe can grab a handful of ass. Manhandling what’s his.

You’ve always loved those cuffs. You took the time to pick out just the right pair. They’ve been collecting dust because his body holds you in place.

Feel free to struggle.

You’re still not going anywhere.