Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens…
A kitten without whiskers would be pretty creepy.
But what are my favorite things?
Rope wound around the body.
Knots tied just out of reach.
Fifteen foot high suspension points.
Heavy canvas straitjackets.
The smell of leather.
Nylon hoods muffling sight and sound.
The sting of his single tail.
Saran wrap being peeled off after a long scene.
Nipple clamps sinking in.
Teeth on tender flesh.
His finger pointing to the floor.
The quiet peace of kneeling at his feet.
Breath blowing on heated skin.
Bruises the next day.
The numbers One, Two and Three.
The steady rhythm of floggers.
Deceptively simple commands.
The crackle and hum of electricity.
The pure joy in his eyes.
The feel of his hair running through my fingers.
A strong grip in my hair.
The bliss of an orgasm completely out of my control.
The adrenaline rush of fire play.
The sound of his voice.
The warmth of his embrace.
