dreamzweaver (dreamweaverz) wrote in switchspace,

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The Power of Words

His voice is a dark velvet covering the steel of his will. It spoke of passions and pleasures I had yet to experience. It beckoned with the promise of forbidden delights and transcendent dreams.  Willingly I followed to learn more about that which suddenly had become of the utmost importance.

His voice caresses my mind and causes my body to throb with desire and yearning. The timbre of his voice reminds me of the rumble of the lion before he roars. Deep and resonant chiming a chord within me that makes me vibrate like the finest crystal poised to shatter at any moment. He plays me like a fine instrument drawing forth the sweet sounds of his making. My voice changing as I become aroused, the whimpers when the aches are at their sweetest, the panting when I am overwhelmed and swimming in a sea of sensation.

To listen to him speak of the mundane is akin to having a full body massage with all senses on alert trying to determine when the next phase will begin. When he directs that voice to me and speaks words full of sexual purpose and promise all pretense of my strength is gone. I yield to him as as swiftly as the dew yields to the power of the sun. He is free to to create of me anything that he chooses.  He has but to make his will known and I will fulfill it.

 I remember the day I became undeniably and irrevocably his slave for life without his ever having to put a physical collar around my neck or anything else that anyone will ever see.

After 3 days of being denied release and having him drive me to the brink of orgasm time and time again I was frantic. I couldn't bear heavy clothing, my skin was so sensitive. I remember my nipples aching every time I took a breath as they slid within the confines of my bra. I had long since abandoned wearing panties since they kept getting soaked as he teased me and stretched me to the breaking point.  I begged him every opportunity I had, careful not to arouse his anger as my suffering and torment brought him such pleasure. When showering I had to be very careful when going near my throbbing aching clit, walking was a torment in and of itself.

On the third day he took me to a private place and told me that I was to cum when he spoke a word to me. This word is used to describe the deepest oceans and the clearest skies. As he made me tell him just how badly I wanted him and how ready I was to flood my lady garden on his command I nearly wept as he kept me on the razor's edge.  He spoke to me of naughty things and future requirements. He wrung from me confessions of my desire of submission. Words like cunt and cock became endearments, and the world was narrowed to what would please The One. He held me enthralled and just when I thought I would not, could not take anymore he spoke and commanded. With moans through silken scarves and tears in my eyes I soared to the very skies and plummeted to the deepest depths as my body crashed upon wave after wave of unbelievably intense orgasm.

As I lay shuddering, my body still caught in the aftermath of not just the physical release but the total mind fuck by him, he spoke softly to me pleased at my performance for his pleasure. I basked in his praise and answered him demurely and sweetly. I knew then that he owned me. The thought both aroused and frightened me. What would he ask of me? How far is too far? How much is too much? He has never pushed me farther than I could go and I trust implicitly that any pain he brings will be for my own good.  For his pleasure I would endure so much more...........but that is a story for another time.
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