Order me to my knees. I am sturdy upon my bent legs, finding my greatest strength in my submission before You. My gaze tracks upwards. I admire Your muscular thighs, mouth agape as my eyes travel to revere Your weighty balls, watching Your cock pulse as blood begins to lengthen You. The muscular “V” of Your hips forms a beautiful foundation for a ladder of abdominal muscles. I scan them, one by one. My eyes play hopscotch as they skip across the ridges of Your stomach. Eyelashes pressed against my eyelids, dusting just below the arch of my brows. Your swollen chest heaves with the intoxication of Your will over me. Your pulse beats a drum in your neck. I wait patiently for the mark I crave.
I close my eyes and transcend into a mental space far more comfortable than the one I’m forced to exist within during the vast majority of my conscious hours. A place where You can smell my sex from Your place of superiority over me. My sweet smell emitting from between my thighs spread wide. My scent ignites You, as if embers attached to my essence in the air, drifting with purpose toward Your flared nostrils. Our primal instincts attune to one another’s body with such intensity, we eclipse humanity. We are our primal best. In this place, we are far superior to the limitations of our human bodies.
You omit dominance as sweat from Your pores, and I find myself in need of more. I want to feel Your ownership, temperate and tumbling over the curves of my body. Yours, as I’m splashily painted from the brush of Your body. Beads meld together atop my shoulders, summersault down my back, and disappear into the crease of my ass. Your liquid strokes cascade down my breasts and congregate into drops suicidal off the tips of my erect nipples. You tag my stomach in Your organic mark, a river trailing between the lips of my sex, through my delicate folds, and coming to rest upon the ground below. Tributaries trickle down the front of my thighs, resting in puddles at bended knees. The smell of You omitting from the tendrils of dampened hair, gathered to sharp points at the sides of my breasts. I breathe in Your savage animal and exhale Your captive pet. I kneel, marked as the beasts grace the bush. Territory. The fragrance of possession rising off of my ivory skin as steam from a warmed Earth. The tickle of Your dew grasping momentarily to my folds in a last desperate attempt to resonate upon my flesh. Owned.
My eyes still cast upward toward You, my King. You are the Earth, the Sun and the Moon. I worship You. I am cloaked in your liquid essence as if wearing a shawl of luminous candlelight glow. Mirrored upon the amber reflection of my skin, You, My King. My body and everything encapsulated within it belongs to You.
The bouquet of Your dominance radiates into the air as You drive yourself deep within Your prey. Your strong hands press into my slick flesh as Your heaving sack slaps aggressively against the folds of my cunt, dispelling the condensation upon the petals of my pussy. A drizzle from my flesh to the ground below, hands and knees in a puddle of carnal claiming. My utter submission in every savored drop that once traveled my skin. Your mark upon my body, I am both for You and made of You. Baptized in Your dominance, I find sweet submission.
*Image courtesy of Pinterest. Photographer unknown.