Marks

Marks left upon your skin

from a lover,

a tattoo of his thirst.

Not, as you were once led to believe 

a hallmark of disrespect

but rather a measure of his ardor.

Your thoughts form different conclusions now,

you listen to that long silent voice within

and feel the quickening of your pulse

as you think about his leavings,

the brands of his belonging.

You touch them when you are apart, 

your finger tracing the outlines,

pressing down upon them, 

remembering the passion,

the violence of desire.

You revisit the moment

and feel that ache anew

your thighs damp in anticipation

of more

of bite and bruise

and you recall how you were a meal made

and devoured

fully.

:

Copyright © SirenSong1208

All rights reserved

Photograph taken from Tumblr, unsourced

Confessional

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My words

a tender, sensual confessional.

Invocation

given on my knees.

Bound by need and want

I look to you for sublime absolution.

Sooty lashes lay upon my pale cheeks.

My mind awhirl with thoughts

as I wait

for the touch of your fingers

lifting my chin

my eyes following.

To see my sin

reflected

within your eyes.

:

Copyright ©SirenSong1208

All rights reserved.

Photograph by Roberto Gioli

Cover me with your sin

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Cover me with your sin

Fingers threaded through with mine

Held aloft

Pressed upon soft white sheets

Stark against flesh flushed pink

With arousal

With exertion

.

Cover me with your sin

As you crowd me with your intentions

To spoil

To sate

To initiate

Claiming every dark instinct as your own

As you pin me to the page

Writing your darkest prose

Seeing my response

Under your fingertips

A whorl of darkly inked curves and lines

Entwining with your own

:

©SirenSong1208

Photograph taken from Tumblr

A Christmas Eve instruction

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Christmas Eve mass.

A time for reflection.

But for her

she was thinking of anything

but the birth of the baby Jesus.

She felt naughty

and alive

for she had been given instruction.

Her eyes danced with mischief.

Her secret

and his.

She knew he must have smiled

as he typed the words

wondering at her reaction

feeling a delicious tug

at the thought of her

doing as he had directed.

Up went her skirt

past the lace top thigh highs

dark against her pale thighs.

She tugged her black lace knickers down.

Off they came and down went the skirt

smoothed along her thighs.

Enjoying the feel of her naked skin and sex

against the skirt.

It was a first for her

and she found it a most delicious practice.

Every time she crossed her legs

every time she moved

she was aware of her bareness.

She thought of him each time

knew he would be pleased

and this aroused her

as pleasing him always did.

Going to church

would never be the same…

*This was first posted three years ago. At the time it caused a bit of a stir. Two years ago I added audio. It’s a favorite piece so I beg your indulgence once again.

©SirenSong1208

 

Sin

Can I be truly repentant

As I atone for my transgressions

If I adored each step

Into darkness

And would again embrace

With delight

Would allow myself

To savor

Once more

The sin

That is you

…Ravenous for the sin

For the darkness

For you

My hunger outstrips any need

For penance

My only need

Confession

Under your hands

Under you

My body spilling its secrets

In every sigh, gasp and moan

Expiation of sin

Was never more

Delicious

:

©SirenSong1208

Photograph taken from WhiteNoten

Purr

She tries to move but cannot.

Her arms are above her head, bound.

She can feel the warmth of her skin on either side of her face.

She can smell the faint aroma of her perfume.

Along with this fragrance is the scent of her arousal

becoming stronger

as she waits.

The blindfold lets in no light.

She does not know where he is

or what he will do first.

But she knows,

oh yes she knows,

that he will do what he wants

when he wants.

 She tries again.

Giving a small tug on her wrists.

Checking the restraints.

Cuffed and roped to the bed frame

the slip slide of rope against metal

Unforgiving.

Unrelenting.

She sighs and stops.

She stretches her body

feeling the sheets under her

her skin sensitive to any touch.

She is alert for any sign of him

her body vibrating with anticipation.

Knowing she is his instrument for the day

and like any musician

he will play her over and over again

perfecting

chords

melodies.

He will make her sing

in her purest voice.

Her song.

For him.

Only him.

:

He’s still and silent.

Watching her.

Watching her face

as emotions, reactions flit across her features.

Wondering at her thoughts.

He’s restrained only her arms

wanting her legs free.

He watches as she tugs at the cuffs

smiling slightly as he knows they are secure

and her efforts are in vain.

Thinking of his plans for the day.

He observes her body.

Long, soft, supple naked skin

breathtaking curves

her nipples eager and erect

begging to be

teased

tortured

tasted.

Her sex

deliciously wet.

Of that he is sure.

He hears her sigh

and gazes at her as she stretches

her chest rising off of the bed

followed by the undulation of belly and hips

her legs lengthening

her toes pointed.

He likes to watch her stretch.

She’s like a cat

and he’s getting ready to make her purr.

:

*This is not a new post but it is a favorite longer piece of mine first posted a couple of years ago. I hope the reader will not mind indulging me.

©SirenSong1208 ~ 2015

Photograph taken from Tumblr

Ripe

She is ripe

for his hands

for his mouth.

She is the desirable fruit

he hungers for

her scent intoxicating him

beckoning forth his touch.

Her essence is nectar to his mouth

and one that he will savour every bite of

his senses alive to her taste

as it lays succulent upon his tongue

subduing the ravenous beast

within.

:

©SirenSong1208

Photograph taken from Tumblr