Siren Whispers

Siren Song

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Our darkest desires


It is in the inky darkness

Velvety soft and sensuous

That we give in

That we allow ourselves this freedom

This pleasure

Words that have caressed us

Through the day

That have fired our imaginings

That have made our pulses race

They feed our darkest desires

We lie


Tangled in sheets

Naked skin burning

The throb and ache of arousal


Hands and fingers

Proxy for the other

As dreams become real

In the silence of the night

I feel you

And your need overtakes me



Photograph taken from Pinterest


A sea of white


It is a sea of white upon the mahogany of a four poster

The two of them adrift in the night

Amid sheets and pillows and covers

Clinging to each other in sleep

The silence of the night broken only by

The ticking of the clock counting off each minute


In the predawn hours he wakes to the scent of her hair

Its silky strands caressing his face

A dark storm

Wild and wayward upon her pillow

Her face is peaceful in sleep

A slight smile upon her lips

Dark eyelashes feathered upon her cheeks

Her skin is pressed to his

From shoulder to toes

His arms around her holding her close to him

His heat keeping her warm

His hands are on her breasts

He idly thumbs her nipples

Making them harder

And elicits a soft moan from her sleepy lips

His hands drift down to her hips

The curve fitting perfectly into his hands

He pulls her tighter to him

Gently pushing himself against her buttocks

Making his arousal known


He turns her toward him and takes her warm and pliant body in his arms

Her skin seems even softer than the night before

He loses himself in the feel of her

Her scent intoxicating him

His desire building

As he tastes and teases her

Waking her to his arousal

Making love to her



Learning her all over again



Photo taken from Pinterest


Cover me with your sin


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



Photograph taken from Tumblr




She reads the words

and is glad that she is alone.

A blush suffuses her face and neck

her nipples are hard and urgent

beneath the silk that covers them.

She bites her lip

her toes curl involuntarily with desire.

She feels a tremble in her thighs

as arousal flows through her.

Who is this person

who writes such things.

Things that bring out of the shadows

all of her dark needs and wants.

She would never reveal

to him

of course

how one word led to two

led to

so much more.

Led to such eloquently carnal imaginings.

Never would she confess…

or would she?



Photograph taken from Pinterest




The room is silent, candles flickering and casting shadows upon the walls.

The collar around her neck leashes her senses with it’s weight

the scent of the leather stirring her.

Her head is erect but her eyes are downcast.

She focuses on the floor underneath her hands and knees in an attempt to steady her breathing,

to calm the chaos within.

The flutter of excitement and arousal proves difficult to tame.

She can feel it when he enters the room.

The subtle change.

The shift in the air.

Her body reacts in the only way it ever has

with him.

A sharp quiver of desire that makes her skin tingle, that causes her nipples to harden,

eager and ready for his touch,

arousal damp upon her thighs.

She feels his eyes upon her

appraising her

from the top of her head, to her painted toes and all of the curves in between.

The first touch is electric and she moans, in spite of herself.

His crop traces her spine and the curve of her arse,

lingering between her legs to probe her sensitive flesh,

to tease her

building the ache until she is consumed

with a feverish need.

Desperate to know

all he wants to teach

and all she wants to learn.




Photograph taken from Pinterest




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



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




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




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.


A favourite post from last year but felt it was time to let it stretch again.


Photograph taken from Tumblr


The echo of his presence…


Click here for audio

He haunts her

Day and night

During the day her thoughts are consumed with him

Nestled under her skin as he is

Innocent thoughts

Mixed with impure ones

Whispers from him

Memories that make her smile

And blush

But it is at night that his presence becomes pronounced

She feels him

From the whorls on his fingertips

As they make contact with her naked skin

To the breath at her ear

As his body is pressed closed

Her senses remain alive with the taste

The feel

And the scent of him

Reminders that come suddenly

And without warning

Her dreams are a jumble

Of tender words and entwined limbs

Her flesh singed

By his mouth and hands

No part of her unexplored

She wakes in a tangle of sheets and intense arousal

The echo of his presence

Fading slowly

With the dawn


Another repost from last year. Some presences are indelible, inked upon our souls…


Photograph taken from Pinterest