Two days later and I stop half way through getting the tea bag as another memory fills my mind.

Two days later and I inhale mindfully as I lean against the kitchen stool and the tenderness blooms more.

Two days later and I smile as I bend over to sort the washing and I remember exactly how I earned the aches and stripes.

Two days later and I am pondering how to capture in words the exquisite scene that he created. How to even begin to weave the words that will express the deep immersion in fear, surrender, isolation, and connection and more than all that, the trust that makes it beautiful.

Two days later and I’m grinning because I am one very lucky “Kinky Bitch.”

Two days later and an image that, I hope, captures how positive this is for me. These marks are a whisper of the intensity of experience that he gave me and how deep he took me into a world of my own. My body is hard to mark but I am full of the joy of every memory that floods my mind.

Sinful Sunday

3 Replies to “Two Days Later”

  1. I could feel guilty about those low blows. I prolly would if they hadn’t landed EXACTLY where I aimed them.
    Lovely post and I’m so glad you got all that from our session. Bx

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