… His words taste like the outer corners of lust, coveted by dark shadows. A curse of black mist rising in me. If I am the succubus then he is my master, puppeteering my desire, fingering my needs to his command. His touch is the black leather choker at my slender neck. His voice the liberating echo of passion that lubricates my strings….and in his eyes is the promise of a million kisses, each one new, deep, purposeful. Each kiss overflowing with lust, each kiss a binding promise of trust, each kiss an exchange of power… And if I am his succubus, a vessel of need then he is my master and from him alone I feed, for there in his kisses, his touch and his eyes, is an abundance of love filling my skies.
Karen Hayward ©2018
It starts at my very core, there at my centre, deep within my sacral.
Not a gentle, subtle whispered kiss
of bliss, oh no, It’s an inferno, a blazing
storm, it takes hold, flames
through me, a moments combustion,
lubricated response to dampen the
fires of desire. A matrix of sensuality,
ancient coding mapped on the aged
parchment of my soul, the hidden
symbolism of spirit that you finger
your way through with the knowledge
of a blind man searching his memories
for lost vibrations of once known directions. A flamed insistence spreads
through my responsive cells,
blood reaching my surface needing
to caress its master as searing heat
flushes and blushes, intensity rushes.
My limbs curl, search, draw in,
crouching, anticipating the onslaught
Implosive lust, explosive need…
It all starts at my very centre,
an inferno blazing through
me, an ancient need responding
to its one true master.
Karen Hayward ©2017
Your essence lays deep within my core,
my mind unquenched it begs me for more,
My spirit, chaotic has never felt so sure,
Of all our choices, I’m thinking all fours.
My skin searches always your touch
cheeks yearning for your crimson blush
An intense need that roams without rush,
A slave to desire and the erotic rush.
My eyes wander other realms to need,
to ponder the evolution of master’s feed,
to secure the taste essence of seed,
To taste liberation to be free.
I find you again at the core of my mind,
dark evolution, my wrists you do bind,
Kisses so soft, touch. . .of a kind,
this here lust that does burn,
Is yours and is mine.
It is yours and it is mine.
The whispers of need as
two souls entwine.
Karen Hayward (c) 2017
Words and image.
Teeth grazing on pale skin
the soft vibration of life’s beat,
faint, needy, weak.
Drink my dear.
throat as you have
Sip greedily on my crimson
blood, drain me of mortality.
Taste the essence of my desire
upon your lips as my passion
coats your tongue, my
weakness trickles down
I give myself to you,
I offer my eternal slavery,
my life force, the very beats of
my feeble heart.
Drink from me.
Sustain your soul on my
Piercing screams of release,
shackle me to your existence,
bind me to your will,
fill me with your seed of life,
spilling between lips.
Upon knees, Master,
let me drink
from your source,
nourish me in the blood
of your need, make of me
your eternal servant.
Master, make me yours,
feed to me the essence of your immortality,
drink my scarlet blood,
smeared upon your lips,
Lustrous Master, kiss me.
Karen Hayward (c)2017
Image and words