Commands the demands

… 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
Image found on Pinterest.

My Lips…your name.


My lips yearn to speak
your name long into the night,
counting every breath taken,
every syllable spoken
every nervous bite, searching
beneath twilight, in golden rays
endless faces, realms of nothing.
My lips yearn to speak your name,
to taste the letters upon my
tongue, and swallow their intent
caught between kisses, caressed
by desires love, engulfed in
desperate lust, my lips yearn
to whisper your name on pleasures
wave, ascent, descent, upon the
arch of need rising at your touch,
my lips yearn to speak your name.




Karen Hayward (c)2017 Image via wordpress library

Taste what love for you is.

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Kiss me.

My lips ache for the

taste of your mouth.

Surrendered soul

singing loves symphony

entwined between the

sheets of time…Kiss me.

Lose reality in the dark

clouds of melancholy…

Kiss me,

a single beating heart

through the grains

of forever. Kiss me,

fill the jars of our existence

with love and insistence,

kiss me,

taste the essence of my spirit

spoken on the tip of my fair tongue,

speak to me,

tell me tales of desire in lust

filled words, inaudible,

heard by my heart spoken by yours.

Kiss me…Kiss me,

I must tell you of my love,

I must whisper of my needs

I must show you my desire…

Taste me….

Taste what love for you is.

Karen Hayward ©2017

Image found on WordPress library

Let me love you as…

Let me love you the only way I know how,
With one foot among the flames of hell.
My halo hanging from the door as Satan                                                                                bangs down upon the floor.

Let me cherish your being the only way I’ve sought,
In whispered tones of unsaid thoughts.
In the endless space of empty words,
And the blank spaces that go unheard.

Let me adore the softness of your inner soul,
With shy blushes and a rising tide of a love I know.
With gentle thoughts and the slightest touch,
As the devil screams this is all too much.

Let me desire the very all of your being,
In broken sleep and heated dreaming
As need escapes, transforms the room,
and I beg and plead, take me soon.

Let me relish in our touch the only way I could,
With devil kisses in those places I never should.
In a trail of unforgiven memories across your skin,
Tainted now by our enchanted sin.

Let me devote myself to your spirit, with empty vows of love,
And let us hope this alone is enough.
My succubus soul and hearted sleeve,
And let these be the mortal sins of life we weave.

Karen Hayward ©2016.

Image found on WordPress library

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When passion stirs 

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

…and then I was caught.

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…And when I search the confines of imagery within my mind,

when I look and find…You are sleeping.

And in the silent whisper of curiosity my fingers,

soft and gentle explore this new found treasure

in waters deep and tranquil.

I touch skin so dark with fingers so light,

never before have I seen such contrasting beauty.

I touch, what is not mine to touch and I caress

what it is I desire.

And as you sleep,

slumber gentle and need so raw

my resistance is beyond my power,

primal need burns inside…To taste,

to taste the hardness of your drive,

the product of your dreams

and my lips are there,

softly rubbing against the tip.

Each gentle touch met with enthusiasm,

my tongue circling,

licking,

more,

more…

and you are awake

and I am caught, blushing,

cheeks flushed followed by the

sudden rush as bodies meld

and passion spills.

Karen Hayward ©2017