Until Craving Wakes

Until Craving Wakes

I don’t think about it, sometimes. Life is lived, days go by, I’m content.

Until craving wakes.

A photo, a memory, an idea is all it takes to spark the constant churning in the pit of my stomach.

Craving moves.

Thoughts of meaness, pain and marks break through the mundane.

Craving lives.

Dreams dance on spanking benches, wielding whips and canes and other implements of evil.

Craving grows.

A wooden spoon stirs more than sauce, the practical perverted to ponderings of punishment.

Craving grows.

The brat is back, baiting and waiting, needing and wanting.

Craving grows.

And grows and grows until it is taken in firm, capable, chastising hands.

Craving piqued.

Giving what is needed in blows and pinches, bites and slaps. Restrained only by his will.

Craving engaged.

Consensual calligraphy of marks written across my flesh.

Craving sated.

Aching, throbbing, heated, sore. I lay, replete. Smile across my face.

Craving contented.

For now.

Until Craving wakes again.

 

 

My Masturbation Monday Post this week has woken my masochist.

Victoria Blisse

Victoria Blisse is known as the Queen of Smut, Reverend to the kinky and is the Writer in Residence at Cocktails and Fuck Tales. She’s also an angel. Ask anyone. Mancunian Odd Duck, her northern English quirkiness shows through in all of her stories along with her own particular brand of humour and romance that bring laughs and warm fuzzies in equal measure. Passion, love and laughter fill her works, just as they fill her busy life.

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