Passion

A post for National Poetry Day.

 

Passion

Passion
Unconstrained and uncontrolled
Frantic, desperate
Kisses that blend souls.
Hands touching, tearing
At each others flesh;
A need that cannot be delayed
That must instantly be met.
Bodies lost in pleasure
Yet seeking hungrily for more,
To sink into each others depths
And find themselves anew.
Complete annihilation
Or rebirth of the soul,
No one is unchanged
By this sacrifice of all.
Surrender to emotion,
To the most physical of needs,
Triumph in the glory,
That erotic release gives.
Be only in this moment
Yourself and other, now
Coupled and self-centred
In most exquisite joy.
Reaching for the infinite
Forever out of reach
Driven ever deeper
By passion’s endless kiss.

© Caitlin 2013

The Secret

When you feel unable to speak and yet your heart is full.

Sonnet VIII  – The Secret

I hold a secret close within my heart,
With force that may not ever be revealed,
The words of love that from my lips would start,
Are held inside, for must my lips be sealed.
Were I to speak the love I feel within,
You would pour scorn on such a raging flood
Of heartfelt passion that my eyes would dim
And in that dark would pain become my blood.
And yet that pouring out of love, denied
Is substitute for more intense desire,
The need for lust itself to be untied
And touch inflame our bodies into fire.
But passions fires are banked and love is dumb,
Yet hearts need words and these rhymes give them some.

© Caitlin 2014

The Bracelet

A hopelessly romantic fantasy of submission but this one is all mine.

“Your Mistress commands you wear this until you are with me again.” was all the note said.

Matthew looked at the contents of the envelope; one handwritten note and a simple black friendship band. He regarded it doubtfully.
‘At least it is subtle’ he thought. Tying it on his wrist was a tricky problem and involved the use of teeth but at last he got it fastened. He turned his wrist this way and that regarding the symbol of his bondage and then pushed it up under his cuff.

On the way into the office he was uncomfortably aware of the extra weight, although tiny, on his wrist. He found his eyes flicking to it as he drove.
“Still, if Mistress demands it” he reflected.

His morning was occasionally distracted by the presence of the bracelet on his wrist. He looked at it curiously wondering whether Rowena had made it herself, and as he thought of her and of seeing her that night a gentle smile fell across his face.
“Nice bracelet”, he looked up, startled, from his reverie as Marie from finance stood by his desk.
“Er, yes, thank you”, he muttered discomforted. Self consciously he tugged his shirt sleeve down to cover the friendship band up and hide the all too visible reminder of his submission.

In the afternoon he found his fingers running over it gently, turning about his wrist. A tiny link to his Mistress, loved but distant. He was her Boy, even here in the middle of his busy day.

Later, at home, he regarded it doubtfully as he stripped naked to have a shower.
‘Until you are with me’ the note had said. He left it on.

It survived unscathed, only a little damp, and he turned his wrist looking at it while he pondered what to wear to meet his Mistress. He pulled out a short sleeve shirt, as it was a warm night, and assessed his image in the mirror critically. The band simple and unobtrusive, yet marking him as an owned Boy, a possession, a plaything, Rowena’s. He was unaware of the pleasure in his face as he hurried out to meet her.

The bar they were meeting at was crowded. She was sitting at a table by herself. She had come straight from work and looked a little tired. Her face transformed as she saw him.
“Matthew”, she smiled with delight. “My Boy” she added quietly as she gestured him into the chair. She held out her hand imperiously and he put his wrist into it, the bracelet clearly on display.
“Good Boy”, her praise was sweet.

Later, much later, he found himself, naked, sore, kneeling at her feet, his head to the floor. Rowena stood over him, all tiredness vanished, refreshed by each moment she had used him, hurt him, played with him.
“Up Boy”, she lifted his head until he was looking up at her. She took his hand and stroked the bracelet knotted around it.
“Shall I release you from this now?”, she asked him gently.

He looked up at her adoringly, “No Mistress, please let me wear it”.

 

On Mondays I Miss Him

You know how it is; you’ve had a wonderful weekend. There has been fun, passion and wonder. Then Monday comes and you’re sitting in the office remembering the weekend and looking forward to another chance to do it all again.

Sonnet VII – Monday

Can Monday be the day I miss you most?
I feel your absence keenest from my side,
The empty space where weekend love could boast
You were within and did with me abide.
I cling to memories of what we shared
As overhanging branch for drowning men.
Reliving each sweet proof that then you cared
And feeling passion’s heat fill me again.
But phantom kisses cannot warm me still
Unless our love extends into my week,
I need to know that I make your heart thrill
And so, I long to hear, you thusly speak.
So now my heart leaps forward to the time
Your arms and hands and mouth tell me you’re mine.

© Caitlin 2014

Surprise Saturday – Reflections of Love

Full Moon
Click to see more!

In the dark I sleep, but what is this?
I am roused by your insistent kiss.
Your breath hot on my neck, your teeth take hold,
I melt inside and thus my soul is sold.

You take me hand and lead me from my bed
Unto the window to gaze outside instead.
You stand behind and fold me in your arms
No night so chill but that embrace could warm.

Your hands spread creamy whiteness on my skin,
Which instantly its melting does begin.
The scent of coconut intensifies my bliss,
My every sense alive for naught but this.

The full moon glows now with the only light
And makes window pane a mirror to my sight.
I see my gleaming breasts beneath your hands.
I see, I sense and tremble where I stand.

Your body close to mine, your head bowed low
Against my neck, our passion all on show.
No secret of our love or our desire,
Just moonlit bliss of which I never tire.

© Caitlin 2013

This Is Missing My Boy

My Boy is out tonight and I miss him so much.

The odd thing is that I don’t really want him to be here. I know where he is and what he’s doing tonight. I know how much he’s enjoying himself and I am so happy for him. No, I don’t want him anywhere but where he is.
If (and this is about to get slightly fanciful) a fairy appeared and offered to wave a magic wand and have him spirited back here this second, I’d say “No thank you”. In fact, quite honestly, right now I’d probably wish for him to be out again tomorrow to do the same things again (which would need to be worded very carefully to avoid some kind of time loop paradox).

None of which sounds like missing him at all.

But despite all that, I’m acutely aware of the Mat shaped place in my heart which he fills. I’m thinking of all the wonderful ways he makes me happy. I’m thinking, in fact, about how I need him. Somewhere inside my head, I’m curled up, held tightly in his arms and neither of us are letting go.
I miss him.

I miss him so much it hurts but I’m so happy tonight that I can.

A Memorable Date

I took my boy away, to a hotel, where we could express our love as we pleased, as we needed to, where we could be ourselves.
I needed to hurt him, to keep hurting him and that is what I did; this poem tells you just how much.

Whipped

Sonnet V – A Memorable Date

Tenderly I at first caress your skin,
You stand, my naked boy, for me to touch.
Then take I up my whips, my cane so thin,
This is love’s kiss; let it be not too much.
Sixty seconds doth each long minute make
But measure we alone in counted blows.
Each stroke requested and with love you take,
Given with pride, we do not care who knows.
Six of the best could never be enough
To show each other just how much we care,
Each stripe upon your skin is not too tough,
When knowing  who it was who placed them there.
And all that love poured out ‘twixt us in pain
Bonds us as owned and owner yet again.

© Caitlin 2013