Katerina Blue
Koba 7
I am with you even when I am without you. We are there, in our own place
where only the two of us may go.
Half of what I write is meaningless. Keep only the pieces that reach
you.
I am your Dom only because you say that I am. I cannot make that
decision. I can only tremble inside when you tell me.
A Dominant studies psychology. A submissive does not need to. She smiles
at it.
We thrill to each other's moods. We detect them like geiger counters. A
giggle, a tone, a look, sets us off.
I ache to feel the gentleness of your touch, the slip sliding wetness
and warmth of your tongue tantalizing my body.
I love talking to you as you pleasure me. Talking and whispering sweet
phrases of joy for my precious Princess. I sing. As you take me further
my words fade to gibberish that only you can understand.
We share the free and open laughter of lovers.
I want to fuck you in the way that only a Dominant and submissive can
fuck. I want you to feel the heat and energy slowly grinding and flowing
from my body into yours.
We are each other's opium.
I am intense. You can feel that in my words.
You bring out a gnawing intensity in me that drives me to the edges.
Do not be afraid to show me your soul. I want to see into it. Let me
look deeply into your eyes as your orgasm approaches. We will arrive at
the point where each is both.
Let us explore the psyche, walking without fear through the doors where
the true realities of desire lie.
We shall play. Kama Sutra, Krishna, and Katerina Blue. Our cups shall
overflow with the elixirs of erotic nirvana. Ginger and honey, cinnamon
and frankincense. I shall take roses apart, pasting the petals one by
one, covering your body with the passionate fragrance of red attar.
Our separation is painful. Our words, our voices, are seconds away while
our bodies hunger across thousands of miles. Sometimes I lay in reverie,
my mind drowning in thoughts of you. In the depths of darkness on lonely
nights my craving hands reach out for you, feeling only the emptiness
beside me.
Pain unites us. We are bonded by it. When we are together again the very
first thing you will do is kneel, lean over the couch, and slide your
pants and panties down to your knees. You will put your hands and arms
flat on the couch cushions, where they will stay. Closing your eyes you
will say two words: "Please, Sir." (Don't worry, I shall not keep you
waiting. I know how much you hate waiting.) You will hear the sound of
my belt quickly sliding and swishing through the loops of my pants. You
will hear the clinking of the buckle as the belt is folded once. And
then you will feel the belt. You will feel the fiery sting of black
leather ripping and melting into the soft white flesh of your ass. I
shall thrash it without mercy. I shall thrash it with pleasure, marking
you as mine with red welts. I want to hear your soft cries and moans. I
want to see your subtle restrained squirming. Afterwards I shall cool
you with the tender touch of my fingertips gently gliding across your
heated screaming skin.
The ecstasy of a whipping is a shared intimacy that only knowing lovers
can achieve.
Our sessions start with ritual. We stand naked, facing each other.
Opening our arms, we embrace with the lightest pressure. Our foreheads,
chests, bellies, thighs, and toes barely touch. We close our eyes and
experience each other quietly. When the time is ripe we look into each
other's eyes. We smile. We begin.
Sweet Katerina, nobody's angel, deviant but pure. In your self portrait
you stand naked and alluring (with that wicked secretive smile) yet you
modestly fold your arms over your breasts covering them from view. Only
those most deserving see all of you. Am I worthy? I shall kneel before
you offering you the crown. With a mere nod you can become Queen,
ascending to the throne. You will be a Monarch, worshipped and idolized.
No, no? You refuse? Thank you. I am worthy. I am with you now.