I usually say that the whip is like kisses of fire, but I think now it is more like a match and I am the fire. The smell of leather, the feel of warmth from another body. The gentle, then rough feel of leather snaking it's way across my skin, tugging...
By the time I first feel the soft touch of the cracker raking my skin, my ember has just about burned out from all the energy I have spent.
As it gets heavier, more intense, a soft glow begins.
When I feel it tear in to my flesh, my flames grow strong.
They grow confident, fierce.
Like nothing can stop the inferno inside me as it bubbles up, up, out.
Out through my throat.
Out between my teeth.
To the lips.
A smile.
A growl.
And the fire is back in all of its beautiful glory.
It is finally free to exist.
Free to be wild.
