Hot air hovers across my shoulders,

carrying His promise of lips upon my neck,

a neck hungry for His warm, creamy kiss.

The blindfold’s velvet blackness envelops me in its ebony arms,

holding me spellbound,

as the Sorcerer weaves His magic.

 Fingertips whisper their promise.

Like tiny leaves dancing upon a lawn,

they touch, then are gone.

I am frozen in time, my breath ceases.

I am lost, I am found.

I am free, as I am bound.

I am complete inside my offering.

My precious offering.

My sweet surrender.