late at night,

when the thunder roars its drumbeat,

and the lightning crackles its light into my dark room,

my submissive self wakes.

It is a curious thing.

There is no explaining it.

My eyes close, and to the music of the weather, images materialize.

The flogger tongues dance

his hot hand slaps

warm lips linger upon my neck

his soft touch sparks my skin

and whispered words caress my soul

I love the rain…late at night…