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…