Yes Master…

Your words are magical to my ears. I love your praises of my body I’ve painted with such horrible words and thoughts. I love your praises as you gently massage slick oil over my naked skin, over my stretch marks and bumps. You whisper such sweet verses of what I cannot see, adamant you will repeat them until I see myself.

I know you are not blasé with your vows. You will until I see myself through your eyes. I’m trying, Master, I really am, but my thoughts tell me nasty things. I’m not good enough, that I’m worth less for the way my lower belly rolls when I sit down, for how I don’t feel pretty whatever clothes I wear, for the way my bones carry my flesh.

Gently, you take me in your arms behind you, taking the soft oil over my breasts. Your lips caress my ear and I shiver at your touch.

“I’ll just have to try harder then…” you whisper, placing a warm kiss on my shoulder, “I won’t stop until you see what I see.”

I breathe deeply as your hands massage and fondle, every movement so adoring I could cry.

Yes Master.

Please don’t stop.

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©2018 – Life of Violet. All Rights Reserved.

*Picture – Pinterest