I am hers

I kneel before her. Eager. Hungry. But I cannot touch. She won't allow it. Standing before me, she is beautiful, desirable, Goddess-like. I long to touch her, but fear her wrath. She doesn't speak, just looks at me. That look, those eyes, turn me on more than her naked, milky skin inches from my face. She smiles, seeing me harden, enjoying the power she has. Inches from my face, I can smell her. That smell that drives me wild. I can tell she wants me, but still she just stands there. The wanting grows. I fight the urge to lean forward and taste her. That would not please her. And I want to please her. More than anything I want to please her. And so I restrain myself. Every nerve in my body is straining to leap up and just take her. It is torture fighting that instict. Torture being so close. Torture seeing that soft white flesh and smelling her arousal. I live to worship her as she deserves. My heart tells me to touch her, to show her I need her. My head though knows this is not what she wants, even though she does want it. She wants me to learn. To learn patience. She wants me to suffer - that's not true, I tell myself off for even thinking she is cruel. My Goddess. Unconsciously my hand reaches toward her silky white leg. I don't touch, I know better, but I shouldn't have moved. Her loving hand strikes my cheek. I silently thank her. The torture increases. She steps closer. Almost touching. Her smell engulfs me, driving me wild with desire. I can feel the heat from her skin on mine. How I long to feel her skin on mine. How long will this torture go on. How much more can I take? I will take as much as she wants. I am hers.