My Inner slut 2 …./As I entered through a doorway, the cellar, clings to my skin like a musty glut from a gulley. A Strange wrap of warmth, veiled sacred whore. Warmer than the absence of what should be present. Even though messages scream at me from every spattered stain, still clinging to the walls. A journey of spattered traces, vibrates spirally at me, squeezing me into a quiver out of my warm wrap. Feeling my veins through my being, an embroiled network of four leave clovers, on white linen, back and forth in a lost breeze, to get me back over. She (my inner slut) was relieved, as her knees kiss the clay on the cellar steps. At last, she is home…. voices of energy, muscle their way through the walls. The warmth from burgundy sensed through every circled pattern screaming for release, along with the different shaped spots, clinging to the clay walls from their spattered arrivals. Leopard prints, unique as each own their shape and form without any rivals. There used to be an open world's distance, I used to, detach from. Connected to my vibrations, there is a passing through me, a specifically known rhythm that haunts my inner being, knocking and not leaving. This time around, I am left trembled, as I experience the distance of the world, I stepped away from, now, 34 steps closer. Experiencing, my breathing to now be my closest shoulder. A different mantra, that embraces me with new lyrics from my soul, re-enforced by the strength from the sacred seal I am nurtured from. There is a deeper truth buried in every step from my cellar, luring my little being to explore every step in its entirety, to taste the coal, not just for the wealth of its goal. Embraced rituals, mind-body, and spirit, now formed flow in dance from every screaming shape in the pattern. Enclosing my proximity to acceptance of each specific spot. Circles in motion, holding me bound in the smoulder as the circular-shaped spots, spiral into an unknown synchronization. A rhythm, a dance from a trance space, surrounded with nature, ambient. Am I too lenient? Relieved breathing (my slut within) an open cellar door, always light, feeds the most inner depth of my spirit. I experience her presence as she steps out into her bare exist. The form and shape are sacred to self, protected from all in their playing performance. Observing the players in their character ego forms, from the clay stairs, swirls the oil in her cheek, the little being discovered. Finds coal at the first step, dresses all of her skin with the colour of coal. Draped with new unknown energy. Tantalizing, a dance of familiar unknown adventure, by no invitation, found at the foundation. She dances from her spirit into abandoned shadows. During her wait, her dance is free, rich, and expressive, as she synchronizes with the presence of energy, arrived. The distinction in the birth of a new acceptance. He`s truth, bare, connection, seamed. Encircles the little one with warmth and comfort. Strikes with bare potential, caresses with pure submission, every vibration shared. Owning who we are, is our submission in sharing. With chivalry, impaling our attempts of ego-less being, into each other’s Mercury. My inner slut embraces the dance, during the moment s of the happy quest, as I experience vibrations of her hysterical flesh. A moment of Insignificant, self-possess, as the affection of skin and touch seam at commands of owning my oozing warmth. He drowns my slut into a trembling ripple of total dominated, loved flesh. She stares at the vulnerable Domme, curled up at the oiled feet of the beautiful slave, caressed and hugged by the little one, supporting the Dom and the slut in a warm embrace. Enormous ambient energy in grace. My slut echoed in silence, in warm protection at the Dom. No care at the Domme. She is like new technology, defrost when the time arrives. Together we picked up the slave, cradled and oiled her as her intense journey awaits in its every new birthing, laughing at the spattered whore against the bare cold walls of hollow calling. The slut, adored, admired, encouraged to play with her abandoned shadows, allow them their dance. He, following the Diva into the arena, in awe of the space in grace. Staring into the purity of each other’s open souls. That of our spiritual whore’s, caressing my eyes. Guiding me, with a collar of freedom, chained to the links of my spiritual path, to receive my spiritual feed. All my pores open as he’s seaming stitch our connected-ness to the depth of our pure form. She smiles through him every touch in her glow, watching her shadows line up to be freed through the avenues, back into the floor of her soul. Warmth gathered, with secure presence, filling the hollow pores. Free, tasting each link as it Is prepared with the purified oil. Comfortable with her choices, toning her merry energy. Steady preparations towards a new opus, blissful pinnacle could be experienced. My whore is in liberal standing to taste the chant of blissful tears. Fed, and cloaked, snug in the comfort of knowing, nurtured pores with new energy, spatters, returned to its housing of cause. My inner slut awaits in her silence to be freed into her rawness of uncontrolled being, a pure mantra, vibrating with a secret grail, to be liberated by her birthed cabaret. As He owns the seams into my slut being, my complete and utter yielding quiver at the threshold of discovery. The path of truth, the only play, is the depth of the name…..it holds in its new frame……/ Written by BOH ......./ motivated through the pure channel during sharing of submissions – thanks & Appreciation "-M-" Documented Owned - all rights reserved First Print Jan 26, 2015