…./As I enter through my doorway, looking back into the open world's distance, that I at that moment, detach from. Connected with my inner vibration, there is passing through me, a species, known rhythm that haunts my inner being, knocking and not leaving. A Mantra, that embraces me with the lyrics from my soul, re-enforced by the strength from the sacred seal I am nurtured from. Every step followed through the rituals, cleansing the mind-body and soul, who accompanies me near warmth, wrapped around me, circles of movement as my bound and lawful sisters always are with me. At last, I can hear her relieved breathing (my slut within) as the cellar door is left open to receive the light that feeds the most inner depth of my soul. I experience her presence as she steps out into her bare exist. The form and shape are sacred to self, protected from all in playing performance. She dances from her spirit with no shadows left unattended. During her wait, her dance is free and rich, as she synchronizes with the presence of energy not yet arrived. Variation in the birth of a new flow, after He’s gentle touch owns the skin he warms in its stride and strike. My inner slut embraces the dance, during the moment s of happy pursuit, as I felt the vibrations of her hysterical flesh. A moment of Insignificant, self possess, as an affection of skin commands owning my oozing warmth. He drowns my slut into a trembling ripple of total dominated flesh. My slut echoed in silence, through our space, laughing at the spattered whore against the bare cold walls of hollow calling. Cold, empty, void, as she eagerly awaits a portion that may be enough to nurture and mend. The slut, adored, admired, and left to play with the shadows of her dance. He, following the Diva into the arena, in awe of the stains splattered on the walls of the arena. Staring into the purity of my open soul, that of my spiritual whore. Own Own and caress the gaze of my eyes i tried to hide. Guiding me, collar and chained, positioning me, to receive my spiritual feed. All my pores open as the leather strands come within reach of the whore’s spattered seed. She smiles through every inflict watching the spatters as they find their way back into the floor of my soul, my sacred cellar. Warmth gathered as they experience secure space, filling the hollow pores. Free, joyous, ready, prepared for a height of a new oeuvre. My whore is in liberal standing to taste the chant of blissful tears. Fed, and cloaked, snug in the comfort of knowing, nurtured pores, seeds spattered, returned to its housing of cause. My inner slut awaits in her silence to be freed into her rawness of being, a pure mantra, vibrating with a secret grail, liberated from her best cabaret. He owns the gaze into my slut being, my complete and utter yielding quiver at the threshold of a newly discovered truth, not a play…… / (Written by Bitchonheat / motivated through the pure channel during a dungeon serving - SPB) Documented- Printed and owned Aug 20, 2014