The Spell

Words often cast a dazzling spell, his words to her always left her under his control.  His words weave through the fabric of her soul and into her body.  Slowly sliding, licking, biting, then stroking the sting.  Her body comes to life, afire, open to the sensations he covered her with.  Hungry, waiting, willing to succumb to his spell.

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With each passing word, each moment, she finds herself wanting more. Yearning to be his.  Happy to be the woman who inspires his force, his passion, his thoughts words and the forceful action he takes with her.

She at times wonders if she is alone.  His passion seems like too much for her to quench. He assures her she is the only one on the pages of his journal, she is consuming all his light, he devours only her in the depths of his darkness.  She is afraid she cannot keep up with the stories in the recess of his mind.

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She listens to his words, reads his tales and is left breathless and aching while feeling the writing upon her skin and soul.  She feels his words as if her body were laid bare for his taking.

And when she is satisfied she wonders if her words will ever have the same effect on him.  They do, she does.

Her words touch  his soul as well.

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