I want to be trapped in her aroma, the rounded fleshy walls of her staring me down, towering over me as I move toward them as a less-than-insect in comparison to any inch of her. One fold of her inner pink lips could envelope me beyond hope of escape, suffocate me in their warmth or in their heady scent. Or drown me in their salivation, their wet and warm juices that to her are but drops of nothing into her panties, but would fill my mouth, my nose, my lungs in minutes. I want to be placed before her almighty inner temple and journey like a pilgrim into it, at her goddess command. I want to worship her thick walls of flesh, and every sprouting hair. I want to worship the slick pink lips between them as they moisten further. I want to worship their lubrication and use it to cross myself in the name of them, in the name of her. I want to bow before the opening of her cavern and wonder at the space of it. I want to feel the pink walls drawing me in as I walk toward the opening of her cave. I want to place my hand on the sticky walls and feel the waves of heat and musky-sweet scent wash over me. I want to feel her breathing move her body around me. I want to enter her as a lowly slave, on my knees. I want to feel the walls reverberate with her breath, her pumping heart, her gentle sighs. I want to feel the dripping cup of her temple surround me, feel the muscles of her pulling me in. I want to feel her wet, juicy lips pucker around my body as I enter her, slurping shut behind me. I want to be trapped within her. I want to worship her every crevice and fold and corner. I want to lie prostate on her sensitive-pleasure muscles and massage them gently. I want to bow and lick her innermost center with my feeble, insignificant tongue. I want to pleasure her as much as my next-to-nothingness is capable. I want to please her, enough so that she might insert a finger like a pillar of the heavens inside her, and pleasure herself with me. I want to feel her immense strength exerted on me, but restrained to keep me alive and useful. I want to be utterly trapped within her, between her moist, warm walls and her all-powerful fingertip. I want to please her, help her please herself enough that she might reach a point of pure ecstasy, and that she might bathe me in an ocean of her fluids. I want to be of use to her physical, her sexual, her sadistic needs. I want to be of use in fulfilling her desires for power, her lusts, her sexual throbs. I want to be of use in satisfying her physically and psychologically. I want to be used utterly, be used unutterably to satisfy her most primal pink hot needs and wants, and then to be so privileged, so honored, so blessed as to be used as her emotional toy, on a level of intimacy with her emotionally. On a level likenable to “friend” or even “partner,” to be her tiny pet with which to laugh and to cry and to curl up and tell good night–but I am nothing, and she is more than everything. 

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