It came to me that my straight fuck scared some people. I wanted love, I wanted tenderness, but I also really wanted to fuck, and that just upset decorum. To them I was a force too majestic and raw to handle: like Nature, I should be trimmed, mowed and manicured. Untamed forces are dangerous.
But oh dear oh dear danger is exciting, it just...gets out of hand!
So here I am. In your bed, naked. Everything you fear and desire. You have one chance to tear off your mask and join me.
Take it all and ask for more.
Feel your guts cave in surrender, broken open.
Do you want it?
It's all I had to offer the scared. Not much pity. I'm cruel that way. Somehow my tenderness, my kindness, is reserved for courage.
The passion of the brave is an ocean pulled by fearsome tides, mortal risks, currents that can drown. You cannot survive the depths without an open heart, and there I will hold you safe when we meet, teeth bared in grins. Such tenderness, a nova fusing our bellies.
And now I knew what a Demon is. It is a figment the frightened see when they encounter Desire. When carnal matters threaten to be altogether uncivilized:
The Demon tears through my skin
Howling, a maelstrom of lust:
Her power transforms me. I am no longer an ordinary woman
But mad energy in electric flesh
Ecstatic in flames
Trapped in the Cave with me, there's no where to hide.
You turned the key.
I can't be chained.
And your half -measures don't interest me, I break them like thin ice.
And here's the Demon's lesson: don't walk in my door if you don't want to burn and melt. Never make a pact with the Devil, she will collect. Ruthlessly.
You signed in blood; now bring it.
I get it: women like me terrify the status quo. There is a reason the world-wide war on women attacks our vulva's, our sexual identity and independence. We are free. We are not afraid of fear, or passion, or anger, or truth; we accept them knowing their value and capacity to wound. Our realized vulvas, our autonomous orgasms, correlate to our fearsome independent minds. A Demon is an Arch potency that can't be controlled; it stirs the blood, a rampant hunger calling.
It lives in us all - and what if it should be unleashed?
Well? Are you in my bed, or out, little mortal?Times up.