I feel the room pulse around me, their breaths shallow, charged, and heavy.
Gathered close, bodies tense above, each one ready, eyes locked onto me.

The first warm ribbon lands, hot and smooth, tracing down my skin, and then another, a warm sticky touch that blooms and spreads, each one hitting, marking, claiming me. 

My lips part, a shiver courses through me, more follows, splashing warm over bare skin. I feel alive, soaked in the thrill, feeling a slow smile curve my lips.

The pleasure of surrender and the power of being seen, each pulse a decadent, dirty triumph.