Rose Astarte

In this second descent, I shape your breath, your need, your heat.
Your obedience becomes physical, and you begin to understand what it

Don’t confuse softness for lenience.
You’re not held for comfort.
You’re pinned for a purpose.

My thighs press like breathless prayer.
One

You always imagine this place between my legs as soft. Inviting.
And it is. At first.

But then I wrap one thigh behind your neck.
Not

Don’t expect this again. One taste, for free.
Then you beg — or you pay.

You don’t get air. You sit in your own silence.
You don’t get