That I was alone in the room only added to the feeling of spiritual repression. As a poet I need to be excited, given sensory input. Driven to add som...thing to the lonely room, I continued my oration. ‘Cold eyes to warm, soft flesh to flush, I only love you more when you blush.’ I liked that, the way it rolled off my tongue. ‘Quiet to shake, stillness to quake…’ No, something was wrong. Intuiting it after a few moments, I tried again. ‘Quiet to break, stillness to quake, I long to hold you. I let my hands wander over my body, caressing myself through the thin cotton of the blouse, before I slipped it off my shoulders and let it fall to the floor. I could feel his eyes on me like a physical thing through the unwavering gaze of the camera, as I unhooked the bra and slid my hands over my breasts, feeling my nipples harden.Our relationship is built on a simple premise: he tells me what to do, and I do it. When we first met six years ago, I'd just come out of a long and vaguely. More

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