The Rush Master

In quiet contemplation suddenly she feels him
His silken breath along her naked neck
A barely detectable touch, gentle brush
And out of waking she is awakened
Into altered states where in her nightmares he awaits

A rousing deep within her chest
Renders her will to react in ways most unexpected
And all too familiar for her moral comfort
Too persuasive to overcome or forbear he sends her
Floating within a gossamer velvet mist

Far away she hears a hint of wicked smirk
Without a single stroke her body consumed by heated rush
The spell of languor sabotage her resistance and put her to shame
Though desire for his charms set her essence aflame

A single kiss barely felt upon her blushing lips
The warmth of his spectral embrace surrounds her hips
A fire ignited soon escalates and she has forgotten her virtue
Reduced to a savage of locomotive biology and urgency

Brought to her knees desire pleads for release
A bowed head a whispered beg breathing heaves
A phantom vision is he, epicurean witch of lechery
Thriving within her very being feeding off lustful energies
Demanding from she full attention to service his erotic needs

Such malicious hatred seethes from she
For he cages her in lock and key
Stripped of her humility and dignity weakened
She curses the very nature of his existence within

And yet...
At that moment when such rewarded release erupts
Sending ecstasy flooding into all elements of body mind and soul
Not an adverse word can be heard, not one
In silence, though no secret to him she anticipates with fervor
When again he whispers her name and sends her blood to rush