Longing

my hand pressed against my own throat
thinking of him
missing him
but not just that
no
longing for him
for his touch
for his embrace
for his scent
for his body pressed against mine
for his hand around my throat
for his voice whispering in my ear
for his fingers running through my hair
caressing and then pulling
for the look of passion on his face, in his eyes
for his dominance
so that I may submit
so that I may surrender myself fully to him
so that I am reminded that I am his
all of me, every last inch

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