Cybil
On the performance floor, coquettish spandex starts a guessing game-- He wants me..he wants me not. But I am blocked from your view as your concentration narrows to a single sweet spot. In my dreams you are naked sweat beads drip down your spine marble hard muscles strain at the confines of shining skin. The wires vanish at vaulted ceilings, you must be lifted to your place. Trembling with exertion you hold the required pose for seconds stretching to eternity, a pagan messiah on your hidden iron cross. In my dreams you hang there silent and still, a marvel of restraint quaking under my touch. The lash swings at your back, makes you slave and master both. Commentators wonder at your powers, your discipline. I am lost at the word, dreams intrude into daytime visions of hard muscled mastery submitting to the training that only I can give. Risia Skye, 2001"