She is the last woman I held naked in my arms.
I do not want for another.
The ropes. The blindfold. The cuffs of rare craftsmanship and rich black leather. The antique riding crop. The multi-tailed flogger. The steel pin-wheel, The clamps. The toys of deep pleasure. The tools of sweet pain.
All lie unused, safely hidden away in their case.
Past lovers are completely forgotten. They are but shadows inhabiting the past. No one else arouses me, excites me, thrills me.
I have no hunger, no desire, no need.
No appetite, no yearning, no ache.
No thirst, no urge, no lust.
I am pure. I am celibate. I am cold.
Yet the moment I think of her, my body responds.
She makes me hard.