In another world...

There is a world, relatively unknown to civilized humankind. Or perhaps it is a known world but because humankind considers itself to be civilized, then it sometimes chooses to be extremely myopic. That doesn't make it less of a world, but it makes it a very difficult world to understand. Because what is different doesn't come with a manual instruction leaflet, hence the people living in this world and following its lifestyle prefer to keep it under wraps. Quite understandable, because it is no lifestyle for just anybody, it is a lifestyle based primarily upon instinct and its awkward perceptions, the pleasure and the pain of the flesh, and the twists of the mind. Yes it wrecks all superimposed beliefs of what should have been and what should be. Nevertheless, it is a world of rapture so high that one finds total freedom within the shackles. Within this world opposites survive, for the same reason that if one had to never know the darkest of sadness then one would never be able to grasp fully the meaning of happiness. It is the world of obedience brought on by disobedience, of becoming fearless through the fear, of lusting after the welts after being turned on by the perversion of the lash. A girl is there to do all, all that is required of her. In return she will be given her freedom, only to walk right back to where she belongs. Her mental thoughts are not hers, her feelings are always shared, and she proudly bears the pain of the lash which provided the welts which in turn give way to extreme lustful pleasure. Because the welts are her reminder that she's been taken, broken and she is His. She looks to Him, in Him for direction, and He is lost without her. And the ache is over and the tears have been wiped down gently with a hand like no other. His hand, caressing with soft brush strokes, fingers tracing the path to Neverland, taking their time, moving fluidly, articulating a carnal code so unique, because the strong hands possess a giving girl on the edge of a shimmering note.