You have become my muse.
You have infiltrated my every thought and set up camp in my quiet moments.
You are mine to redefine, change, and when the mood strikes, change again.

I can mold you into friend or foe, hero or evil doer.
I can make you sensual or rough, gentleman or rogue.

You are mine.
Mine to control.

I can make your hands clench, your muscles strain, your tongue lick.
I can make your breath falter, your nose nuzzle, your fingers coast.
I can make you love or hate, laugh or cry.

I pull the strings that make you move then give you the strings to bound my hands and do your will.
But it's really MY will.

Each thrust, each pull.
each gasp, each sigh.
I am willing it.

Each nip, each bite.
Each time your are SO close,
it's because I want it to be so.

I choose how close you are.
I choose whether or not you get there.

You are my muse.
Mine to use and discard at will.
Mine to linger over and savor if I like.

Mine.