Submerged (Poem & Behind-The-Scenes)

Submerged BTS - Poem by Greta Stone

 

This poem was written from a daily prompt hosted by DimpleVerse (rendezvous) and TastyPoem (immerse/submerge) on Twitter.  ❤ See more frequent posts on Twitter (text only) and Instagram (with graphics).

Small talk
submerged
by the need
for deeper
contemplations,
a renezvous
of souls.

© Greta Stone

 

Behind-The-Scenes

Instead of my first reaction of rendezvous leads to immersion, I’d like to reverse that. Immersion leads to a rendezvous of [minds].

Immersed
in [conversation]
[something]
a rendezvous
of mind/spirit/soul

I like the concept of souls at the end. I’m thinking of switching to submerged.

[talk]
submerged
by [desire]
to join
a rendezvous
of souls

Talk, small talk, chatter

Small talk
submerged
by…

Desire, thirst [for deeper things]

Small talk
submerged
by the need
for deeper
contemplations,
a rendezvous
of souls.

First Touch (Poem & Behind-The-Scenes)

 

First Touch, sexy poetry

This poem was written from a daily prompt hosted by DsubVerse on Twitter.  The title is the prompt word. ❤ See more frequent posts on Twitter (text only) and Instagram (with graphics).

I want to bury
my face in
your warm, soft
skin that never
sees the sun.
With the
first touch,
you swell
for me and
I devour.

~Greta Stone

 

Behind-The-Scenes

While daydreaming, soft, warm skin that never sees the sun came to me. I started writing it into a poem, then went to check for any prompts to add to it. With the first touch fit well.

the soft, warm
skin that never
sees the sun.
[something]
with the
first touch

Going back, it was easy to add an opening, converting the to your.

I want to bury
my face in
your soft, warm
skin that never
sees the sun.
[something]
with the
first touch

When thinking of the something, I decided to switch it up.

I want to bury
my face in
your soft, warm
skin that never
sees the sun.
With the
first touch,
you…

What would he do? Respond. But that’s too generic. Get hard but that’s too obvious. Also, I like ambiguity and I want the poem to work for all genders.

I want to bury
my face in
your soft, warm
skin that never
sees the sun.
With the
first touch,
you swell
for me and
I …

Eat? haha Inhale? Devour. Yes, that. Also, I keep wanting to read warm, soft instead of soft, warm so I switch it.

I want to bury
my face in
your warm, soft
skin that never
sees the sun.
With the
first touch,
you swell
for me and
I devour.

BDSM short fiction

White

Preface

If you’ve been following me at all, you know the sexy nature of my poetry. Here, I share (for the first time) a very short story of the same nature. Enjoy.

{996 words}


I sat in a lukewarm bath, bored and irritated. He’d texted me an hour earlier.

Him:
Run a hot bath and soak. Use a cinnamon & ginger bath bomb. Drink one glass of pinot noir. Await further instructions.

There was little I loathed more than confining myself to an uncomfortable, hard bin full of rapidly cooling water which made it impossible to either read a book (lest the pages curl with humidity) or watch my favorite show (lest the tablet fall into said water and it die.)

But I did it. For him.

When my phone buzzed on the tile floor, I lifted one dripping, wrinkly hand out of the murky, suds-free water and reached for a towel. 

Him:
Be downstairs in 30 minutes. Dress up. 3” heels or higher. No panties. Put your hair up.
Sit in the exact center of the white sofa in the lobby, ankles crossed, left over right.
I will arrive between 8:12 and 8:36.
You will wait there in that position.
You will be alone on the sofa.

Alone on the sofa? All of his instructions were in my control except for that. How the hell–

Him:
Do you have any questions?

I’d find a way.

Me:
No, Sir.

Him:
If you fail to fulfill my request, you’ll not be able to walk for a week.

My heart raced at the threat and promise. He’d done it before. And while a part of me longed for his fury, my ass, numb from the hard bottom of the tub, did not.

Me:
Yes, Sir.

Exactly 30 minutes later, I took my place in the center of the stretched white sofa in the ornate yet modern lobby. Room for two or three people stretched on each side of me. With only a few other people milling about, I took a refreshing breath. Maybe I wouldn’t have to fight anyone  off after all.

Sitting, I tugged the hem of my pencil skirt down just over the curve of my knees, crossed my 3” t-strap heels at the ankle, left over right, and tucked a wisp of hair behind my ear.

Twenty minutes later, at 7:52, the lobby began to fill up with couples in gowns and black bow ties. Nervous, I fiddled with my fingers in my lap. He wasn’t even due for at least another 15 minutes. What was his plan? And why were there so many people around?

At 8:07 a silver-haired man with a hefty girth sat beside me. The woman with him, thin and delicate, sat, too.

“Hello,” the man said with a gravelly voice and a nod.

“Hi.” I smiled but inside my stomach whipped up into a whirl. How would I get rid of them? I couldn’t be rude. I had to act quickly or they might get settled and stay.

“I’m so sorry but I’m saving these seats for a friend.”

The man scowled at me.

“…who has trouble walking the full distance from the door to the ballroom.” What the hell was I even saying? I wasn’t sure. But the man and woman stood and walked away.

The lobby was now packed. Fifty…or a hundred people stood about, waiting for something. Some balanced the thin stem of a wine glass between their fingers. Some held napkins with fancy hors d’oeuvres, though I could see neither a bar nor trays of food over the height of the crowd around me.

At 8:21 a beautiful young woman in a sparkling purple gown sat beside me.

“Hello!” 

She was too enthusiastic. Too excited. What did she know that I didn’t?

“Are you here alone, too?,” she said. “Thank God! We can stick together.”

Where were “we”? What was she talking about?

“I’m actually waiting for someone,” I said, wracking my brain for a way to get rid of her before he showed up. My ass throbbed in warning of my promised punishment.

Her shoulders sunk. “Oh. I guess I’m the only one then. I should have known better than to come to a wedding without a date.”

Wedding caught me mid-swallow, sending me into a coughing fit. He wouldn’t. We’re not… I sucked fruitlessly at the air, unable to catch my breath, sputtering and coughing.

We’d never been in public together. Didn’t know any of the same people. Avoided all chances of pictures in order to prolong our privacy and the nature of our relationship.

The woman stared wide-eyed at me as my choking began to catch the attention of nearby onlookers.

It hit me then that I could use this to get rid of her. I pointed at my throat and exaggerated another cough. “Water,” I whispered.

Her brows shot up and she stood quickly. “Oh! Yes. I’ll be right back.”

She disappeared through the crowd, parting it in her wake as I regained control of myself. With one last swallow, I raised my head, squared my shoulders, and caught his eye through the maze of people between us.

He paused, took note of the empty sofa beside me, and pulled half his mouth into a smile. Recovering himself, he strode straight toward me, wedding guests flowing out of his way as if there were some invisible force moving them.

When he reached me, he held out his hand, smiling. “Miss Adesso.”

I placed my hand in his and stood. “Mr. Burke.”

Tucking my arm under his and wrapping my hand around his forearm, he leaned in to kiss my ear, inhaling. “I could eat you right here.”

My neck and face flushed hot. Could everyone tell I was bare beneath my skirt?

He grinned as I squirmed.

“What are we doing here?” I asked.

“We’re going to a wedding.”

My eyes shot open. “Whose?”

“Don’t know. We’re crashing.” He leaned in to whisper. “And you’re going to come before we leave tonight.”


I’ve shared this story in full as it was originally written. If you’re interested in seeing more of Miss Adesso and Mr. Burke’s night, please persuade me to write it by commenting below. ~___^

Thank you for reading!

Guide* (Poem & Behind-The-Scenes)

guide poem by Greta Stone D/s Dom sub

This poem was written from a daily prompt hosted by Tasty Poem on Twitter.  The title is the prompt word. ❤ See more frequent posts on Twitter (text only) and Instagram (with graphics).

Absorbed
in you
I am blind
to the world,
your touch
my anchor,
your voice
my guide.

~Greta Stone

 

Behind-The-Scenes

I want it to be about the absolute trust a sub has for her Dom, that he knows her 100%, what she can handle and what she needs.

[blindfolded/dark]
your voice
my guide

I don’t necessarily want a literal blindfold, but a conscious one, like when the whole world is shut off except his touch at the moment.

Oblivious,
the world
reduced
to your touch,
I am blind,
your touch
my anchor,
your voice
my guide.

I can’t have touch twice.

Oblivious,
the world
reduced
to you,
I am blind,
your touch
my anchor,
your voice
my guide.

The opening is a bit stuttery and I don’t think it’s portraying the message I intend. Oblivious can be taken in a negative way but I don’t mean for it to be.

Absorbed
in you
I am blind
to the world,
your touch
my anchor,
your voice
my guide.

Surge (Poem & Behind-The-Scenes)

Surge - Poem by Greta Stone

 

This poem was written from a daily prompt hosted by Tasty Poem on Twitter.  The title is the prompt word. This was my most popular poem for the second half of May. ❤ See more frequent posts on Twitter (text only) and Instagram (with graphics).

I curb you
advances
until a
tidal surge
of lust
engulfs me
and I indulge

~Greta Stone

 

Behind-The-Scenes

What comes to me right away is:

a tidal surge of love

Totally cliche but I plan to fix that.

[does something endearing]
[which leads to]
a tidal surge of love

Or what if I’m fighting love, putting up walls, and it overcomes me. I like that better.

[resist your advances]
until a
tidal surge of love
engulfs me

Love is really irritating me. Way TF too cliche. Lust? Meh, we’ll see. I use that a lot.

[resist your advances]
until a
tidal surge of lust
engulfs me

I do some thesaurus searching on resist which leads to curb.

I curb my
[feelings for you]
until a
tidal surge
of lust
engulfs me
[and I cave/indulge?]

Thesaurus: feelings attraction appeal advances. I’ve come full circle to my earlier word.

I curb your
advances
until a
tidal surge
of lust
engulfs me
and I indulge

Meh. It’ll do. I’m tired today.

Funny that you all loved it so much on Twitter. I ❤ my fans.

Tangled Hues of Red (Poem & Behind-The-Scenes)

Tangled Hues of Red - Poem by Greta Stone

 

This poem was written from a daily prompt hosted by MadVerse on Twitter.  The title is the prompt phrase. ❤ See more frequent posts on Twitter (text only) and Instagram (with graphics).

In my green
I haunt you
to paralyze
my blue.
When at last
you beg,
I come in
tangled
hues of red.

~Greta Stone

 

Behind-The-Scenes

Tangled hues of red immediately made me think of tangled sheets and red, swollen body parts. (Big surprise.) So I started with…

come in
tangled
hues of red

I knew that would be the closing because it packs punch. To open, I wanted contrast. The complement to red is green. The most obvious way to use green is to represent envy or jealousy.

In my green [jealousy]
I stalk you
[some other action]
and
come in
tangled
hues of red

I felt it needed a beat in between. Something else needed to happen between the stalk and the come. Plus I like odd numbers (as we’ve discussed) so I wanted a third color. Blue came to mind first, representing sadness and depression.

In my green [jealousy]
I stalk you
to chase away
my blue [sadness]
_________
and
come in
tangled
hues of red [passion]

Chase away… bleh. I did some searching for a better word. Paralyze went perfect with stalking. There still needed to be a beat before coming, unless I planned to rape the subject of the poem. haha

In my green [jealousy]
I stalk you
to paralyze
my blue [sadness]
until finally
you yield
and I
come in
tangled
hues of red [passion]

Finally throws off the rhythm. And yield is weak.

In my green [jealousy]
I haunt you
to paralyze
my blue. [sadness]
When at last
you beg,
I come in
tangled
hues of red. [passion]

Perfect. I love the accidental rhyming of you/blue and beg/red.