Year of the Inner Goddess

August 2025

The August heat pressed against my spirit like a merciless tyrant, leaving me sluggish, hot-blooded, and temperamental…a grumpy, snappish dragon. Even in the quiet sanctuary of my home, my Inner Goddess remained elusive, not even a shimmer of her imperious self, not a single lacquered nail idly tracing her lips in languid boredom. Nothing.

I blatantly lied to myself through the weekend, insisting I was not overextending for the seventh consecutive weekend. Catching my disheveled reflection in the mirror, I assured myself that I was resting and merely tending to my long list of duties from the nest of couch cushions…mostly, almost, some of them. My mind, however, had not known true reprieve. Still, I tried. I ate. I drank my water. I slipped into a lava bath, letting the steam curl about my skin, a mercurial promise of indulgence.

To my credit, my mind had been teased into wicked wakefulness by the salacious narration of my latest book, daring to flirt with a kink I had always thought beyond my taste, though in imagination it had its dark, undeniable allure. I was desperate for the restoration of my Inner Goddess and hoped, with every fiber of me, that she could be lured by such forbidden temptation.

Though Monday morning arrived with sudden wakefulness at 3 a.m., I attended to myself with astute care, each movement of the razor, each sweep of fragrant oil, a secret invocation. I bit my lower lip at the thought of us…his body crushing mine, our skin an unbroken seam, a silent liturgy I longed to enact. The workday came and went, the August sun attempting to steal the last drops of strength from my petite frame. Nevertheless, I gave myself every chance to coax my Inner Goddess from her slumber, even succumbing to the rare, stolen indulgence of a mini-nap in the sanctuary of my car. I was determined; I would assault Jack with the full, unapologetic force of my awakened goddess upon my arrival. And yet… anxiety tinged every heartbeat.

We had tried once before, days ago, to rouse my Inner Goddess. There had been a scattering of sparks flaring bright and sharp like a firecracker, only to fizzle almost immediately, leaving no thunder to shudder my bones. Little more than a hitch in my breath, a clench of muscles; a pale imitation of the power I knew could claim my body. But tonight… tonight I believed it would be different.

On my arrival at Jack’s home, after domestic order had been restored and the cat’s scowling displeasure placated, I found myself swept up in Jack’s arms, my legs instinctively curling around his waist. The collision was immediate, ravenous, a shattering lock of lips and hips that left no space between us. I adored the intimacy of it, yet my hands moved over him as if for the very first time, tracing each sinew, memorizing every ridge of muscle, mapping the landscape of his body as though committing it to memory anew.

It had been five days since his touch, and I had convinced myself I was content, yet the moment his hands claimed me, trailing intention along the gasping swell of my throat, his low, guttural growl resonating against the curve of my breast, my skin shivered in rapturous acquiescence. My body remembered a hunger I had tried to ignore, a silent starvation for touch, for heat, for the sacred communion of another’s presence. My core throbbed, demanding release, urging my Inner Goddess to stir, to rise, to take her place once more.

I poured myself into him, into us, each movement a heated insistence, every press of skin-on-skin a shiver that rippled through my spine and spiraled into my core. Each stroke, each press, each tiny friction of our bodies became a conversation of need, a silent dialogue of hunger begging to be utterly claimed. 

Jack, steadfast and unyielding in his devotion, made no demands; he met me, kiss for searing kiss, letting me dictate the rhythm, the pace, the slow unfolding of our shared, fevered dance. And yet, beneath the calm, there was a feral edge, a promise, a tether to the storm that awaited, and I found myself trembling beneath it, aching for the fire he could ignite with the gentlest press of fingers, the smallest graze of lips.

I felt the stirrings of my Inner Goddess in the tremble of my thighs, in the slick glow pooling at my apex, in the way my breath caught when his mouth brushed against the hollow of my neck. I was cautious, as if too much pressure, too much attention, might send her retreating once more behind the veil of fatigue and restraint, yet she was there, a whisper beneath the ache of anticipation. I clung to Jack, nails raking the curve of his back, lips parted, my body a vessel, prostrate and hungry, coaxed by the rhythm of his hands, the weight of his chest, the rumble of his throat.

Every gasp, every shiver, every slow, deliberate press of our bodies together fanned the embers into a steady blaze. My thoughts dissolved, dulled in the sweet ache of want, of need, of a fire long denied, each brush of skin and low, guttural growl teasing me toward ruin. Still, I longed to lure my Inner Goddess fully to the surface, to summon her in full, unrestrained glory, to feel her reign over every quiver and tremor of my flesh.

The August air clung to us, slicking our already-bared bodies in a fine sheen. When my traitorous dryness threatened to pull me from the moment, I reached for the vial beside the bed and anointed myself with a glimmer of oil, coaxing my flesh toward capitulation. I would grant my body every possible advantage, offer her every key to the locked chamber of pleasure.

My flesh answered Jack’s splitting thrust on instinct, arching, clenching, yielding. My eyes fluttered shut, head tilting back, awash in the decadent carnality of our union. Yes…yes…this was exactly what I wanted. I would take it. I would demand it.

And yet… my Inner Goddess lingered just beyond the veil, her voice an echo, her touch only memory. I could taste the ghosts of former glory, the remembered blaze, the intoxicating spark, but each flare burned too bright and brief, counted too easily to three before guttering to darkness. No shift of angle, no sly grind of hips, no sudden bite of his teeth into my shoulder could rouse her fully. She remained maddeningly aloof, as if watching from some distant balcony, content to let me falter in the void of her absence.

I tried to keep my expression light, my tone untroubled, though my teeth ground in silent curse at the mortal frailty of my betraying flesh. Jack did not press. His calm was unshaken, though I felt the pull of his hunger, as fierce as mine, yet so great was his love, he kept it tightly leashed beneath the surface. He knew me too well to be deceived; he knew I could not feign what was absent. And still, I sensed the restless beast inside him, pacing, its dark magic curling through the air, calling to the sleeping goddess in me with words I could not hear. I adored him for it. 

And I, gods help me, wanted to weep for her return.

Then came the morning.

I woke from a rare and blissful trance, unexpectedly refreshed, clear-minded, and…was that a slow, smouldering passion unfurling deep at my core? Still as stone in the cradle of my pillow, I let my awareness seep downward, exploring the territory of my own flesh. I throbbed, I ached, with a yearning I could neither deny nor delay. If my Inner Goddess truly stood at the precipice of her reemergence, who was I to bar the gate?

And yet… something stayed my hand from caressing Jack’s slumbering form beside me.

What if I roused Jack only for my body to betray me again? What if the pleasure I sought dissolved into tears before the sun had even crowned the horizon? I could not bear the thought of fleeing to my work with salt upon my cheeks and the weight of fresh defeat pressing on my chest.

Nevertheless, beneath the covers, the radiance of him hummed against my fingertips, a sleeping furnace, a god in quiet exile. I told myself I would only trace the breadth of his chest, my long nails gliding lightly, not enough to score red furrows… though the temptation was there. This was a good sign! My fingers descended in slow pilgrimage, brushing lower, until at last they found the thickness of him, slumbering and relaxed.

A low groan escaped him as my hand slipped lower still, marveling at the heft of his jewels, those tremendous, decadent things that made my toes curl. The memory of their weight striking against me sent a dark flutter through my belly, my breath growing shallow. Perhaps this was what my Inner Goddess required, the darkness of pre-dawn, the heat of a sleeping god, the indulgence of her own secret rites. My hand moved again, back and forth, and Jack’s quiet groans filled the room, each one a shadowed hymn. His sword began to stir beneath my touch, the flesh swelling with slow inevitability.

But hesitation tightened its cold fist around my heart. My resolution wavered like a candle in a sudden draft. I began to withdraw, resignation seeping from every pore. I was broken… abandoned by my Inner Goddess. Moreover, there was the inexorable summons of adulthood’s demands, reminding the hours were not my own. 

The sound he made then was no human thing, a low, feral growl that seemed to vibrate in my bones. In an instant, Jack rose and rolled me beneath him, straddling me as his mouth descended in a kiss that stole the very breath from my lungs. Shocked at his unexpected wakefulness, I clung to him, my nails embedded into the broad expanse of his back, pleasure scattering like stars over my skin. 

And yet… I could tell. My Inner Goddess lingered behind her veil, watching with a cool indifference. I knew it, and still, I did not care. He was magnificent. He had taken control, his body caging mine, arms braced to either side. I yielded without resistance, letting the shadows coil around me, binding me in their velvet embrace, as a smile of exquisite delight curved my lips.

If I were late for work, well… it could hardly be my fault. I was just a girl, caught beneath the will of a god.

A fine sheen of oil again glossed my apex, catching the faint glimmer of starlight, and with one sudden, jarring thrust, Jack claimed me. I felt it, oh, I felt it, the quickening of my blood, the tremor of something perilously close to breaking free. The need swelled, mounting, the wave beginning to rise. Jack knew. He always knew. He followed the smallest quiver of my body, reading me as though he could see through the darkness, driving deeper, the swollen crown of him demanding I answer.

And thank the gods, this time, I did.

With my knees drumming against my shoulders, the absent fire licked its way through me. No, it was not yet the wild inferno I craved, but after weeks of arid ache, I would take any flame my body granted. The crest broke, and I bit hard into the blankets, stifling my short cry as it tore the pre-dawn stillness.

It ended too soon. Far too soon. Again, there were no lingering tremors to claim me, no intoxicating aftershocks to shudder my bones into sweet exhaustion. The silence within my body was almost cruel, and my brow furrowed in quiet disappointment.

Yet…there had been more this time. More heat, more spark, a sharper edge to the pleasure before it slipped away. A flicker, faint but true, in the long-dark hearth of my desire. It was not enough, but it was something. And in that small victory, I rejoiced.

An irresistible idea surged through my mind. With slow insistence, I coaxed Jack to recline, threading my legs beneath his in a daring reversal of dominance, a sort of reverse cowgirl, yet not straddling him fully. I remained on all fours, impaling myself upon him as his fingers curled around my hips, granting me absolute command over every movement, though he could pull me back with the quiet strength of his grip.

It was a position I claimed, rather presumptuously, to have invented ages ago, one I reserved for rare, almost sacred occasions. For it exposed me utterly, the rounded swell of my buttocks bared in a manner at once scandalous and outrageous. In the private theater of my mind, I had christened it King and Slave, so named because I touched him as little as possible, as though unworthy of the full indulgence, while the gentleman beneath need exert only the slightest effort to possess me entirely.

The perversity of the inversion curled my lips into a slow, wicked smile. My mind spun dark narration as I drove myself down again and again, meeting the invisible, relentless length of him. God, he never failed me. Ever rock-hard, unyielding, ever-present, he was exactly what I craved. And I did crave him: his soft effulgence, his breath, the iron steadiness of his chest beneath me, the subtle tremor in his restraint. Yet, even in this audacious position, my body and my Inner Goddess remained stubbornly inert, refusing to rise to the occasion. Every nerve quivered with anticipation, every pulse cried out to succumb, and still… she remained inaccessible to the almost frantic energy I poured into coaxing her from her shadowed retreat.

I would not be defeated just yet. With an enticing, sinuous grace, I rolled over, straddling his hips at last, claiming his kisses, nuzzling the hollow of his neck, yielding to the soft, fading starlight that pooled across the room. We moved together, bodies attuned in our familiar rhythm, the ache mounting, each motion coaxing my dormant fire. Perhaps it was not as fierce as I had imagined, yet it was working.

Three waves swept through me. I wrestled with my mind, refusing to mourn their muted intensity; these small sparks, these stolen flames, were more than I had been capable of summoning in weeks, and for that, I let myself be quietly grateful. My mind, already retreating, began to set itself toward the day ahead, reluctantly disentangling from the lingering ardor and stolen sparks of the night.

Jack chose that precise, torrid moment to claim one of my dangling breasts with his mouth, swirling his tongue over my nipple with proprietary ease. A jolt shot through me. I gasped, pulling away slightly

“Don’t,” I whispered, giggling, “you’ll make me need my vibrator… and I really, really can’t be late.”

I felt his wicked grin press against the sensitive curve of my breast. Jack did not relent. I sighed, relinquishing my will all too easily to the ravishing torment. My fingers fumbled along the ledge above him until they found my device. With Elysiancare, I positioned it just to the left of my pearl. A long, guttural groan tore from my throat as familiar, shivering waves surged through me. Yes… yes… yes. This would work.

Jaw locked, eyes clenched, I traced each quivering thread of sensation, breathing life into every molten nerve, coaxing them to ignite. I felt Jack beneath me, his body humming in response to the tightening coil of my core. Each muscle wound taut as I rolled my hips in rhythm, using him to chase the pleasures long denied. Silently, I begged the gods, fate, any immortal that would listen: “Please, return my Inner Goddess to me.”

Jack’s grip clenched my hips like iron, each thrust a thunderous, blind symphony that set every nerve ablaze. When he paused, it left my body trembling on the knife-edge of need. I repositioned the device, cranked it mercilessly to its highest intensity, and finally… flames erupted! Vast, insatiable, utterly consuming me, lapping through every fiber, every pulse, until I was nothing but raw torridity and shuddering flesh, moving in perfect, merciless rhythm with the shared, unrelenting beat of him beneath me.

I could feel the tremors coil and rebound through my spine, through the swell of my breasts, down the arch of my thighs, all the way to my toes, where the waves finally shattered in shuddering release. My breath came in ragged, exquisite gasps, my body quaking, utterly undone, every inch of me aflame, and yet held in the tether of the god beneath me. The room was a blur of sensation, heat, pressure, pulse, and the dark, erotic scent of our mingled skin.

The fire did not ebb. It roared, surged, higher, deeper, dragging me over the precipice again and again, a relentless tide that consumed every fiber of my being. I was utterly possessed, each groan, each shiver, a sacred hymn to the worship of my own abandon. My Inner Goddess had risen, fierce and untamed. The familiar shattering, the rending of soul and mind, claimed me wholly once more, and I surrendered, trembling, to the exquisite annihilation of ecstasy.

Finally, gasping, slick, trembling, my body spent yet still alive with residual fire, I collapsed into him. And then the tears came, unstoppable. The dam of weeks, months, of frustration, yearning, and quiet despair shattered. They spilled freely, soaking his chest as he held me close. Tremors and aftershocks racked my body, shaking every sinew as if I were possessed. It was an ugly, unrestrained cry, raw and mercilessly cathartic.

Jack cradled me, shoulder heavy and solid against my sobs, bearing the weight of the world as it poured from me. My sobs and stifled wails carved hollows into the quiet, my heart laid bare, yet all the while he whispered precious things, words that only my soul could translate, soothing, grounding, arcane.

Gradually, the tremors subsided, leaving only a fine, lingering quiver, a subtle echo of the conflagration that had claimed me. My damp cheek rested against the swell of his chest, reluctant to relinquish even a heartbeat, drinking in the warmth, the steady, insistent pulse beneath my ear, the susurrus of words meant solely for me. 

I had not noticed when he had slipped from my apex, yet our bodies remained conjoined, fused in quiet, molten communion. Each stolen second hung suspended, rare and sacrosanct, beyond the reach of the day’s encroaching demands. I could not, would not, release them, for in that hallowed instant, I was entirely, irrevocably, gloriously alive.

At last, I rose, fingers flitting through my morning ablutions, yet my mind strayed, tracing the lingering sparks that shimmered beneath my skin, savoring the kinetic stirrings of my Inner Goddess. A buoyant, almost rapturous lightness had claimed me, weeks of tension and absence dissolving into the exquisite confirmation that, for this sacred, suspended moment, she had awakened. Tentatively, I coaxed at the stirrings within: yes, she was there, diaphanous, nearly translucent, yet her presence was a faint ember that threaded through every nerve. Relief unfurled in me like a slow, intoxicating tide, curling through my limbs, sustaining the very marrow of my being.

A private, knowing smile teased my lips as I stepped into the world, the morning sun gilding my path. Heart thrumming with the secret, sacrosanct incandescence of her awakening, I moved light-footed, each step a whispered homage to her return, carrying the knowledge that the goddess within was finally stirring, that at last I was whole. And this, this radiant, clandestine awakening was but the first breath of her glorious resurgence.

Until next time, XO. Elsie