January 2025 – Audio Version
Like Eve’s brush with temptation, the rope wound around me—satin, seductive, and inevitable. It slid over my collarbone, its touch gentle yet unmistakably deliberate, like the serpent’s velvety murmurs in the Garden of Eden. The binding curled from one shoulder to the other, tracing the soft curve of my neck, a caress both dangerous and inviting. With a subtle twist, the cord climbed the ladder of my spine, sinuous and languid, as if it were tasting the very essence of my body. It dripped down, its weight pressing against my breastbone before gliding beneath my bosom, claiming me in ways I didn’t fully understand. I froze, the breath in my lungs caught between longing and fear. My skin, hypersensitive, hummed beneath the touch, electric with anticipation. The winter air kissed the bare flesh of my arms and abdomen, cool against the fire igniting inside me. Denim wrapped my thighs and calves like a second skin. My feet, bare on the maple floor, felt the weight of my indecision, the earth both grounding and alien.
I closed my eyes, unsure whether I was fleeing the temptation or yielding to it.
The rope wound around my abdomen, a serpent coiling its way around my body, imposing just enough to coax the rhythm of my breath into slower, more deliberate gasps. Each turn mirrored the serpent’s soporific, deliberate slither, winding deeper, compressing, as though it sought to entangle not only my body but my soul. The brilliant strands wrapped around me, a seductive pressure that beckoned, pulling me closer into its embrace. In an odd way, it was a comfort, soothing something deep within me that lay dormant, rarely untouched, in the shadows of my being. My Inner Goddess stirred, roused by the pressure, her wings unfurling under the heat of allure, her feathers reaching for what she knew she could never resist. I felt the pull, the dangerous closure of my prison, and with it came a strange, veiled sense of freedom.
Behind me, the Archangel directed the serpent, the strands tightening around me with precision, each motion deliberate. The slithering obeyed his will, becoming an extension of his power, guided by his holiness. Skimming my skin, his touch was light, almost reverent. It was as though he were both protector and master, guiding the rope with the authority of one who knew its power and understood its fanged dangers. His fingers grazed my bare flesh, and I felt the subtle hum of his sanctity, a presence that resonated about the boudoir.
In the silence of eventide, I remembered other ropes—harsh, direct that demanded my absolute surrender. No questions asked. Those had been gods, brash and confident in their limitless control. But this… this was different. The Archangel was patient, measured, almost tender, as if afraid of what my reactions might reveal. Nevertheless, my poor body responded well, softening beneath his caution, warming to his presence. My Inner Goddess was drawn to the cords like Eve to the serpent. She craved brutish control and the coarse bite of jute. Hungry for the dangerous, the illicit. She awakened something dark and feral within me, pulling me towards an elusive surrender.
I shook my head as if to rid myself of the serpent’s guile, but it was already too late. My body, like Eve’s before the apple, had succumbed to the allure of the exceptional, melting in the unworldly contrast of silken murmurs against hypersensitive skin. The very air around me thickened, each stroke a dangerous promise, as the serpent hissed in my ear. I could feel it—an intoxicating sweetness, like the forbidden fruit, drawing me deeper into its web. I felt the pull, and like my Foremother, I succumbed, trembling under the hypnotic weight of the serpent’s hushed tones. I basked in the lingering sensations, every movement a temptation I could no longer resist.
To the side, Jack and Seraphina the Archai were becoming better acquainted. Through my lowered lashes, I caught fleeting glimpses of their interaction—an almost imperceptible caress of fingers, the formality of their first, careful exchange, each movement laced with an unspoken curiosity. My wings, folded and hidden, fluttered at the edges of my awareness, their tremors mirroring the anxious, eager beat of my heart.
Still working my restraint, the Archangel stood firmly behind me. My mind wavered between uncertainty and intrigue—fear, the instinct to protect myself, and the undeniable call to explore the unknown. Should I remain in this moment, where the boundaries of body and soul entwine, or was there still time to retreat? My thoughts grew reflective. There was no legitimate threat, no red flags, only the ghosts—dark phantoms of my past lingering at the edges of my vision. Yet, for my Inner Goddess, the question was already answered. The Archangel’s careful attention, the diaphanous glow of Seraphina, was Pandora’s box, begging to be opened.
Like Eve standing before the serpent, my Inner Goddess felt the flicker of his tongue against my skin, mingling with the Archangel’s husky breath as it caressed my exposed neck and petite shoulder. My Inner Goddess swayed, drawn to the enigmatic mystique. Desire unfurled, undulating in my belly, intertwining with the serpent’s seduction, giving over to its bewitchment.
The serpentine fetters did something powerful—something I couldn’t resist. The heavy place of past pain, so deeply embedded in my heart, filled with protective fear and anxious insecurity that too often seized control, found a strange comfort in the pressure of my restraints. Held in their comforting grasp, my Inner Goddess was finally allowed to flourish.
Gleefully, my thoughts pirouetted as I examined the Archangel’s masterpiece, each wreathe of rope entwining my body like a brilliant rainbow of art. It was an entirely unexpected treat. The tight line at my throat was just dominant enough to demand my attention but not restrict my breath—unless, of course, a being grasped the bound handle created by the Archangel. My Inner Goddess licked her lips in anticipation. I bounced on my tiptoes before my reflection, my Inner Goddess making the decision, the serpent’s spell pulling me downward toward the ineffable.
My companions admired the Archangel’s handiwork, and my grin beamed. But what came next? I was willing to surrender, but what was the next step? Thankfully, the Archangel was once more the architect, jovially bemoaning the coverage of my bralette, which masked some of the lure of the ropes. My Inner Goddess grew impish as if a mere bra could stop us. With a flick, I unlatched the clasp at the back, allowing the midnight straps to fall from each shoulder before slipping my arms free, then pulling the bra through the ropes and casting it aside with dramatic audacity. It was a bold move, meant to be playful. But what if I’d missed the mark? What if it was weird or childish? Damn, my Inner Goddess. The brashness of it flamed my cheeks, a blush of embarrassment rising.
I don’t remember the series of events or how they transpired exactly. My anxiety exploited my moment of weakness; my mind fuzzed, fragmented, a blur of sensation and desire, unraveling the very threads of my core within the confines of my bindings. The Archangel’s strong arms wrapped around my bare waist as he bent his head to mine. His lips—full, sure—pressed against mine, and the world seemed to pulse around the four of us. There were flashes—twinkle lights, the groan of the bed, the removal of my jeans—and through the fog, I felt the pressure of the rope handle against my spine, a tingle running down my body as though the serpent’s forked tongue had slithered across me. My Inner Goddess sighed, low and deep, responding to the seduction of four palpitating heartbeats. Pandora’s box had been opened, and there was no turning back.
Next to me lay Seraphina, in all her Elvin grace. We lay head to hip, giving me the perfect view of her. The soft light from the table cast gentle shadows along her perfectly mounded breasts, accentuating the ethereal light that seemed to emanate from her, radiating outward from her flawless milky skin. My Inner Goddess inhaled, captivated, caught in the quiet reverence of her presence. I shuttered my gaze, but my Inner Goddess did not—enthralled by the raw beauty before us, her gaze lingered, unashamed.
The Archangel knelt at the edge of the bed, exuding a sure confidence that kept me from clamping my legs together or uttering words that might suggest he need not perform such a task. While I found myself enjoying the worship more and more, the wraiths of my past still managed to whisper their lies, especially with new beings… though I was still susceptible to the deception, even with veteran lovers.
I inhaled deeply, steadying my breath, drawing it slow and even despite the rapid pounding of my heartbeat as I waited for the first touch. Just as he had wound the tendrils around my chest with care and precision, so too did he now administer his caresses. Sacred kisses fell like cherubim feathers across the expanse of my skin, his hands worshiping even as they explored. Drawn-out, calculated trails with his hands soothed my fears while igniting my Inner Goddess. I tried to remain still as the moments passed, resisting the urge to beg, choosing to lose myself in the slow, deliberate sumptuousness of it all. My Inner Goddess was a ravenous thing wanting to ignore the needs of my body, who was delighting in the gradual building to something more intimate.
The fineness of his touch was a seduction all its own—deliberate, fluid, and unbearably precise. Each brush of his fingers seemed to write a new command upon my skin, drawing sharp gasps from my lips as my body responded without hesitation. With the first slow lap of his broad tongue, I felt my control falter. By the second, my eyes fluttered shut, surrendering to the pull of his attention. By the third, I bit into my knuckle, desperate to stifle the cries threatening to escape as I held onto the last threads of my composure.
The Archangel pressed his face into my offering with reverence, his every movement amplifying the fire already lit by the evening—the charged exchanges, the communion of souls through words, and the tantalizing sting of the ropes encircling my body. The serpent’s unyielding coils had bound me, but it was the weight of my surrender that shattered something deep within, exposing me to the Eden of the moment.
A low groan escaped me, muffled by the comforter Jack had so thoughtfully folded at the foot of the bed. My body bowed, yielding completely to the darkness that cradled me and called my secret name. The rope at my throat tightened. Further, each pull a demand on my breath, a reminder of the serpent’s presence. The pressure grew, not as a punishment but as a seduction that coaxed me closer to the edge of my own mortality. My body fractured beneath his continued adoration, each colorful strand marking me as both captive and queen of my illusive Eden.
Flashes began—brief, bright, and fleeting. Each one flared and hummed with the promise of more, building on the last like a melody rising in intensity. The Archangel’s skillful touch, coupled with the deliberate press of indomitable fingers against my inner jewel, ignited them. One by one, they grew brighter, more brilliant, like fireworks painting the sky in bursts of ephemeral beauty. These bursts of light, so stark and vibrant, mirrored the ophidian ropes that clung to my body. Its rigid presence stretched across my straining muscles. Each eruption of color penetrated my darkness, and my moans morphed into cries of release, offerings of my surrender—complete, inevitable, and final.
I don’t know how long I lay there, a mess of euphoric haze. My mind continued to sink deeper, my legs trembling pillars on either side of the Archangel’s head. Beside me, sprawled Seraphina and Jack mirrored the celestial being between my thighs. Seraphina’s delicate sighs and moans melded with the sultry tones drifting from the speaker, the symphony of sound weaving around us in perfect congruence.
Though my eyes remained closed, my flesh quivering, I sensed the world around me began to shift. The mattress groaned, reacting to the weight of the God and the Celestial mounting the bed. My Inner Goddess raised an eyebrow, a trace of disappointment crossing her features at having somehow missed the disrobing of the deities. But her disapproval was short-lived, quickly muted by the return of the Archangel’s full, unrelenting embrace, his lips brushing mine as he loomed over me. Shy crimson blossomed on my cheeks, a flush hidden beneath the Archangel’s own ruddy glow. His breath skimmed the curve of my neck, leaving my skin tingling beneath its heat.
Seismic tremors coursed through the bed, each one rippling through my body in waves. My Inner Goddess stretched luxuriously, basking in the sheer, obdurate pleasure, her delight a triumphant ode to my Consort’s mastery. Her grin was wicked, laced with both pride and anticipation, reveling in the unspoken vow reclamation.
I stole a glance, my vision momentarily consumed by the delicate dance of opposites inches from me—the Yin and Yang of their forms. Muscles cabled, skin gleaming under the dim light, the interplay of masculine strength and feminine grace held me entranced, the tension of effortlessness adding to their undeniable allure. She, the embodiment of astral beauty, and he, raw power made flesh, moved in a daring rhythm—a symphony of harmony and struggle, instinctive yet precise.
The moment was magnetic, coaxing the voyeur within me as my eyes traced the lines of their bodies, each motion a testament to something primal and untamed. My breath froze in my lungs, suspended by the raw tension of the scene before me. The scene pulsed with an unspoken force, a collision of will and desire.
Above me, the Archangel loomed, his presence commanding my focus, his shadow casting me in a cocoon of light and darkness. The nibble at my bottom lip became my fragile tether to the moment, my gaze inexorably drawn upward into his fathomless eyes. Twin pools of eternity, they stripped me bare of coherent thought and reason, leaving only a trembling awareness in their wake. My Inner Goddess swelled, unfurling like moonlit petals beneath the silver glow of the heavens as my legs parted in silent invitation, poised at the precipice of a rapture yet to be realized.
And then, it came—the venerable culmination, the void within surrendering to the inexorable. My back arched, lifted from the mattress as though drawn upward by invisible, divine hands. My sanctuary yielded to the holy presence that filled me. Slim arms encircled the breadth of the Archangel’s chest, clinging to the celestial warrior as his sanctity penetrated the trembling fiber of my being. My Inner Goddess soared, ascending to the stars, my cry an offering to the Moon Goddess. Meanwhile, the serpent’s body about my throat promised me the irresistible and eternal. The cord tensed against my torso and around each wanton breast, its embrace both liberating and inescapable. The forbidden allure of Eden coursed through every shiver of my being, the weight of its temptation realized at last.
Our bodies surged and ebbed in wonderous accord. Four hearts pulsing, lost in the bliss of the possible. Smoldering gazes were exchanged, and kisses, deep and rich as wine, passed between us and our beloved partners. My heart skipped at the taste of Jack’s embrace lingering on my lips. My skin melted beneath the divine caress of Seraphina’s delicate fingers, each touch a whisper of something sacrosanct, sending electric currents through my being, my Inner Goddess caught in the rapture of her heavenly touch, almost afraid to return the gesture.
Positions shifted, and I found myself on all fours, the securely bound handle resting against my spine, the Archangel’s hands solid and unyielding on my hips. There it was—the pyrotechnic fire of my climax, igniting my need, fueling my Inner Goddess as she transcended from this mortal world under the Archangel’s rhythmic movements. Each motion, magnificent in its power, sent shockwaves through me. One hand curled around my hipbone while the other grasped the handle, finding leverage in the explosive dance between us. The rope at my throat, taut and binding, teetered at the edge of my endurance, but I cared not. I fell deeper into the intoxicating embrace of the evening’s allure, losing myself to the blackness.
My world tilted, and I found myself in the arms of my Beloved, feeling my soul sigh as it aligned with the rhythm of his heart. Mmm, but this was no moment for tender, chaste kisses. The bliss we shared had been magnified by the angelic beings who visited my Beloved’s home. At his presence, the heat of his body ignited a carnal ferocity within me, ravenous and untamed. I could feel the primal need thrumming in his chest—a fierce, silent demand for my surrender, for me to become wholly his.
Had we been alone, I might have fled from him—not in fear, but in teasing defiance. I would have run just to see the lust darken his eyes, to stoke the beast within until it boiled over, to hear the primal roar as he gave chase. And when he finally caught me, I would surrender—not as a captive, but as a willing offering to the wildness that bound us both.
My feet, spread and firmly planted on the soft Berber carpet, felt steady as Jack’s hands grasped the rope, pulling it firm as he drove forward with a brutal, possessive thrust. The rope at my throat, encircling it, pressed against my windpipe, choking back my cry of euphoric surrender. My nectar swelled within me, threatening to break through the gates of my defenses, yet I struggled to maintain control, my body dissolving in the searing heat of our union. Beneath me, there was nothing but the raw truth of our connection, nothing to catch my flood. My decorum, insistent and proud, refused to allow myself the ultimate surrender. I resisted, teetering on the edge of blinding abandon. I clung to the last vestiges of restraint as Jack’s auster crown pressed relentlessly, forcefully against my inner gates, already weakened, ripe, and aching from the Archangel’s decadent attentions.
The air throbbed with the resonance of life, a symphony of carnal cries and reverberating ecstasy. Flesh met flesh in a rhythm that echoed the eternal call of the feminine to the masculine, a song of souls intertwining, their essence melding into a singular force. The sacred act of watching and being watched, of bearing witness and being witnessed, became a holy catalyst, igniting each couple’s ascent to heights beyond comprehension. A shockwave coursed through the room, undeniable and absolute, the power of it surging like a tidal force. One by one, we yielded to the primal current, surrendering to an explosion of release so complete it shattered us, our bodies convulsing as the very fabric of our existence unraveled.
Jack’s hands remained firm at my waist, his body shuddering as electric sparks coursed through him, down his lean body, and into me. The current surged, curling my toes and drawing a breathless exhale from my lips. My Inner Goddess lingered at the threshold of the immortal realm, reluctant to descend from the stars.
My fingers brushed my throat, slipping beneath the fibers of the rope to loosen it, granting my lungs the full measure of air they craved. Each breath I took was rich with the scent of musk and something heavenly, an essence that tethered me to the memory of what had just transpired.
Across the room, the Archangel gently helped Seraphina to her feet, her limbs delicate yet steady in his grasp. The look they exchanged spoke volumes—an unspoken communion so profound it surpassed the limitations of language, an unbreakable trust woven into every shared breath, every lingering touch. At that moment, they could have been the only two souls in existence, their silent connection more intimate than any words could convey. I veiled my eyes, providing them a modicum of privacy.
My legs, still trembling and unreliable, betrayed my own lack of balance as I moved to sit upright. My body too languid, too sated, for the bindings of daywear, I reached for my lounge wear. Wobbling on one foot, I slid its mate into the cool embrace of my velvet and cream lace loungewear, the fabric a soothing contrast to the fervor still simmering beneath my skin. Stepping toward the Archangel, I swept my sapphire waves aside, my voice soft yet insistent as I requested my release. Once a cocoon of security, the silken bindings now felt like an irritant—stiff, confining, and wholly unnecessary. I yearned for freedom with an unexpected urgency.
The Archangel, ever attuned, responded without hesitation. His touch was deliberate yet caring, his hands reverent as he worked to loosen the silken serpent coiled around my body. The rope slid from my skin in languid, serpentine movements, its sleepy coils growing limp in his grasp. Though freed from its embrace, I could still feel its phantom imprint, a lingering reminder of the dance between temptation and surrender.
Slipping into my matching top, I felt the tension in my muscles melt away, leaving behind a languid warmth that softened my awareness. My senses, heightened from the evening’s pleasures, took in the world anew: the soft glow of ambient light, the delicate melody drifting from the speakers, the teasing brush of cream lace at my ankles, and the subtle caress of velvet against my skin. Even the faint aroma of brownies from the kitchen stirred my hunger, grounding me in the present.
As I entered the en suite, I paused to inspect the tender line encircling my throat. In the mirror’s soft glow, a faint crimson collar revealed itself—a bold testament to the serpent’s embrace, a secret tattoo of my indulgence. I knew the bruise would bloom soon, deepening into aubergine hues, a silent testament to the silk’s bite against my skin. My fingers traced the ridge, tender and warm, my cheeks flushing—not with shame, but with a wicked delight that simmered deep within. The thought of disguising the mark with scarves, hiding my moment of surrender from curious eyes, only heightened the thrill. There was something unspeakably tantalizing about carrying the serpent’s signature, a fleeting badge of the forbidden, out into the daylight—a story only I could tell.
As I tied the sash around my waist, I marveled at the unexpected lightness in my chest. The jagged edges of my guarded heart, sharp and unyielding for so long, felt softened, gilded with the delicate gold leaf of the evening’s strange alchemy. I hadn’t sought healing, nor had I anticipated it, yet it had found me slipping in like moonlight through a frosted window, quiet and unbidden.
Flicking off the light, my toes carried me toward the laughter and conversation spilling from the living room, my heart buoyed by the night’s revelations. The heated memories lingered in my mind, glimmering like embers—vivid, electric, a mosaic of celestial passion, unspoken communion, and the serpent’s body coiled around my throat and breasts.
My Inner Goddess stirred, a shiver passing through me as the serpent’s tongue tickled her ear, whispering the susurration of untold possibilities, the future ripe with forbidden pleasures, like a lover’s caress against my senses, igniting a quiet thrill that raced through me—what a life there was yet to live.
Until next time, XO. Elsie
Year of the Inner Goddess 