A gentle touch, a lovely brush,
Paint my senses, with every touch.
Scratching, caressing my canvas,
Colors only my skin knows.
That brush, of leather,
Held skillfully, artfully, beautiful lines.
Strokes that paint my soul.
Pull from me, a hint of subspace.
With a whisper, a hot breath,
My canvas tingles and begs.
The artist, to paint...
And pain me more.