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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Adult · #2215958
I kiss my tormentor as I fall asleep.

         I can't see from the steam. But I can feel everything. The satin. The spider silk. It's so hot. It's so hard to breathe. The world is spinning. I am not here, I am in the heat.
         It wraps around me, seeps inside me, makes my blood boil. I hate it. I love it. I want to tear the satin apart, rip the silk strands from their rooting. I want them to take this heat from me, calm my blood, yet I love the burn.
         My skin turns red, I can feel myself seeping out of my pores. But it only makes the mist in the room thicker. It only gets harder to breathe. I choke on myself, I choke on me in the air. I choke on them in the air.
         I try to claw my way out through the walls, but I know my nails won't do the job. I try to slam my way out with my hips, but the heat only gets worse. I start losing my mind.
         My consciousness fades away as my vision blacks out. I can't see. I can't breathe. The world is not here. I have moved dimensions, all I am is a boil and all they are is fuel.
         I allow myself to burn gladly now. I burn, yet the humidity in the air does not allow me to shrivel up. I burn and I claw and I scream into the void of nonexistence.
         And then I'm back. I breathe in the air and it's cool and soothing. My blood settles into a pleasant flowing warmth. I stare at the ceiling as I slow my breathing and calm myself. My frustration and entrapment had turned to freedom and leisure.
         I kiss my tormentor as I fall asleep.

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