the ritual

The Ritual 

I always begin by cleaning the space, and myself. I clean the room, the bathroom, and make my preparations and gather supplies. I fast for these, so no dinner but I did buy roses for my nest and some good quality virgin coconut oil  extra candles, and made some spiced wine with cinnamon, cardamom,  cloves, and cognac. 

I set up my room with thick blankets of royal blue and gold from my bed and spare pillows and made a circle with votive and pillar candles placing a vanity mirror against two pillows at one end and spreading all but two roses around the blankets.

My house is small, built in the 1920s and the room I use for my bedroom is longer than it is wide with windows along the exterior wall. There is a fireplace at the end and wooden floors throughout. Beyond this it is sparsely furnished with bookshelves, a desk, and sleigh bed.

I light a fire, and turn off the heater, then I open all the windows in my room.

I set up my bath with candles, dried flowers and a mixture of powdered milk and raw honey and centered myself and set intentions,  I then stepped into my bath and soak while I lather well. 

I apply a honey mask to my face and proceed to shave everything. Once I have finished I wash my face, and get out of the bath. I then mix a warming cinnamon sugar scrub with ginger, and clove added. It makes my skin feel hot to the touch and increases blood flow. I apply the scrub to my body and focus on my breathing for fifteen minutes before taking as hot a shower as I can. I do not dry off. For this I enter my room and walk to the open window. I stand at the window letting the  December air dry me until my nipples are fully erect. Rivulets run from the tips on my hair down my back like a lover’s fingertips tracing my spine.

Still partially wet I sit on the blankets in front of the fire.

I place my rose quartz wand close to the fire to warm and have a couple glasses of the fortified wine while I  meditate on the sensory aspects of the room. 

The cool crisp winter air from the window on my left, the heat from the fire in front of me, notes of rose and  wood smoke mix in air, candles coruscating, casting shadows around them, the ethereal sounds of Hildegard Von Bingen playing low in the background. 

I take the saved roses in my hands, and slowly begin tracing them along the contours of my body

Across the tops of my toes and feet, up the sides of my legs, over the knees and into my inner thighs

Let them waltz against my flower, their petals the kiss of my lover,

Over my mons, up the middle of my torso, ’round, under, and between my breasts, letting  the soft petals skate across my skin 

I bring one rose up and inhale deeply as I shake the other over my nipples like a feather duster

In the mirror, wreathed in a kaleidoscopic amber glow from the fire, I see myself

My shimmering skin nestled into a plush sea of royal blue trimmed in shimmering gold satin, the droplets remaining on my body scintillating in the firelight,

The soft petals flicking around my breasts, parallelling the thin delicate petals that frame the heart of my femininity

Spectral shadows from the candle’s flames lash in greyscale across my body

Mixing with dancing silhouettes along my walls

I am leaking now, slight streams of liquid lust weeping from my lips like tears of longing

Longing to be touched

Longing to be filled

Longing to be made complete 

I reach for my wand, it’s translucent pink now more pearlescent before the flames

It’s hot, blood warm, I call back my hand and quench it in the pool between my thighs 

Starting slow, I run the tip of the wand in oval patterns around my entrance, it’s waxen pink exterior fading into the softer pastels of my inner petals, both flashing and failing in the fire light 

I can feel my wetness 

Streaming now

I push the tip inside as a tender, almost sorrowful moan escapes my lips 

I pause

Feel the warm weight

Fill me

Stretch me

I push in a little more

I pinch my nipple 

Another, more urgent moan

Small gush of slickness displaced by the wand, 

Both escaping my lips in concert

Deeper still, I hilt my lover 

Cannot help but to arch my back

Draw my knees up to my breasts

My head low with bated breath

My wet hair, dark vines clinging to my face, neck, chest,

A combination of arousal and ambient heat cause my skin to flush in patches

Curious constellations across 

My breasts, my thighs, my cheeks,

I adopt the rhythm of the walls

Moving in tandem with the shadows

Writhing in time with the flicker of flames

My body on fire

My pace quickening 

Shallow breaths from heaving breasts

I grind into my hand 

The stone deep inside me

Moving 

Shifting pressure as my hips thrust off the blankets and

Back down

I slow

Myself

Spin ’round

Roll to my knees

Face down

Feel the wetness change course

Running down my hand along my forearm

I plunge in and out of myself

Lowing into the pillows my muscles made master

I’m on edge

Barely aware

Of anything but a driving primal need for completion 

I sit up grab both breasts 

Hard press, squeeze, pull at my nipples 

Gliding slowly up and down on my wand

Pausing at the part of my lips

Move my hips in slow spirals feeling it twist inside me

And bring it down

Picking up pace

Slowing to a rolling hip grind

Again

Again

Again 

I fall over

Grab one leg 

Pinned behind my head

Work my pearl and my wand with feral focus

In the mirror 

My once contrasting colors of skin, quartz, petals, radiant amber glow

Now a monochromatic palette of scarlet

Sweat and wet dripping 

I feel my muscles tighten 

My jaw set

My walls clamp down 

A Flashpoint

A whisper into a wail

Tears,

Squeezed from clenched eyes and furrowed brow

Wild moans and convulsions,

Shuddering 

Shaking

Breaking my being in two

Before 

Subsiding into whimpering 

Weeping

And waves of ecstasy 

Exhausted I smile through the tears

Laughing at my own loss of composure

Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/uvmxc4/the_ritual