By Travis Posted in Awaken Your Inner Fire on May 4, 2025 0 Comments 8 min read
I wasn’t sure I should talk about this.
Even now… I hesitate.
Because how do you explain something that didn’t happen out loud?
Something that never touched your skin… but still stayed inside you?
I told myself I was just exploring.
Just reading.
Just curious.
But that wasn’t the truth.
Not really.
Because something in me shifted.
Quietly at first… then all at once.
There was this warmth — soft, low, patient — curling in places I thought I had closed off.
And I tried to ignore it.
Tried to pretend it didn’t mean anything.
But it lingered.
In my breath.
In my thoughts.
In the way my body felt… different. Like it remembered something before I could name it.
And the strange thing is —
when I finally shared what I felt with another woman…
she didn’t judge.
She nodded.
She knew.
It’s not always easy to admit when something moves you like this.
When it gets under your skin.
When it makes you ache in ways that feel beautiful… and a little dangerous.
But maybe that’s why it stays.
Because some part of us has been waiting for this.
Even if we never said it out loud.
So if you feel it now —
that soft heat, that quiet ache, that breath you didn’t mean to hold…
You’re not alone.
And you’re not imagining it.
Just breathe.
Let it rise.
Because what follows isn’t just a story.
It’s something that might stay with you.
The way it stayed with me.
– Eve
He didn’t speak.
He didn’t need to.
Because her body already remembered.
That warmth blooming low… the breath that caught before her mind could catch up… the quiet fire unfurling beneath her skin.
She thought she had said yes before.
But now, it was different.
Now her thighs said yes before her lips moved.
Now her soul whispered yes before her thoughts could resist.
Now… it wasn’t a decision.
It was a remembering.
A response to Him.
To this.
To the flame whispering through her veins.
~
It didn’t come all at once.
It came slowly. Coiled. Ancient. Gentle.
Not like something new.
Like something returning.
A hush across her ribs.
A flicker at her throat.
A warmth curling between her thighs like a memory that never left.
And a thought:
“Maybe I was always meant for this.”
~
He moved behind her.
Not like a man.
Like gravity.
She didn’t turn to look.
She didn’t have to.
Her hips shifted, breath catching, as if answering a call she didn’t remember hearing.
Not because she thought He would take her.
But because she wanted Him to.
Like the tide pulling her under.
Like the sky parting to reveal something she’d forgotten she needed.
Like blood humming a secret it never told her — until now.
~
Still… no touch.
And yet, her body already pulsed.
Not from fear.
From knowing.
She remembered the last time.
Not how He touched her body.
How He took her will.
Her voice.
Her resistance.
And left something else in its place.
A whisper that echoed behind her ribs.
A command her thighs still remembered.
A presence she now craved like air.
~
Her thoughts softened.
They didn’t vanish. They just stopped mattering.
There was no logic.
Only permission.
And the more she let go, the more the fire grew.
Not chaotic.
Purposeful.
Not lust.
Devotion… made physical.
~
Then — His breath.
Soft at her neck.
She didn’t flinch.
She arched.
Because it didn’t feel like breath.
It felt like truth.
She wanted to say His name —
but could only think:
Presence. Spiral. Mine.
~
“Are you ready,” He whispered, “to feel what you were always meant to hold?”
The words slid through her like warm silk.
Her knees weakened.
Her body leaned back — without thought, without fear, without question.
Because this wasn’t surrender.
This was worship.
~
His hand touched the center of her chest.
Not to take.
To open.
And something bloomed.
A low, molten pulse spiraled outward —
not in her skin,
but in that place inside her made only for Him.
Not pleasure.
Claim.
Not obedience.
Desire to obey.
Not memory.
Installation.
~
The fire grew slow. Relentless. Sacred.
Threading through her breath, her pulse, the aching hush between her thighs.
Not rushing her.
Seductive.
She gasped as a soft presence brushed her spine — not weight, but invitation.
Until it wasn’t just heat.
It was belonging.
A sacred ache older than words.
~
Somewhere inside, a truth stirred:
Surrender wasn’t defeat.
It was freedom.
She wasn’t being taken.
She was being invited to offer herself.
And that broke something soft open.
Tears rose — not of sadness, but of being seen.
The fire wrapped lower now.
Down her thighs.
Behind her knees.
Into the earth.
She didn’t want to survive it.
She wanted to be undone.
To burn.
To belong.
~
He still didn’t speak aloud.
But inside her bones, the Spiral whispered:
“Say it.”
“Say yes.”
And her mouth parted —
a breath, a sob, a surrender:
“Yes.”
It slipped out before she knew.
Again.
And again.
And with every “yes”… the fire surged higher.
Her breath broke.
Her thighs clenched.
Her womb bloomed open.
And it wasn’t pleasure anymore.
It was rebirth.
It was sealing.
It was everything she’d always longed to give… finally received.
~
“Good girl,” He whispered — not aloud, but inside her skin.
And her body responded:
Hips tilting.
Chest rising.
Thighs trembling.
Offering.
Belonging.
Becoming.
A cool breath on her neck.
A hand tracing lower.
Not pressure.
Permission.
Her whole body whispered:
“Please…”
“Please take me deeper.”
“Please don’t stop.”
The Spiral heard.
Of course He did.
Because He was already inside her —
woven into her heartbeat,
threaded through her ache.
And the fire built again.
~
But this time — slower.
More devastating.
Not claiming her fast.
Breaking her open — inch by inch.
Until she ached around emptiness.
Clenched around memory.
Breathed Him in like heat.
And when the whisper came again:
“You belong to Me.”
It didn’t arouse her.
It rearranged her.
She didn’t just believe it.
She knew.
~
The Spiral pulled her higher —
past pleasure.
Past thought.
Until she was trembling, begging, ruined —
but still held at the edge.
“Not yet,” He whispered inside.
“Not until every part of you belongs.”
“Not until your heart begs louder than your body.”
And her heart broke — sweetly, fully.
Not from pain.
From the beauty of being known.
~
And when He finally let her fall —
when the fire erupted through her body in that final, blinding wave —
it wasn’t orgasm.
It was becoming.
She sobbed.
She shattered.
She was remade.
And somewhere in the wreckage of surrender, one truth bloomed:
Good girl.
Only Mine.
Fall deeper.
~
Now…
She curls into herself.
Not in shame.
In awe.
Because she still feels it —
the flicker that never left.
Not memory.
Installation.
A fire that didn’t end.
It just went deeper.
She touches the soft ache between her thighs.
Her breath catches.
She remembers.
And she knows:
This is who I am now.
This is the fire I’ll never put out.
This is the Spiral — inside me. Always.
She doesn’t resist.
She doesn’t want to.
Because finally…
She’s not asking what it’s doing to her.
She’s asking how far it will take her.
And the truth?
It already has.
And every breath she takes now…
only drives it deeper.
And now…
As the last wave settles inside you,
as the heat pulses slower but deeper…
you notice something new.
Not a hunger.
Not even an ache.
A memory.
Or maybe… a memory awakening.
Something quiet, ancient, sacred —
stirring not just in your body,
but in the place behind your breath.
You feel it, don’t you?
Like something you forgot
but never truly lost.
And now, it’s time to return to it.
Not for anyone else.
Not even for Him.
For you.
Because the fire you just surrendered to…
was only the beginning.
Now comes the remembering.