I can only smile, nodding my agreement.
"Yes," I would tell you, "I am obsessed with Wrath; it's my baby right now, after all."
Now now, don't go raising your brow at me, my dear reader, for I have yet to answer your question.
"But this blog was created with the original intent to post snippets of my thoughts and ideas, not to focus on a single obsession."
"Does that mean you won't be sharing any more about Wrath?" I hear you asking, and I'm not sure if it's hopeful or fearful.
"Fear not, little reader," I soothe, "there is a new home for Wrath to bound freely in. For now, let's focus on the Sunday Snippet."
Pain blossoms across my back, but I bite my lip, refusing to give voice to the sensations overwhelming me. Head bowed, I focus on the sound of rushing air, creating a whistle as it moves to my body again and again. I count the strikes, knowing that when it hits fifty, it will come to an end. Ten... eleven... t-twelve... I move my lips silently, keeping count, but as thirteen comes and strikes the small of my back my traitorous lips unleash the sounds I wanted to hide. The moan of pleasure I release is answered by a chuckle, and Strike Fourteen falls right after.Well... that wasn't my intent, but what can I say? Things tend to write themselves. Can't be disappointed, though. Drop a comment, why don't you?