A submissive washing dishes for his dominant, knowing that each soap bubble, each swirl of water is a gift, an honoring, may feel the humming resonance of a hunger, partially satisfied, deep in his spirit. A domme, caught up in the meditative precision of tying each knot precisely *so*, may feel an echo of cathedral walls around her, each motion guiding her, and those around her closer to the God they seek. A masochist, floating in the scintillations of painwaves as the whip falls against her time and time again, may begin to feel their cadence as the cadence of prayer. A hesitant sadist may, with the first hissing of his partner’s breath, begin to understand the transformative power he wields with his strap.
