My partner and me

I have been wrapped up tightly in black leather all day. They are supposed to be functional, comfortable even, but I want freedom. I cannot breathe, beads of perspiration gather in my crevices, I need air. The cotton cloaking between me and the leather does nothing to soften the rubbing against my delicate surface. Some stand on spindly towers but I'm flat to the ground. I've seen others sway sensually in sexy stilettos or totter dangerously in daring platforms, but I am plain in my cow skin, mock cow skin. The pillars above squash me down. A dull ache throughout. Hands get paid while I suffer, my partner and me. Backwards and forwards, absorbing the impact. I long for the luxury of warm water to soak in. Soft skin blisters, while the rough gets rougher. I should be caressed, massaged, but she won't allow it because she is too busy.