I fear that I might break you my toy
That in my exuberance I may just employ
A little too much force here or there
You might pull something, possibly tear
I fear I might hurt you my slave
That whilst you’re tied and I’m being depraved
A slash of my belt might burn too deep
That my little Angel may cry, may weep
I fear I might burn you my love
That the Devil will be closer than those from above
That we together may just lose our souls
As wanton lust swallows us whole
I fear all these things above you see
The things you bring forth from within your Beast
The need he has to dominate you
The need I have for all this to come true
Is it my tear that you fear?
Or is it my tear that you want?
Typing this poem…is kinda, sorta a taunt
A creative expression…
One that leaves an impression
Not just on my mind
But perhaps on my skin too
Licensing that which is artistic
Your tongue on my cunt is very linguistic
Poems that invoke
The past bespoke
I say…take your belt!
Do your worst
I will balance on the line
Between pain and pleasure
Yes, I am flexible
So pick a cavity
I want to feel your depravity
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