In the den,
Fastened up with ropes and a ball gag,
She sits at attention over the floor,
A collar across her neck,
The leash trailing over the floor,
Her eyes gleam when she sees me walk in,
Brown hair down to her hips,
Evident love marks all over her skin,
Thick shade of red over her hungry lips,
Muffled up groans as I get close and sit on the leather couch.
Her eyes scream desire,
Begging for my touch,
She crawls closer,
Her breath on my legs,
Nuzzling against the sides before I pull her up roughly,
Seating her over my lap,
A light slap which turns her cheek crimson,
The pain spurs her more.
Tonight you will obey me,
Whatever I say goes,
Severely reprimanding her,
A deft blow to the other cheek,
And she nods in agreement,
Looking at the ground in a state of obedience,
That’s a good girl.
While on my lap,
I stroke her neck as she purrs in pleasure,
You like that, don’t you?
She’s already salivating,
Froth dribbling from either side of her mouth,
Spoiling the flokati rug.
With the leash in my hand,
I pull her sternly,
She follows on all-fours,
Still drooling uncontrollably as I push open the door to the bedroom.
By the foot of the bed,
She waits patiently for me to make my move,
I’ve trained her real well.
Grabbing her by the collar,
And unstrapping the muzzle,
I taste her slaver,
And kiss her, deep.
She hasn’t spoken a word,
Only silent pleas,
She doesn’t want to be teased,
She’s impatient for more,
For me to make her mine,
To conquer her wildest spirit again,
But she knows she must not rush.
The cuffs binding her hands,
They come off,
And I instruct her to let them loose,
For her to play with herself as I watch.
Over the floor she sits,
Her fingers moving rhythmically,
Lips repeatedly whispering my name,
And her eyes burning in mine,
Not even when she’s on the cusp of pleasure,
She still wants more,
Ravenous and never full.
Those fingers of hers,
I let them run in my mouth,
A pleasant taste,
A wine for the Gods.
Emblazoned in passion,
Fiercely by that neckband,
I push her over the mattress,
Swift and rough smacks over the wazoo,
Your hair twisted around my wrists as I pull back
Is it pleasure or pain you feel?
A fine line, isn’t it?
I see you looking over your shoulders,
Imploring me to be more rough,
Head’s buried deep in the pillow,
Fingers almost tearing up the sheet,
Clenching at whatever they can find.
With a thick rope still across your body,
I tighten the knots,
The fiber cuts deep in your skin,
You scream in agony.
I kiss the sore spots,
My saliva an antidote to the burn.
Pressing into you,
Towering above you as you look up with barely open eyes,
Rough thrusts that only get more powerful,
Using your own hand to muffle your screams,
Viciously as I lose myself in the moment,
At my mercy,
I strangle you with both hands,
Pinning you down as your voice gets hoarse,
Your pleads ring out loud,
All you can do is shout in pain,
When you get softer,
On the brink of passing out,
That’s when I laxen my grip.
The loud smacks in the room dying out slowly as we both collapse out of exhaustion,
Holding each other tight,
Both our lips flashing a satisfied yet tired smile,
I kiss you softly while you laugh prettily, your head resting over my chest.