Swipe to see who's online now!
- Poetry With Audio
- Feather (Do You Trust Me?)
Info
PUBLIC BETA
Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.
You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.
Click here
***
Here’s an ode to what’s clearly my favorite little toy—as you can tell; it’s right in my avatar. Well, my favorite favorite thing to play with’s a tie (no pun intended) between this and a blindfold. The content’s based on my story entitled “Do You Trust Me?” So this will likely make a bit more sense if you read it.
The vision I detect—
She occupies a chaste milieu
She shines against the backdrop of the crowd,
A rendezvous…so impromptu
Her smile is my sail upon a cloud.
To me she speaks—
In subtle word and gentle touch of voice
Her motives but a riddle to my mind,
Left robbed of choice…except t’rejoice
As she proves to share my presence so inclined.
She takes me home—
My hand in hers, a Cheshire kitten grin
She feeds my soul, a candle feeds a flame,
The blood within…her porc’lain skin
’Tis the ink in her calligraphic game.
Intoxication—
Sheds our shroud, retire we away
Seduction is the knave what thieves my heart,
Emotions sway…like shades of grey
My knot-bound wrists, my legs drawn long apart.
Now as she owns—
Me hoof and paw, locked under stark arrest
Hot blood rerouted by sublime restraint,
The captured guest…in danger’s nest
Mere bondage all which holds me going faint.
Her next of revelations—
Down my spine is sent a chill
Her mystic self, a sorceress, a witch,
A tort’rous thrill…a feather quill
Her smile constrains my ticklish cock to twitch.
The feather’s edge—
Its evil touch is heaven and is hell
The lightest flick rides torments through my soul,
Excites me well…her Wiccan spell
Such deathly love compelled I’m to extol.
She persecutes my ticklishness—
In merc’less hexing strokes she does enchant
Till yet no longer can I bear the stirs
Resist I can’t…I gasp, I pant
I come…and I, my cock, and victory are hers.
Here’s an ode to what’s clearly my favorite little toy—as you can tell; it’s right in my avatar. Well, my favorite favorite thing to play with’s a tie (no pun intended) between this and a blindfold. The content’s based on my story entitled “Do You Trust Me?” So this will likely make a bit more sense if you read it.
The vision I detect—
She occupies a chaste milieu
She shines against the backdrop of the crowd,
A rendezvous…so impromptu
Her smile is my sail upon a cloud.
To me she speaks—
In subtle word and gentle touch of voice
Her motives but a riddle to my mind,
Left robbed of choice…except t’rejoice
As she proves to share my presence so inclined.
She takes me home—
My hand in hers, a Cheshire kitten grin
She feeds my soul, a candle feeds a flame,
The blood within…her porc’lain skin
’Tis the ink in her calligraphic game.
Intoxication—
Sheds our shroud, retire we away
Seduction is the knave what thieves my heart,
Emotions sway…like shades of grey
My knot-bound wrists, my legs drawn long apart.
Now as she owns—
Me hoof and paw, locked under stark arrest
Hot blood rerouted by sublime restraint,
The captured guest…in danger’s nest
Mere bondage all which holds me going faint.
Her next of revelations—
Down my spine is sent a chill
Her mystic self, a sorceress, a witch,
A tort’rous thrill…a feather quill
Her smile constrains my ticklish cock to twitch.
The feather’s edge—
Its evil touch is heaven and is hell
The lightest flick rides torments through my soul,
Excites me well…her Wiccan spell
Such deathly love compelled I’m to extol.
She persecutes my ticklishness—
In merc’less hexing strokes she does enchant
Till yet no longer can I bear the stirs
Resist I can’t…I gasp, I pant
I come…and I, my cock, and victory are hers.
Please rate this
The author would appreciate your feedback.
- COMMENTS
Our Comments Policy is available in the Lit FAQ
Post as:
1 Comments
