- Erotic Poetry
- Proper Treatment
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I like to have you crawling on all fours,
obedient, kiss the ground on which I tread;
enjoy your servile worship without pause,
and take you wrapped in helplessness to bed.
You whisper plaintive, calling to your lord,
your face a squirming stool beneath my feet,
your mind and body bound by word and cord,
wearing surrender’s comfort like a sheet.
You long to feel my weight, to lie beneath
my body, stretched along you, joy and jail,
and whimper as your nipples meet my teeth.
Truth is not as it seems. Ignore its veil
and learn the secrets, hidden underneath:
each strike’s a loving kiss, each scar its tale.
- COMMENTS
Vanquishedover 4 years agoAuthorRegarding that comment, no, stool doesn't just mean that. It's the other definition: a seat without a back or arms, typically resting on three or four legs or on a single pedestal.
Thanks for making me smile though.
Anonymousover 4 years agodo you mean merde? You must be a real sick f, who would want you?
