Dear Sir,

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I will not struggle I will not fight,
I am your slave, if just for this night,

You've made me wet with just the ideas you've put in my head,
Picturing you tying, restraining me to your bed,

Taking me with your fire hot sword,
Bending me over on all fours,

Ramming deep inside,
The need I cannot hide,

Telling me that I belong to you,
Taking my (passion cave ?)...and telling me you'll ravish my valley? too,

Splitting me apart with your steel-hard heat,
Pumping and grinding into the very core of me,

Claiming me heart, body and soul,
My will you bend my actions you control,

With a leather whip you make me behave,
I know my body is your slave,

You break me and take me making me scream,
Telling me you love ramming deep into me,

You like the tightness of my young skin,
You take me again and again,

You even like it when I put out a fight,
That just makes you harder and your grip tight,

You put me on my back and squeeze my breasts hard making them red,
You slam me with such force, with each thrust my body thrashes on the bed,

You reach down to kiss,
And you bite my lips,

I taste the sweetness of my blood,
And you tell me, 'I own you Dove!'

*As I reposted this it lost some of it's power...but the meaning is still there*

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