..as She extracts my subspace.
Shale arrows of fossilized eyes
dart to my base and crown.
Hawking, in steal-toed boots,
leather reminiscent of flesh -
like it's former conception,
with breathy grunts and scuff-noises.
When Her eyes get tired,
She crunches cashews.
Raspberries if they're in season,
Her caviar.
(I can taste the juice on Her lips,
chilly from the fridge, seed swapping.
I scrape the floor with my nails,
arching upward as She crushes
a fist full of berries, nectar drizzling on
my spine, as Her teeth sink inward,
a primal urge to claim.)
The cement echoes Her footsteps
articulate, hollow as the drums I sculpt.
Madam harbors elocution,
Her rigid words in Scottish dialect,
years in London flattering Her tongue,
Her fluent French flutterizing
the flesh of my ears only because
She knows it will make...
...me...
...wet.
She flaunts Her paddle, velvety red;
hand-made, traveling vendor. Not a toy.
Madam reckons "good toys belong in the trophy case".
She doesn't smack my bottom, or my thighs.
She paddles my submission, holding it there
before my eyes. I know what to do.
(My muscle licks the velvet, reading the texture,
Although She has trained me to climax
in silence, with Her SNAP, I hang on to
the cliff of ecstasy, awaiting Her command.
The intoxicating scent of leather
teases my senses. Sometimes I swear
my clit...has a nose.)
With the trophy case locked
and the dungeon door closed,
Madam's eyes tenderize with love.
My heart as the planets, Her soul the sun.
We both wince during meteor showers,
though tonight She makes me dinner.
Epilogue
(In the airport lobby, She commands,
"Kneel". My kneecaps fuse with the
charcoal floor - I climax then.
In a room of Her Sisters, our eyes lock.
She commands, {SNAP} - I climax then.
At home in the basement, She turns on
"the machine", an inch from my _______.
She commands, "Open" - I climax then.
Under a tent, amidst a thousand Irish dancers,
She commands, "Kiss me" - I climax then ,
...again and again.)
These days, jesters diffuse across Her face.
A garland of reasons why She walked away
as I gouge out my rock-hard organs
replacing them with cornbread stuffing, blueberries,
free verse poetry, a wooden paddle;
Flea market, clearance pile.
Nothing compares.
A good sub anticipates
the needs...of her Mistress.
Therefore, I wait.
In a list
A contest entry
- The devotion of a slave: BDSM by requiempoet.
1100 points, ended October 24, 2008, 7 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Thoughts?
Comments
1 - 8 of 8
-
wow.
-
WOW
at first read, not understanding much about the topic, I raised eyebrows once or twice, went back read again and again if needed be until I completed the read completely comfortable with and a new understanding for the subject matter. I entered this contest after doing a little research to better familiarize myself with the topic...and wrote what I thought was an acceptable piece...nieave maybe, but acceptable. I then came to read your entry to see how close in accuracy I was to the knowledge I had gained. This entry sings of a love story of depths many would never understand, never be a participant of due to lack of committment. I myself know nothing of it. But the poem caught my attention from stanza one, the flow was refined, but held me at every word. The imagery beautifully constructed, painting the picture as described. Thank you for the enlightenment and the beautiful poetry.
-
-
You have stumbled on the work of an outstanding and unique poet.
-
-
Powerful and elegant! I like it very much. Thank you for sharing your poetic and erotic adventure with me. Good luck in the contest!
-
As one who understands every nuance of this piece, I would like to say how greatly I appreciate it, little one. It is very well-written indeed, deep, wise, and seemly.
M
-
-
thank You, Madam
-
-
My pleasure.
-
-
I love You, Madam ...
-
-
-
Adding your comment:
1 - 8 of 8
