- Erotic Poetry
- His to Mold
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The darkness which blinds my eyes
The sharp popping of the bones in His wrist
The air being cut like a knife
The soft exhalation from His loving exertion
The fiery bite of the leather across my breasts
The helpless flailing of my captive body
The loud rattling of the chains which bind me
The scream of anguish which fills the chamber
…all prove to the assembled guests
that i am His to mold with painful love.
- COMMENTS
LeBrozabout 17 years agoA little image of a BDSM scene being played out to an appreciative audience.
