| The Goth girls in the mall made
her smile. Such children don’t know true dark.
At home, the proper suburban housewife gleefully shucks her
clothes and begs his magical domination to release her screaming,
writhing slut.
Taking her in hand, he allows his sadism to surface. Power
is the rhythm of their dance; pain and pleasure the melody.
Collars, chains, whips and nasty sharp things all find use
in driving her to surrender and setting her free.
Later she discreetly covers the treasured
marks of his attentions before the family arrives. Not a victim,
but she expect no understanding.
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