He spoke in quiet, forceful tones,
.............. |
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This page was added February 2002 | |
To ask
if he
owned her -
~¤~Going Home~¤~
Golden tongues and silver sounds, bring to life ephemeral humours,
Light raging colours won't confound, ownership of flirtatious rumours.
From "A Tempting Petal"
There are some days when I think I'm going to die from an overdose of satisfaction
Salvador Dali
~¤~Index of Lurid Poetry~¤~
She merely made to lick her lips: Responding with a feline purr.
From "Quiet Force"
Warning: These verses include explicit innuendo that may offend the more sensitive (or prurient). This page is age/content rated under Safe Surf.
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~¤~A Better Way to Dance ~¤~
My love and I have learnt a merry dance,
A singular and unique step to tread:
Invisible to prying eyes, entranced,
We dance here face to face upon our bed.
My love and I are cuddled up together,
A hand steals down, intent upon carousal:
The drift of fingers soft must last for ever
With feather touches bringing slow arousal.
My love and I have tasted moistened lips,
Juxtaposed against our sultry flesh.
There's no nocturnal limit as time slips
Through to the early morning. We caress,
My love and I. Position thoughts for love:
Outrageous fantasies within shared minds;
Hearts pulse as we reveal our lost trove
And all our lurid secrets are defined.
My love and I have giggled at ideas,
Extreme were we to play them out by day,
And, if our mirth brings us to laughing tears,
We kiss them from our cheeks in the affray.
My love and I may languish, at a glance,
Clasping shadowy concepts - lost regrets,
But, if there is a better way to dance,
My love and I have still to find it yet.
~¤~ The Articulate Cry ~¤~
Hear the articulate cry of need
Voicing assiduous thanks -
Anticipate soothing: you will concede
It makes up for the soreness of flanks,
Healed by the arm that held so well,
As a palm delivered each smack,
Thighs along with that bottom swell,
Reddened under that precise attack
On buttocks proffered by a pet,
Mark that impertinent rear
In a fashion you will not forget:
Need articulates the cry to hear
~¤~Anything~¤~
Moisture cried welcome; yet hardness drew back
From the moistening fold.
The squinting monster held its fierce attack
From that entrancing hold,
Drawing her closer, sweetly imploring,
Delight her - anything.
"I thought," I said," that I had made it clear,"
"I can't make love with you."
"Don't be unkind. I will be grateful here,"
She begged - pleading anew:
"Then take my rear," I heard her purring -
Any delight - her thing.
"Truth, Sir, your size just fits my shame
It goes where I deserve.
And you know, penetrated again,
I am well pleased to serve,
If I may finger it, while you en...joy my...tight...
Anything!!!" - her delight.
~¤~Perhaps ~¤~
She offers him? She offers him true?
Sweet pink, fecund, fleshy folds
Her cool wellspring? Possess her dew?
The crimson in her rose bloom holds...
Her fragrant elixir could be mir
Or do frank words incense
A golden tongue cannot defer
Assured pleasure: her recompense?
Does she give? Or does she not?
Cinamon petals displaced.
Does she live? Is her need hot?
A pinker skin to taste.
The rarest rose may weep at dawn
When plucked by choicest word,
Tall stem so thick, its thorns may prick
Secreted thoughts inferred.
Does she crave? Or does she not?
Is this opening some lapse?
Does she behave? Or can she stop?
Perhaps. Perhaps. Perhaps.
~¤~Pretty, Wonderful and Good~¤~
Sweet slavery's a pretty theme,
A pretty theme to her,
Think on this theme and it may seem
Your fantasies concur,
Come maid to Owner's summoning
Come kneel at her feet:
Mistress whispers in your ears,
You naughty, slavish treat!
The collar is a good idea,
Light round your possessed neck,
Dear naked witch, wear not a stitch
Does she make herself clear?
You'll not go home till break of day
Streaks out over sky:
The collar is a good idea,
To bind this slave so sly!
Whips too are rather wonderful,
Applied to your cool skin,
Without your dress, the thongs caress
And make you wet as sin,
Your pussy slit is pink and shy
Nestling, almost shut:
And whips are very wonderful,
To split a collared slut!
Pretty, wonderful and good,
Your gorgeous flesh is mine.
Your hair will curl, sweet enslaved girl,
As you cum one more time.
Mistress is impassioned.
Her tongue's joy jaunts are rich
Rotate those fingers in these holes,
You love being her b@tch!
~¤~Until Morn's Alarm ~¤~
I'll light your chambers with my gleaming eyes,
Burning fiercely on your form, restive in bed;
Wicked thoughts, lust-intent, blaze in my head.
I've raised your nightdress well above your thighs
Your syllables have dwindled to quiet sighs;
Only your wriggling form attracts attention,
My tongue licks my dry lips at your subvention
of all the lurid schemes that I've devised.
And now, at last, I can release my urges,
And slap your pantied backside with my palm
The flesh of hand and backside soon converges
And squeals resonate, shattering the calm Night,
velvet as secreted need emerges
Pants off, I'm out to love, 'til morn's alarm.
~¤~Perfect ~¤~
Fixing perfect strings of words I've found
With the most perfect of velvet tongued ties
To bind you fast with wicked conjoined sounds
Securing my cruel heart from keening cries.
There is a perfect knot within your throat
Along with perfect ropes of pearly come:
Ligatures clinch all your cabled limbs -
Your perfect thong is certainly undone.
These are the perfect cords and perfect slacks,
Pulled firmly down around your junctured knees,
So when your perfect arse is harshly slapped
The perfect lash enhances winsome pleas.
Leashed, threaded and so very well restrained,
Trussed and fettered, you can scarce afford
The twine and whipcord that must now sustain
The perfect reined in moisture - your reward.
Hemp, jute and oakum, twisted, surely burn,
Cool shackles clamp your vivid perfect flesh:
Buckling down your tense form as I turn
You from your perfect moorings in duress.
Taut leather and fine lace are your design,
Beribboned, bowed and elegantly taped,
Harnessed to fibrous desires so sublime,
Your perfect, tethered thirst is quickly slaked.
So languorous and torrid is our passion,
My lips and fingers are within you still,
Ingenious, you crave love in your fashion,
You soon desist to bend me to your will.
To moans and sighs of angst, I seek new paths,
Saliva on your skin, meandering, flows,
I worship on this trail, down to damp calves,
Excited and voluptuous, your face glows.
Determined, I move on to that moist mire,
To nestle happy 'tween the spreading hips,
And there amidst the apex of desire,
I press my mouth to your vaginal lips.
Bedazzled as I am by your steamy gleaming sex,
At this palpitating altar, I will genuflect.
~¤~ Dead of Night~¤~
The dead of night is such a time for screams
And shrill disclaimers from your parted lips,
You twitter birdlike and you twitch your hips -
The nightmare ends. You turn to fresher dreams:
The agony over now. Each new thought seems
To spread its sensuous guise across your form,
And bring you sweet delights after the storm,
Balancing harsh reprisals, it demeans
Your sultry form. For molded so like clay,
Raised up as novel sensations might,
While pain and pleasure meld you in this way,
You shriek. Duty almost done - ignite
Raucous desire to burn till dawn of day:
Screaming to break the silent dead of night.
~¤~ Come again~¤~
Come again? This pardon refutes your sleep.
You will be played until you beg delight,
Nibbling at your sex; fingers slid deep,
Until you come again, three times this night.
His smile turned on you and almost veered
To loose you from the post, where hands were tied
So you could paw the darkness, as you neared
The climactic midnight he'd devised.
So, creeping to the space you call your own,
Where Master watches as you reel and writhe,
Kitten, you mewl, you sigh and then you moan.
Rejoicing so within, you are alive.
Your beauty is the moonlight in the rain,
As, at your Master's call, you come again.
~¤~ The Wicked Tyrant~¤~
"Just be tranquil, pet, don't make a sound,"
He ordered quietly, dropping his gaze,
Sliding his mouth against your pouting mound,
He sucked. He teased. He tasted. Your eyes glazed,
With his free hand he lightly stimulated
Your face, your abdomen, your lovely breasts,
Hard nubbin and nips both agitated,
Erectile tissues quivered. He caressed
Playfully with his teeth, his lips and tongue,
He had you turn and turn about and gasp,
Adding to your desire, his dextrous thumb,
Pressed, rotating slowly, up your pass.
Tongue in slit - digit in hole - still silent?
Yes! Gagged by that thickness: the wicked tyrant.
~¤~ Pet the ingrate~¤~
Please let me kiss your hand. Kind Sir
The taste of you makes my heart stir;
Pressing enslaved lips to your wrist:
Waiting permission to resist.
Your teasing hands insinuate,
Pleasing themselves: pet the ingrate.
Lay your fingers on these soft breasts,
Impress me with each light caress;
Basked in your warmth the growing tips,
Swell, so there is no need for clips.
Truss me, Sir, I won't debate,
Pleasing pinches: pet the ingrate.
Rest your eyes on willing form:
That you may take till you are warm;
Research each entrance, whip this flesh,
This body's yours, you are my mesh.
Captured, gagged. Blind sighs relate
She's almost pleased: pet, the ingrate.
~¤~ He Who Knows ~¤~
" He who knows he has enough is rich indeed." - Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching
He who knows he has a slut
Is very rich indeed,
Master Tzu, in his domain,
Rewards the subbie's need.
Leave the sub-space search to pets:
Yes, let them squeal their thanks,
They have desires; they have regrets;
They'll soon have reddened flanks.
They stay restive until that whip,
Seek strokes that will outnumber
The sweet dreams as the panties slip,
Down thighs now spread asunder.
Murmur your cravings in his ear
Ignore his thunderous features;
Nibbles a lobe and shows no fear,
You ingrate among creatures.
She'll surely know he's had enough
so eager to disclose,
Enriched by his cane across that butt
He has a slut who knows.
~¤~ A Conquest~¤~
Would you deny his conquest with closed thighs?
Hold back advance guards, kissing to your mound?
Provisioned by the saline flesh supplied,
He'll seize the hidden landscape he has found.
Observe tactician's eyes, so full of guile,
As he negotiates your countryside,
Besieging, with the wickedest of smiles,
The fortress of your sex thus far denied.
Stretch and lift your head, watch him surround
Your ill defended cleft with tongue and lips,
Steadfast, he lifts your bottom off the ground,
And holds you there, embattled, by your hips.
Surrender to his puissance - observe him penetrate,
Yield as his engine at last enters heaven's gate.
~¤~ Considering Herself ~¤~
She considers herself irrefutably his
creature. She considers this pet who
will never even try to neglect the cool
shadowy whim of ownership that defiles
her so effortlessly.
She will tread vapid thoughts into limpid ghosts.
She will step past creations knowing, as well as
a slave to love ought, she belongs to the wild
innovations that he dreams up to reconcile
her with his delight.
He will reward her with leering bamboo marks.
Thighs thus decorated, she knows her keening
cries charm smiles as the renewed whimpering
brings dreams of closure and the renaissance
of all her wiles at his command.
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~¤~ Pool Submission~¤~
Perhaps her limbs are gathered, snookered clean,
Outstretched on baize, silk bound, a frame denied,
Outsized beads interred - angles demean,
Lovingly withdrawn from her divide.
Slowly pocket the brown, he taught the slut -
Use the pet on cue. He chalks her, but
Beautifully spread cheeks - her denials failed
Maidenly bottom exposed - must be impaled.
Imagine the excitement with no remission,
Sense tension as he finds a new precision,
Shaking shoulders, she will never block it,
Impacts pink balls against her snug rear pocket,
Oblivious entrenched in her concession,
No game tonight: for this is pool submission.
~¤~ Quiet Force~¤~
He spoke in quiet, forceful tones,
To ask if he owned her -
She merely made to lick her lips:
Responding with a feline purr.
When he reached to pull her hair,
She did not demur,
The silent smile and shining eyes
Would not proclaim him 'Sir'.
When she rose and stood up tall
He smiled forgetful too
Why could he not remember now
Just whose pet was who?
"Dear widdle master, Sir," she said,
"It's with regret of course ...
But you must find another maid
To try out quiet force."
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~¤~ Her Forest Gaze ~¤~
When I recall her forest gaze
So candid in her sin,
I think of fiery eyes ablaze
So ready to begin;
When we went up through clustered firs,
To test her fervent need;
In thoughts and bellies, lust soon stirred
Beneath the canopy.
Under the tallest tree we'd stand,
This lovely chit and I,
A Master's prowess in her hand,
Beneath her downcast eye:
Caresses remained quite tentative,
This hesitant creature owned:
Her touches ever sensitive
They left no turn unstoned.
Pine needles scattered on the soil
Stuck to her coloured skirt
She brought my tension to the boil
Kneeling in the dirt;
She carefully palmed each testicle
My shaft slid past her lips
Fingers in me, oh so cool
Brought shivers to my hips.
Oh, there's a whore for willing fools,
Eager for the coin.
Mistress of lust, till that need cools,
Your purses to purloin:
There can be no sense of Mastery,
It is an empty rush
As with the harlot's artistry
She conjures scarce a blush.
There's the contrast with that pet
I collared in the wood
Sensual dryad I can't forget
So bad that she was good
This nymph belonged among the pine,
Her sultry mouth I glazed,
Those well stained lips, soft and divine,
Matching her forest gaze.
Come to the mystery as you surely ought,
Eager for love's interest;
A clear resonance is easily bought
Convinced by such naughtiness.
The taste of mischief well mixed with guile,
Will make intrigue brand new;
Tease well, lady, and laugh and smile,
For that's how he'd have you.
Brought to him, cloaked, in the shadowy dark,
Wreathing your well kissed face,
Under the covers what will you start?
Can the wicked find their wanton place?
Lie back and relax and breathe once more,
Full of the delight he'd imbue;
You may make love and you may adore,
For that's how he'd have you.
~¤~ A Waiting Game~¤~
Standing there, clutching that pillar,
Dressed in your thin robes of blue,
In grey skies a white swan rises,
As you gaze wistful - hopeful too.
Remember when, in that cold temple,
You crouched, abasing yourself low;
Thin blue robes were raised, revealing
All that you were made to show.
Beneath the marble arch awaiting,
Bare feet cool against the stone;
Your hair is windblown, ever restless,
Maiden watching there alone.
Recollect when you were naked,
Stripped of all your garments warm;
Rebellious hands scarcely concealed
The beauty of your wanton form.
Smoky clouds gather behind you,
Turning bleak grey skies quite black;
You'll be drenched, deafened by thunder
At the startling lightning crack.
Step back in time to startling vigour
and the hissing of unfurled whip;
Yes, you gloried in its landing,
Pleasure-pain makes your heart skip.
The rains are beating down upon you,
As others beat upon you once,
Attentions slavish, they desired it,
Most submissive of all c@nts.
Still you stand there, watchful woman,
Like the helmsman at his tiller;
Who do your grey eyes guide home, girl,
Standing there, clutching that pillar?
~¤~ Guileless~¤~
You'll rejoice, guileless, together
You'll play smartly, on your knees;
Lightly whipped and creamed forever,
With wax to burn and ice to freeze.
It should be delicious schooling
He'd let you cry out when you came,
But with all your incessant mewling,
He may scarce make out his name.
In the pleasure-pain of beatings,
With remorseless and harsh use,
You stare at him as if entreating,
A further dose of such abuse.
So you fuck-me, suck-me creature,
Go to and taste and lave and lick?
Spread each puckered, glistening feature,
Oiled and ready for that pr@ck?
Would it not be rather better
If he denied you bonding leather?
Then dear needy, greedy pet there,
You' ll rejoice: guileless together.
~¤~ I Would Not Enter~¤~
This taboo I could not enter, yet you would
Have led me there to see the slightest thing
That would have made you pleased...
No laughter hid, No burning desire, no glacial delights,
No sought-for truth, just indecision vain I failed
Your need: mistakes cause such regrets,
It's only what we see here - look again -
An empty room, grey, drear and comfortless.
Yet here alone, through service I had dwelt
All by myself, lest any know me quite;
I did so wrong denying all I felt
Past the limits' threshold that cold night
That you may never more behold my pleas.
The emptiness all mine. I would not steal your ease.
~¤~ Beware of the sly ones~¤~
Beware of the sly ones, who kneel on your floor
Wistful and loving and craving far more
Delivering praises and obeying commands ...
Their need: your pleasure - their pleasure: demands
Beware of sly creatures, who often suggest
A nice pinkened bottom, or a well nibbled chest .
Beware of sly teases: they look up in awe,
They tear at your heartstrings until you adore
These sluts' very presence; cajolling submission
Laid on with lust's trowel and no intermission
Beware of sly pets collared through all the years
Yet enjoy their soft smiles: love their salted tears.
~¤~ A Scent So Gratifying~¤~
A scent so gratifying wrapped round my head,
I sense as I graze fingers at your breast:
You harden at my touch: so pert and red,
You thus react to me, even at rest.
I kneel by your bed: implacable tongue,
Snail glides across your so quiescent flesh,
Consuming all the treasures that you'd hide,
Roaming docile landscapes. Its caress
Continues in a moist, yet wicked way.
It trails the tortuous path I have devised.
Touching, tasting, licking your display,
It conjures eager mewls and frenzied sighs.
I relish perfumed secretions as you spread,
A scent so gratifying wrapped round my head.
~¤~ Tools of the Trade~¤~
Behold he bears in fist and glove
Master Birch and Owner Whip
Yes, they hear your heartbeat skip
Guarding your status and his love.
Master Birch swishes cutting thighs,
And mark the flesh you duly raise
Nobly poised, you earn his praise
Lift up your rear - no compromise.
Owner Whip lets pet beseech
As it slices on these occasions
The cuts, stings and the abrasions
Must bring a smile to impeach.
Kiss birch and whip. Be not afraid
Enjoy the tools of Master's trade.
~¤~ A Tempting Petal~¤~
Wild roses tamely possessed
Sway through vacillation,
Frank sentences have been suppressed,
While seeking cultivation:
He owns me, he owns me not
He owns me, he owns me not...
She cannot help but lower her head
To see silk leaves around her feet
A thumb pricked by a thorn, she bled
Such whispers that would not entreat:
He owns me, he owns me not
He owns me, he owns me not...
He held her thumb to lips so moist
And tasted her secreted dew,
He heard the echo of her voice,
Murmuring questions she accrued:
He owns me, he owns me not
He owns me, he owns me not...
Her shapely stem sought governance,
Slyly she would test his mettle,
Is there a chance she will advance
Or stand her ground, unruly petal:
He owns me, he owns me not
He owns me, he owns me not...
*Envoy*
Golden tongues and silver sounds
Bring to life ephemeral humours,
Light raging colours won't confound
Ownership of flirtatious rumours.
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