The Quietened BeastsI walk among the quietened beasts
soak up their ancient sorrow for lives suspended evermore there can be no tomorrow. I think we are quite like them for we shall never be forward-thinking, pursuant nor together, you and me. I hand my heart unto the sacred dagger'd through and split usunder a choice made in perfect honesty now rolls in me like thunder. Of time and tide, I waited believing bright in your return the hands ran down eventually but will I ever learn? For yet I chance my dancing luck balanced on the edge to tumble into history or stay within my pledge. I am split right down the middle as these taxidermy dreams my insides on the outside coming loose unto my seams. I gaze into their marble eyes dare to touch a proffered paw I am locked in here, forever disbelieving what I saw. Your face came in from the ages and I tumbled, caring not of promises I had made the moment time forgot. Just as I thought you gone, forever there you are again and now I'm living with the beasts my winged heart aflame. Fill me up with chemicals to float, suspended, in my jar my other life is dying gazed only from afar. An actress of reality I am wholly in pretence unable to exert myself I sit upon the fence. Just as do the quietened beasts whom my secrets I shall tell I love you, darling, just as much as I did the day I fell. In my pose'd capture of grotesquerie divine I am strangely whole again myself, outside of time. So, come and walk these rooms once more pass around my tortured form. Organs draped and ribboned, complete, I am, when torn. Take my body-blocks apart to only you I yield, and every little shred of me wrap around you for a shield. My parts protect in constance each step upon your path, in bits of broken wonder I shall burn upon your hearth. For love is all that I can give and in pieces there are more sides to coat with blessed pain oh, love, rip me to the core. The beasts gaze at me so oddly I think they feel me vain for I don't wish of being whole just of pieces, torn again. My destiny is tableaux if I cannot be with you and, thus arranged, my pieces show only what is true. That I may never find sweet peace, in this body, only strife. I must be smashed to smithereens to be brought back to life. Dear beasts, please let me stay a while you're my family. And this old house is comfort my safe menagerie. |
Meet me on the beachCome, meet me on the beach
where the sharp, tangy breeze whips up my hair and ardour. Put your arms around me as the salt spray clings to us, and seasons us for one another. Let's sit upon the pebbles in the middle of winter, alone, save for the crying of a gull. Whisper your sweet breath into my head, and place your hands upon my heart once more. Grip, just as tight as you used to, when all we had was under moonlight and our secrets wove us into dreams. That beach, and everything on it, is yours and mine. I would give you every pebble. Collect them up until my pockets split, and I could carry no more. I carry you, still. I have loved you outside of time, for every tide that ever turned, and today is no different. Thank nature itself, for our beach. It shall remain, like my solace, forever unhindered and pure. No-one ever goes there, I'm sure. We could meet again, the pebbles wouldn't tell. I go there, under moonlight, glowing and unveiled. To see you waiting for me. |
The Dressing TableShe left me in a hurry,
with no word of her return so I sit and wait, in longing, keep her treasures safe, and yearn for her face to gaze upon me, as she fettles her dear skin, with the pots of creams and lotions I keep safe for her, within my rose-lined drawers and cupboards, the little blue glass bird with wedding rings upon his beak I asked, he hasn’t heard of when our lady may be back to grace us with her care, her brushes sit with us and fret of the tangles in her hair and all lack of gloss and shine that finger tips cannot bestow within her titian crowning, oh! Where did she go? Days pass by unhindered, and merging seasons pass, without her song or laughter reflected in my glass. I may as well be firewood, my veneer begins to crack, then, hark! I hear sweet footsteps! My mistress has come back! Her wedding rings rehomed at last, the bird and I rejoice, as she brushes out her hair and sings, for we have missed her voice. She polishes away the cracks, takes a seat upon her throne, rearranging pots and lotions, I’m so glad that she came home. |
The House in Mayfair: part IThere is a house in Mayfair
just as smart as all the rest, but what goes on behind its door none would ever guess Up the winding staircase, within the marble halls, or down into the cellar - there are secrets in the walls. From the damasked drawing room through a hidden door, out into the garden where fountains rush and pour from open-mouthed stone lions and statuary nymphs, we pass through all of heaven there’s been before and since. A sybaritic trio in harmony here dwell. Epicurean hunters, bonded not to tell of their quest for pleasure carried out so secretly. Tabitha, Otto and Marcus: a lavish trinity. They live in perfect tableau gratified beyond compare, worshipped by the lesser ones bowed by their beauty rare. Tabitha, the Mistress, brooks no slight of tongue from any chosen underling and will see their bottoms stung. For miscarriages of manners or blatant disregard of her careful teachings she is fair but hard. Her lily skin unblemished: did a master sculpt her form? No, she’s been a Goddess since the day that she was born. Divine and deeply muscled, Otto’s oiled limbs entwine as serpents ‘round their quarry, he whispers, “Come, be mine” An ebony Prince of Pleasure he speaks in Spanish gold. Rich and ever-pouring his velvet mouth unfolds reams of Moorish luxury in every kiss and lap. Once you’ve had his fascination ev’ry other man falls flat. A gladiator, aloof and proud: Marcus possesses awesome strength. Thickly muscled, barrel chested a sword of fulsome length. Candles cast deep shadow in every curve and line of his splendid landscape, on his lips the taste of wine. This lion-hearted Bacchus, a man so true and raw, his merest touch will sear your flesh and leave you wanting more. They love together freely though each has their own desire for an array of fetishes of which they never tire. part II below... |
The House in Mayfair: part IICommanding, in a casual tone
Tabby calls her slave to heel. He gives her all obedience, his collar bears her seal. When others seek her audience she may let them call. Her requirements exacting so at her feet they fall. If you wish her to command you write her pleasing wit. For if you are no gentleman nothing shall come of it. Describe to her your longing with much charm and grace and, if she feels you worthy, you may see her face. Otto worships daily at the secret, sacred mound. ‘Neath the hill of lovely Venus likely he’ll be found. Effortless, through silky folds, his legend comes alive. When sweet waters start to pour all Rome is purified! The primary devotion of this practised debauchee, his tastes be so minutely honed blinded, he'd know me or thee. If you’re in need of letting go and longing for release, Otto’s lingual brilliance is the path to utmost peace. Marcus need not ever try, all seek his best attention both the sexes qualify and clamour for his mention. His hands and words deliberate four causes come to play. Never false or clumsy he shall have his way. He’ll lead you into ecstasy in an instant, you’ll be caught - and gladly yield to each effect as Aristotle taught. Outside the world may melt away reduced to just one sense of all-consuming passion lustfulness condensed. Part III below... |
The House in Mayfair: part IIIThey deny themselves of nothing
each whim wholly fettered ternary points of earthbound heaven in human form, unbettered. Indigo hours swallow the sun three separates meet to entwine dissolving shadows melt and rise presentment of beauty divine. Though they seek and find diversion outside their own domain never will their union be spoken of by name. Secrets shall be honoured and never made a tale a private world of sanctuary sweet stories not for sale. Each find themselves concealed within and wrapped around the heart of the two who hold them, raptured, promised ne’er to part. Yet they hunt and claim their fancy with no jealous, mean intent each free to feed a longing where their talents are best spent. Who would forgo, or leave unanswered, such creatures built for pleasure? Every inch of wonderment they meter out at leisure. Each would gladly offer up their life for one or other of the three bodies, locked and spaceless, in sculpted fantasy. There exists no reasoned sentiment nor impassioned fatal plea, for you to understand their ways or accept them as they be. Their enchantment shall not rely on following the crowd, but rests in careful quietness exultation never loud. While you wait for invitation a voyeur you shall be hidden in the velvet drapes a veiled devotee. Perhaps, if luck should find you a choice for their attention: may I suggest, without a breath, submit to their invention. Have no expectation you have “seen it all before” leave your preconceptions hanging, with your clothes, behind the door. And when you emerge, reborn anew from your heady escapade dreams of Otto, Marcus and Tabitha ever-bright may never fade. Ice cracking, drowned in Absinthe persuasive voices murmur and in your spying, hiding place you bite your lip, grow firmer. Surrendering to chemicals cupidity your queen beyond all measure of desire for the things that you have seen. Honeyed laughter floats on air your ardour flames, ignited. You must leave the house in Mayfair for you have not been invited. Your voyeurism tempered by the closing of the door outside in the inky night did you dream all that you saw? Could it be those Cyprian sorcerers have played your helpless mind to the point of no return from dreams now forever in their bind. If you wonder why you’ve never heard of their legend before now all of those who’ve been beguiled adopt a life-long vow. One that can’t be broken no matter how you try to speak of them lays waste your tongue and your voice-box won’t comply. You may call it magic or witchcraft, possibly, but simple truth is this, dear friend I tell you honestly. Once you have been so ravished angels of the flesh have done their deed your poor exhausted mind can’t cope and refuses to believe. The pen will run dry in your hand if you try for tales that way no whisperings or gossip, the secret safe shall stay. |
Eat with the DevilI'll tell a little gothika, spin a tiny tale
this secret night, the moon bone white clouded in her veil. Come feast here at my table, taste the blood of wine eat your fill, there'll be no bill what's yours is now all mine. I am ancient, older than the ground on which you stand for glamour you lust, c'mon you can trust I'll never let go of your hand. The path is old and winding, the welcome oh-so warm the table laid, behind my shades I'll give you the horn. Fattened swine abundant, piled on your platter Bacchus came, I changed his name Dionysus? He's mad as a hatter! I'll fill you fit to bursting, though you can never leave in merry hell, I toll the bell your soul to me bequeathed. |
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The SpankMany years ago from now
a gentleman I knew his predilections were precise and, to me, quite new. He was intent on teaching deliberate and firm and from his experience I began to learn. So here arose my interest it's him I have to thank for taking me in hand so well and giving me The Spank. He wasn't ever lazy never dealt out on a whim he made me work to earn each stroke I was obsessed with him. I put in many hours hatching careful plans of how to win the best attentions from this authoritative man. I'd knock a stack of books off the corner of his desk and he'd lean back in his chair and say "come here and lift your dress". And I'd comply so gladly already feeling hot my bottom was presented and his hand knew just the spot. Sometimes he'd give me just the one on a precipice I'd stay longing for the three or four I'd get later that day. I remember him with fondness he taught me many useful things but most of all I thank him for every little sting. |
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RibbonTo twine and wind within and round
my heart with yours, a ribbon found. Sleeping bows, in silence lie loops and tails, undone in sighs. Silken lashes, a knotted kiss, wrists together, bounded bliss. A thousand fathoms and light subsides, take me down, forever tied. Glossy one side, inked on back drawn by a hand who's skill I lack. Lungs sawn and slaughtered, of breath be conned yet still I yearn for black beyond. Your gentle bow belies such strength hidden power in it's lengths. Wrapped now, helpless, and happy so in love's tangled depths I go. |
In happy chainsFormerly of my shadow self
I rent and curl, stretch and groan. Joints popping, knees creaking, it hurts to move but not to remain bound and tied, rope marks biting of tender flesh, blood tracked snow. Candles worn to stumps, but last night their flickers filmed my release, and your triumph. If I am to show myself to anyone at all it will be you. If I am to be swallowed whole and torn from faithful moorings, of sameness and comfort, I will be torn by you. Cut me again, or forever kill me! I shall not change. I am unable. |
The Domme's PrayerRaise your eyes, take me in
inhale as you see. A collar circles, mine to own what do you know of me? I approach, your eyes dilate, scent me on the air. You ask me "please", my fingers tease and knot within your hair. Do not weep, tears may not fall requirements are as rules. Push the limit, another sting I'll apply the tools. This Goddess walks in constant truth my lips speak your belief. And if, perhaps, I deem it so you may have some relief. Show me your shame, a heart to heal to punish is to love. Pleasure, pain, our needs the same fit as hand in iron glove. |
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Ode to LatexI never dream of riches
Never lusted after gold I’ve never yearn for silky furs Even when I’m cold I’ll never want for diamonds Rubies I can’t bear And all the girls, wishing for pearls For those I couldn’t care But, oh! Show me the latex Bind me up so tight To shine my ass, I’ll never pass On me it just feels right Glossy, yielding contours Warming on my curves My rubber, how he loves it A connoisseur among the pervs Zip it up my joyful chest And buckle up my bum Aroma lingers, on your fingers Long after play is done I love it in off-duty form Unbuffed, so unassuming Slide it on, AMAZON! Mythical, inhuman Creaking, squeaking, pops and ripples Herald my arrival I may be weak, perhaps a freak I need it for survival A shining, black clad Goddess Perfectly presented Squeeze my hips, tighten your grip This armour can’t be dented Tie me up, tie you down With stockings used… done…. shredded Here’s the thing, give me a ring In rubber I’ll be wedded If godliness is to be clean And the righteous stand in sun What the heck, from toe to neck The rubberist is at one It is, at once, my passion My love and so my DEMON And I know you, to love it too You mark it with your…. finger prints! |