Wednesday, July 1, 2015

Unholy Torment

Bound, captured,
Caught in his lair.
His voice soft,
Wicked tones,
Knowing he will not spare 
My aroused body from
His dark carnal lust.
The feel of leather
As it traces my curves,
Breath catches,
So much to learn.
Unholy torment,
Taunting, teasing,
Sinful delight.
First strike sends chills,
First plead, his will,
Second strike,
Urge builds,
Third, fourth, fifth strike,
Craving mounts,
Reaching the nexus
Of unbridled desire.
Needing release,
Begging it so,
His quiet answer - no.
Leather on skin,
Tracing once more,
Six, seven, eight, nine, ten.
Pleading him to enter in.
That moment,
That burst
Of final climax,
Spiraling into his
Carnal salacious acts.

~CWylde © 2015


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