Friday, April 1, 2016

Tables Turned

Innocence has no place in her heart and mind,
Her only purpose is to capture his soul
And make him take her to his dark sin.
The earlier the better, not after midnight, her patience grows thin.

She haunts his mind with her temptress smile,
She’s the Mistress of the art of seduction.
He, only a scapegoat, a pawn in her enticing game,
Tonight the wicked rendezvous will build his flame.

She waits in the shadows of her Sorceress lair,
Black silk caressing curves, hugging her secret wetness.
Candlelight gleams as he enters the door,
She turns with a low animal growl as she kneels to the floor.

His stops at the shadowy entrance, gazes over her body,
She holds her breath waiting for his claim.
She does not know his intent is to tame her
Her game gives way to his ultimate power.

She offers herself to his altar of sin,
He smirks as he watches her bravado crumble.
He stalks her as a predator stalks his prey,
His stride is certain, he’ll take her this day.

She becomes his in one single touch,
His growl in her ear releases her resolve.
Her skin burns like fire with passion’s yearning,
She begs him to master her, from which there’s no returning.

He is her Dominant, she his submissive,
There’s no turning back to reclaim the Mistress.
Her submission is his treasure, her deepest gift
To a man who will love her, protect her, to new heights he’ll lift.

He asks if it's worth this release of her power,
Can she become what he deeply desires?
Her only answer begs him to make his claim,
After all, she says, I’ll never be young again.

~CWylde © 2016

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