Showing posts with label BDSM. Show all posts
Showing posts with label BDSM. Show all posts

Thursday, July 2, 2015

The High

He enters striding with confidence,
Knowing she can’t see his blind seduction.
She knows it’s time to push his limits,
His jaw sets in controlled detonation.
In one terrifying moment, regret hits her mind, 
She realizes she’s awakened the beast 
From his raving slumber.
His patience she’s pushed,
Tis her bad habit he’s seen.
His eyes say it all without a word,
His soul of fire rages within.
His commands low and deliberate,
She cannot resist his deep dark sin.
Waiting for the first strike,
He taunts, but nothing happens.
She glances begging for his leather,
Her racing heart quickens,
The strike hits hard in a fountain of flames,
She steels herself against the pain.
Not many could withstand the fire felt so strong,
But she is impervious to its bite and sting.
Tis a peaked perfection to her carnal desires,
She feels alive as her passions build higher.
Tears flowing, she knows she’s branded
With his mark, his touch, no longer stranded
In the pit of her own private hell,
He’s carried her through the molten well.
One touch, you’ll see how the interplay works,
Tis the exchange of power, the unwavering thirst
For strength and control, tis her desires
That feed the fuel of his own lustful fires.
A stepping stone was reached in their bond.
An agreement made, a contract signed 
In the marks on her body and the gleam in his eye.
No pride could he steal, no shame in her mind
For this is the power, the bond, the high.

~CWylde © 2015


Monday, February 2, 2015

With His Chains

Some say to be bound is oppressive,
But they don’t understand the submissive,
She is much stronger than seems,
She knows herself, her inner dreams.
She is independent, and a feminist
Believing her core, Sir her genesis.
Submission is a deserved gift,
To a Sir, ‘tis a treasured shift,
Not demanded, freely given, 
A give and take, her idea of heaven.
She has her demons needing released,
With his mark, Sir becomes her priest,
Through pain she finds her saving grace,
Through pleasure she finds her quiet space.
His bonds take her to the calmest sea,
With his chains, he sets her free.

CWylde © 02-03-15


Sunday, January 25, 2015

Purge Me

How can I tell from where my demons come?
How can I tell what makes them run?
I do not know what opens their door,
Nor how their taunts collapse me to the floor.
I know only that they are very real,
And come to me with no appeal.
I’ve been judged from when I was a girl,
By those who believed theirs a better world.
I feel so deeply, and yes, I bleed. 
I have lived through one single creed.
To protect those downtrodden,
But who will protect me, relieve my burden.
This is the curse of being a submissive,
Without her Sir, life is aversive.
She needs his control, the mark on her skin,
Without it, there is no purge for her sin.
Come, bring the ropes, the belt,
Leave your mark, leave your welt.
Cleanse me, purge me,
Love me, I’m on my knees.

CWylde © 01-25-15





Sunday, January 4, 2015

Release the Demons



Silence, Dark, womblike,
Bound by leather at your will, as you like,
Skin exposed to your touch, your kiss,
At your mercy, Sir, nothing is amiss.

Hearing your footsteps as you approach,
Feeling your energy, your fire, your reproach,
Knowing the beast is controlled, full of power,
Craving your eyes to melt me in this hour.

Your lash hits first strike, sting fires my skin,
Release for the demons churning within,
I cry out, pain released in the tears 
As you soothe my spirit, taking my fears.

Ten lashes, I count, brings my penance,
My sins long ago needing repentance.
You, my Sir, have taken them, sent them away,
Taking me to a deep, dark healing this day.

Feeling your breath now close, soothing me
Urging me to take your essence inside me,
Listening to your soothing words gently spoken,
Feeling your gentle touch, this love is no token.

You, alone, have taken from me the urge to flea
Your sweet dark embrace, your will becomes of me.
This magic you wield over me complete,
This bond now forever, no more defeat.

CWylde © 01/04/15

(written in response to prompt #DepecheSex by @Supernaturavil)







Saturday, January 3, 2015

This Man I Call Sir

Entering the darkened room thick with lust’s desire,
Dark eyes drawing me in setting my skin on fire.
I kneel to him, I have no will but his,
To hear his pleasure, feel his power is bliss.
I would follow him down to where he leads,
Trusting his guidance, his lash my prayer beads,
The sting of his mark, my supplication,
His commands, my fervent dedication
As he takes me to his land of release.
He could destroy me, yet he brings me peace.
He knows me so well, knows each quiver, each cry,
The edge is near, my ache for release raises me high,
“You’re getting closer, my Good Girl, but you must wait.”
“Please, Sir, I cannot!” imploring in my fevered state.
Pushing me farther with each touch, blood rushes,
Taking me now, passion brings brilliant skin blushes,
“Now, my Good Girl!” His voice commands, I follow,
Hearing his pleasure, his primal growl, ground so hallow,
Joined now, riding the waves of paradise together,
This man, this master, the one I proudly call Sir.

CWylde © 01/03/15
(written in response to poetry prompt #DsubVerse)


Friday, September 5, 2014

Sir's Beads

Sir's text told her what he desired,
Her heart stopped at his words.
The thoughts of his touch and
His desire of her, her Sir
Her trust in him
Brings her to her knees.
He comes to her and bids her rise,
The scene begins with
The pull of the beads.

The pull of the beads twirled her
And threw her face down on the bed.
Sir took each single strand and wrapped her arms and wrists to each other.
Her body glistened with beads of sweat
As she waited, not seeing his intent.
She felt the pull of her legs open wide.
His hands lifting her hips, bringing her
Back to her knees, exposing her, Vulnerable to his control.
His fingers toy with her bringing her
Further to ecstacy.
One strand left that hung from her waist
Inserted into her wet pussy.
She gasped at the cold entering and
The sensation of the beads inside.
Opening her legs even wider,
He fingers her, toying with the beads
As they pressed into her clit
Moving in and out
Making her writhe with desire.
Leaving the one strand,
He makes his entry with his
Hard enlarged cock.
She hears his gasp as he feels the pressure,
Beads against cock, against clit.
The inner massage of the beads
As he moves in and out,
Thrusting harder and deeper inside.
She's filled and is on the brink of orgasmic crest,
He thrusts deep holding to the end of the strand.
He thrusts deeper,
"Cum for me now, Little One! "
She bursts into the abyss,
He pulls the strand at that perfect moment,
He thrusts deeper and cums harder with
The sensation.
She cannot move, has no voice.
She only feels his pulsating throb
As he empties himself in her.
It all started with the pull of the beads.

CWylde ⓒ 09 / 05 / 14