thepoetisback:

Cane

The wince as she sits the reminder of her night,

The memory of his cane such sweet delight,

Lost in the moment entering pains black door,

The memory of your own voice calling for more,

Shifting soft movement the tingling as you take that seat,

Oh how the marks you felt appearing that feeling so sweet,

The spasms of your body the hunger for the next strike,

Flooding sensations of the moment returning you really do like,

His hunger to adorn your beautiful body with his mark,

The way you looked at your buttocks this morning bruises so dark,

You look across the table and remember his caring staring eyes,

That’s when you loose the pain acknowledge the new feeling between your thighs.

Written by me