Bondage sex? Well… how bad could it be?
Just a matter, she thought, of degree…
How much pain can she bear?
No say what he puts where…
What the fuck, baby… suck it and see!
Tag: pain
Tears
Tears flow… she refuses to scream…
His idea of love is extreme…
And her own. Sex and pain,
So entwined in her brain…
Like a vivid, erotic bad dream!
Of human bondage
“She’s a pain slut” they said, on the quiet;
He asked her. She didn’t deny it.
“It’s weird, I know.”
She said, smiling, “Although,
You might get off yourself, if you try it!”
Surprise party
She enjoys the strange games he devises.
What pleasure! What pain! What surprises!
She’s ordered to strip;
Will she suffer the whip?
Or his dildos, of all shapes and sizes!
The flagellant
Though she knew her desires were odd,
Sex and pain brought her closer to God.
She was often, thus, found,
Screaming, naked and bound,
“God, I’m coming! and “Don’t spare the rod!
Love hurts
She was blind-folded, gagged and restrained.
He could do what he liked, but refrained,
She moaned softly, to please him,
To thrill him and tease him:
Suspense was what most entertained.
She’d been carefully, patiently trained,
Her submissiveness deeply ingrained.
Helpless, lewdly displayed,
She felt proud, not dismayed,
It felt holy. It felt preordained.
Though her freedom of choice was retained,
It aroused her to be whipped or caned.
The pain wasn’t excessive,
He wasn’t possessive,
She knew she could go, but remained.
When he used her this way, she felt drained.
Giving in, giving all, still she gained.
Pain with pleasure felt pure:
Sweet test to endure,
To drown in, till ecstasy waned.
Sade but true
The eccentric old Marquis de Sade
Liked a root, but he couldn’t get hard
Without causing girls pain,
But what’s hard to explain
Is, they came back for more, although scarred!
Not vanilla
Certain girls can’t get off without pain;
They have dreams of the whip and the chain.
Being helpless, they say,
Makes them come in a way
Which is hard to describe or explain.
It’s a thing that’s a part of their brain.
Other women might call them insane:
They, who love to be hurt,
Don’t just come, but they squirt,
As they feel the bite of the cane!
One may wonder what such women gain,
But the answer, it seems is quite plain:
To have sex without danger
They see as far stranger,
A way of life which they disdain.