Here’s an ode to what is clearly my favorite toy—as you can tell; it’s right in my avatar. This poem’s content is based on my story entitled “Do You Trust Me?” So if you like that story, I’m sure you’ll enjoy this poem. Happy tickling!
The vision I detect—
She occupies a chaste milieu
She shines against the backdrop of the crowd,
A rendezvous…so impromptu
Her smile is my sail upon a cloud.
To me she speaks—
In subtle word and gentle touch of voice
Her motives but a riddle to my mind,
Left robbed of choice…except t’rejoice
As she proves to share my presence so inclined.
She takes me home—
My hand in hers, a Cheshire kitten grin
She feeds my soul, a candle feeds a flame,
The blood within…her porc’lain skin
’Tis the ink that fills her calligraphic game.
Sheds our shroud, retire we away
Seduction is the knave what thieves my heart,
Emotions sway…like shades of grey
My knot-bound wrists, my fair legs drawn apart.
Now as she owns—
Me hoof and paw, locked under stark arrest
Hot blood rerouted by sublime restraint,
The captured guest…in danger’s nest
Mere bondage all which holds me going faint.
Her next of revelations—
Down my spine is sent a chill
Her mystic self, a sorceress, a witch,
A tort’rous thrill…a feather quill
Her smile constrains my ticklish cunt to twitch.
The feather’s edge—
Its sadist touch is heaven and is hell
The lightest flick rides torments through my soul,
Excites me well…her Wiccan spell
Such deathly love compelled I’m to extol.
She persecutes the vulnerable—
In merc’less hexing strokes she does enchant
Till yet no longer can I bear the stirs
Resist I can’t…I gasp, I pant
And I, my essence, victory—