Feather (Do You Trust Me?) [poem]

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

I cum

And I, my essence, victory—

Are hers!