Taking My Pleasure

taking my pleasure.
taking you, with knives,
and fingers that scrape and
twist nipples and squeeze tits
and teeth that bite and rend,

taking my pleasure from nipples that harden,
on breasts that heave and tremble and bruise
with the lust,

taking my pleasure from you,
from your wet shaved cunt,
from your eager mouth
then taking my pleasure from the back,
with your black hair wrapped in my fist,
taking you up the ass till you scream and squirt.

taking my pleasure, holding you tied,
wrists roped, ankles bound,
taking your mouth filled with cum
taking your cunt drooling with cum
taking your sore ass  oozing with cum.

taking my pleasure,
whipping you, flogging you,
cropping you, caning you,
pulling your long black  hair, taking your cunt,
as you drip clear liquid down your leg,

taking you till you become pleasure,
till you ooze
till your nipples ache,
till your cunt throbs and leaks
till the heat of your lust
burns my prick as it enters you
till you cum.

taking my pleasure,
taking my pleasure from you.
till you cry
till you whimper,
till you beg,
till you submit
till you surrender
to my pleasure.

Completion

when you are in me,
your ridged being buried
to the tight curls of the base
of your root,
i near completion.

when your swollen cock
slams into my inflamed
drooling cunt,
and you yank my head
back by my hair,
and i whimper groan,
i near completion.

when you are between my
trembling legs,
and you pound again and again
into my aching desire,

until that blinding moment
you arch and spasm,
and i feel your worm milky spurts
splash into me,
that is the moment
of my completion

Cuts

cruel claws of my mouth hold you
between  stone and lips.
i become hard as ore in the dark earth,
as i trace you with steel. your flesh parts
and blooms a red passageway
the stain of your surrender billows like smoke.

the cold blade pushes into you and
you open, a  slow gash, tasting of salt and copper
and deep shadows,  you pray and impale your self
on the unforgiving edge

a dark crimson tide splashes over me,
and the suffering of your
summer skin swallows the hurt of  winter iron,
bleeding, silent rivulets tracing history along your spine.
dark rivers flooding dark worlds down your
delicate wilderness.

stone and bone hold you shackled
as i sup the sacrament of your wounding
and in the ice air i drift
from the borders of your breath
falling from grace to grace as i cut into you

the pain floods your lost heart
and your flow pulls taught in the solitude
of biting and slashing, till your mouth finds
fire and the thorns of my kindness.


blinded you fall into molten stone
and drift with the lunar pull of heat and seeds,
a slender blade of iron holds you to your ebbing will,

in the searing pain that moistens your golden flesh
scalding tears sting the blue of your eyes, and
in your exquisite despair you ache into the sharp blade
blessing the wounding steel

laying wet and heated along the cruel edge
your tongue finds stone and razors,
the fiery gash lays claim to your flesh, as
you assent to the epiphany of cuts.

My Wild Mustang

when you ran the sweet air
and soft meadow grass of the plains
you breathed the fiery winds,
and the endless passion of open fields.

alone in your wilderness
your quivered   for the freedom
of endless furlongs,
but deep in your mustang heart
you wished for a bridle of leather,
longed to  be rode savagely,
to run the golden plains of your secret dreams
and made to bend to a higher will.

i found you on the open range,
wild, defiant, full of fire and power.
 i ran you down, roped you,
bridled you, and saddled your wild heart.

and in your kicking defiance
i mounted you, bucking with rebellion
and with patient hand and iron will
i soothed your spirit, without dousing the fire,


and now you respond
to the black flaming hurt
of my silver spurs and stinging crop
that demands you stretch into a full gallop,


i savagely ride you till your frothing
and wet,
then used and spent,
i put you to pasture, my wild mustang
till i desire to ride you again.

Turned to Stone

My vision made you kneel,
but the passion of my hands
circled your neck,
then roughly pushed you prone.

You twisted and bucked,
enough for me to ride the
tide of your body,
hard enough to have you crash against
the jagged rocks of me.

My coarse ropes enslaved
your ankles and wrists
the knots of my cruelty bit
into your body, as my rough love
chaffed away your old life.

You grew tender and became
lost in my gift of pain
as i turned to stone

The claws of my rage raked
the darkness of your flesh
till wounds leaked tears
and you fell to your knees.

You opened and drew me in,
your mouth devouring me,
turning me to stone.

the lashes of my crop
branded your flesh with bites, flayed
your skin from bone, and spirit.

The simple sight of you
captured in the darkness of my
iris, held in the dungeon of my being,
again turned me to stone.

The pungent curve of your hips,
and salt tang of your breasts,
enraptures as my beating passion
entered you, and your slick
coral lips began to flow.

Your body become a fountain,
you leaked and splashed
trying to pull from my grasp, but
I bound you with cruelty,
enthralled you with suffering,
till you cascaded into my hands,

and i turned to stone.

The Passage

My eyes are not chains

to hold you in submission,

nor are they leather cuffs

to bind your wrists to me.

My hands are not a prison
to hold you captive,
nor are they shackles
to hobble you in your passage,

My arms are not whips
to flay the skin from your
back, nor are they canes
meant to tan your hide

My mouth is not a weapon
used to drew tears from
your collapsed self, nor
is it a knife to carve wounds
into your willing flesh

I am not what holds
you, nor am i the
centre that you seek
I am but the path ,
the journey that you
need to take.

But only through me
will you find your self,
your inner servitude.
I am but the means
of your bondage
the purveyor of exquisite agony

The bondage of my eyes
will free you to travel the path
of tears.

The prison of my hands
but awakens you to the
glory of your flesh and
the bliss of surrender.

The whips of my arms
are but the doorway
of pain that you need to
pass through to your
slavery and find the mastering
that you crave.

The knives of my lips
will peel the flesh from
your pretence,
will flay denial of your being
and expose your
sacred submission.

I am but the path you
take
I am but the journey
you will make
to that pearl of slavery
you have brutally hid for
so long.

I am not the leather, nor floggers,
nor chains, nor ropes
nor the other tools that
so many masters need

I am but the way, the
passage through which
you must pass to reach
your true nature.