deepundergroundpoetry.com
Patterns
The patterns of the clouds often reminds
Me of the way he patterned me at dusk;
The cane marks made me shriek, as my behind's
Quite reddened; they ensured the sensual musk
Added its scent to every single strike
He swished across my backside and my thighs,
With all the force I've truly come to like;
Being submissive, I cannot disguise
The feelings that just mean I can’t resist
The hope that further beatings will ensue;
My flesh is tainted; and a masochist
Could hardly ask for more; nor could I rue
How each ridge on my arse slowly flattens
To such dark, delightful, dusky patterns
Me of the way he patterned me at dusk;
The cane marks made me shriek, as my behind's
Quite reddened; they ensured the sensual musk
Added its scent to every single strike
He swished across my backside and my thighs,
With all the force I've truly come to like;
Being submissive, I cannot disguise
The feelings that just mean I can’t resist
The hope that further beatings will ensue;
My flesh is tainted; and a masochist
Could hardly ask for more; nor could I rue
How each ridge on my arse slowly flattens
To such dark, delightful, dusky patterns
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