Victoriana

At the end of polite dinner conversation there is sometimes this
Appetitive where brutish behaviour manifests typically in coitus
And related rituals, yes, the cool diplomatic regard with which
Men and women of high pedigree consider one another puts
Delight in brutal fucking and burlesqueries, surely it heightens
The pleasure when there is restraint and so you must take
Your time, come not until after the midnight hour lengthens
Into dawn and we have teased each other, me whore you rake
And other such verbal abuses, self-deprecating performances
Rubbing your cravat between my legs, your teats in my laces.

It wasn't difficult pinning him to the floor, if he had any teeth they
Would have been broken by the impact, and when he came to he
Was already fastened, naked, his cravat stuffed into his mouth, way
Inside his anus an enormous anal plug of ivory and pearl inlaid
He screamed mutely as I carved my husband's insignia on his back
In blood that caked my breasts; all of his body markings belong
To me, scarifications of a strange love that hides us in a crack
Upon the delicate glaze of respectable society and whispers low
Beneath aperitifs and opera we never take seriously, the walls in
The drawing room are adorned with their anti-masturbation devices.