I want what you want

As I press my legs together and
smile grimly at your conflict,
pretending my nipples aren't
scratching the front of my bra
like an itchy finger,
I can't help but
feel a little satis-fucking-faction.

Because I want what you want.

I want to crawl onto your lap
like some coquetting little babydoll
in pink linen,
rest my trusting head
on your chest
and beg you for another story,
like you were daddy,
the hero of the story,
the one I looked to
with wide-bright eyes
as invincible.

I want you to rape my insides raw,
brutalize me body and soul
with such animalistic precision,
that were I to die in that moment of
hell and bliss
I'd get sucked into some outsider afterworld,
(maybe Egyptian since the Mayans are assholes)
where the gatekeeper
would take one look
at my spirit and say

"You're too fucked up"

and send me back
with an ostrich feather
in my hair,
and a vendetta
to take up
with your cock.

And it will be taken up,
your cock.
It will be taken up
my cunt,
my ass,
my mouth,
in my hands,
until you're as much
of a shivering wreck as
I can manage to make you
before I fall at your feet
and beg you to
do me
again.

I want you to terrorize me
until I can't stand it,
and I mean it when
I tell you
I can't take anymore.
Then I want you
to fuck me harder,
until you're chafing
inside me.

I want you as my executioner,
the ax, and the hand that wields it,
want you to be the hot shower that
washes away the shame and filth  
the towel that dries me,
the attentive hands that
dress me
as a lady
and your whore
in black lace
and
white gloves;

I want to fall in love with you.
I want to do the opposite,
sit in some filthy cesspool
of fucktoys and emotionless passion,
and be contemptuous and depraved with you,
Make love to you in the darkest night,
and shove my wet hole in your face at noon.

and fall asleep
counting your heartbeats,
inhaling your scent
whispering little girl secrets,
safe in the knowledge that
your arms are around me
and the ribbons on the
pink-linen night dress
remain untouched

while the sweat-blood-come
stained slut-panties
disappear beneath the
night-cast shadows
on the floor.

I want what you want.

But I want it
more.