Crucifixtion In Paradise

She would come to me at my weakest
And give me a taste of the lash,
Spiked and supple leather awash in sickness.
My flesh would be laid open
And my blood would splash the walls,
The sting of the whip would leave me hoping
For another round of torturous desire.
I would fall if not for the chains
That kept my muscles on fire.
My cries muffled by a leather thong
Stuffed into my mouth.
Is it right to feel this wrong?
She leaves me gasping for breath,
Salty sweat stinging my wounds,
Begging at her feet like a pet.
Then she would take the hardened rod
And slowly churn the cream
Like a forbidden gift from God.
Pleasure that are rarely ever seen
Except for those crucified
To see paradise within a dream.
She lays shame to all others,
Novices of the crafts,
And kills memories of the lovers
Who could never please me this way.
She is like a drug to me,
Making me willingly enter the fray.
In her hands, she pleases Gods and man,
A mistress in tight black leather
With desire splashed on a pentagram.