Save Yourself

You mark your hands upon my arched derriére,
You may well have to slap my breasts as well;
And, if you bite my shoulders, can I share
 The mewls I'll make? No? Oh! You can tell
 My feelings from your gaze into my eyes:
 It's not precluded: they aren't out of mind;
 I take the blame, though you're one who supplies
 My folds: their velvet black may make you blind
 To even me: my scratches down your back
 Are the next service for my hands, employed
 In pulling your short hair; they will attack
 Your wrists without silk scarves, for I've enjoyed
 Each fetish you have shared for my distress
 With the world: now save yourself for mistress.