deepundergroundpoetry.com
She thinks. He is.
He’s six foot with a slim, athletic build;
And, yet, he can be timid and so shy;
He’s dying to be dominated, thrilled
By his anticipation; he would fly
Across the world to learn; a certain lady
Could teach him to be well-whipped and a cur;
He’d whimper at mistreatment like a baby
In bliss; he won’t say no; he will be sure
To nod his head and bow down in agreement,
Surrendering his self-respect and all
Timidity and shyness and appeasement
Of appetites will lead him soon to fall
Upon his knees between her thighs to lick,
Delighted that she thinks he is a prick.
And, yet, he can be timid and so shy;
He’s dying to be dominated, thrilled
By his anticipation; he would fly
Across the world to learn; a certain lady
Could teach him to be well-whipped and a cur;
He’d whimper at mistreatment like a baby
In bliss; he won’t say no; he will be sure
To nod his head and bow down in agreement,
Surrendering his self-respect and all
Timidity and shyness and appeasement
Of appetites will lead him soon to fall
Upon his knees between her thighs to lick,
Delighted that she thinks he is a prick.
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