Vulpine Viciousness

I kneel as he looks down at the advance       
Of my lips on his cunning shaft; he flirts        
With me and praises prettiness; the dance        
Of fine foxy insinuation hurts,        
As if he's tearing wings off butterflies,        
With vulpine viciousness (this, I adore);        
I suck him, but my murmurs aren't replies:        
The conversation languishes; the floor        
Is tough upon the knees, as is disdain        
He intimates with vigour; this approach        
Suffices: as I tremble, there is pain        
to accept sans objection; he will coach        
My lips to serve his inner fox; his glance        
Ensures I genuflect: his look enchants.