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Mirrors are made for such as we
where your eyes are held by mine,
with heated breath upon my cheek
as you stand so close behind.
With softest whispers in my ear
of pleasures yet to be,
you tell me of such raging need
that will delve so deep in me.

Hands whose skill I know so well
free garments in restrain’d haste,
and bare me so in mischief’s name
to show woman of a baser taste.
My wanton self so true revealed
a seeking now of that softest kind,
my expose’d flesh for your caress
in want of searching hand to find.

The mirror makes me watch anew
the reflected mask that is your face,
and hands that in disembodied play
make fingers light in knowing trace.
Moving round from close behind
they barely touch me now and yet,
are already deep within my mind
igniting such a fire for you.

Such power now o’erwhelms my strength
and holds my neck in softest clasp,
it pulls me tight back to you
with breathing left in shortest gasps.
I reach and find a hard’ning flesh
and insistent force I do now need,
my skirt so falls that you might find
my body which to you must cleave.

Downward slides your knowing hand
while naked in your tight’ning hold,
touching where you must find
my flooding self in welcome bold.
And thighs that part with practiced ease
aware that I’m being opened now,
as I feel your fingers sliding free
for all that you’re preparing me.

***** you drive so deep within
desiring all your length to grow,
to fill at once my eager need
of eternity impaled on this I vow.
Twisting, writhing, pushing back
to gain in me all that you are,
knowing that rising swell so sweet
that makes me woman so complete.

Your hand moves up to close my mouth
to hold the scream you sense will rise,
as my body pulses so on yours
and ****** now explodes my mind.
I know nothing now but what we are
the mirror holding us as one,
subsiding now in limp stupor
as you hold me in your arms once more.

Francesca Anderssen 2018
I write of what I know from life as I have lived it. ***** yes, but in the company of liked minded people who have invariably been caring and courteous in parallel with their sadism. You might like other stuff I’ve written, (poetry and ****** fiction) available on Amazon on Kindle or paperback (Need, by Francesca Anderssen)
build for me a dungeon
let its walls be grim
use me there and often
and keep me locked within

in that darkest prison
you may use me to the full
keep your chains upon me 
so I may know their pull

make for me a cage there
for extra close confine
where chill of steel can touch me
and pleasure be refined

keep your whip well oiled there
that I may feel its curl
while I hang in helpless torment  
and my mind is in a whirl

let my mind be lost there
where only I may go
to know your deepest caring
while held in suff’ring’s throes

for there I’ll find my heartsease
as your willing prisoner
where bonds will hold you to me
and never let you go
I write of what I know from life as I have lived it. ***** yes, but in the company of liked minded people who have invariably been caring and courteous in parallel with their sadism. You might like other stuff I’ve written, (poetry and ****** fiction) available on Amazon on Kindle or paperback (Need, by Francesca Anderssen)
I did not know such thoughts
till I lay here tightly bound
and pleasures that I knew not
till I felt your ropes around.

I did not know the freedom
that ******* could so bring
or of eager anticipating
how a riding crop might sting.

I did not know the beauty
of being in your chains
as nothing but a slavegirl
to use as you intend.

I did not know the silence
that a leather hood could give.
locked in isolation
where nothing can intrude.

I did not know the feeling
of fingers touching so,
bringing deep caresses
to inflame my inner self.

I did not know the flowing
that would be drawn from me,
as hands I could not see there
might reach so deep within.

I did not know the warming
that would so rise inside,
to make me gasp with wanting
as I your knowing fingers ride.

I did not know the parting
so widely of my thighs,
that would accept your loving
as you hard against me rise.

I did not know how deeply
you would slide into me,
as my moist and eager welcome
would take you in so free.

I did not know that *******
could make me feel like this,
to be loved in this special way
was my need you see.

I did not know the rising
that comes from deep within,
with unstoppable explosions
that blow my mind away.

I did not know of subspace
that place you send me to
where I am in another world
until I return to you.

You have been my teacher
of things I did not know,
and that I was unaware
of the need I had of them.

I thought myself so worldly
yet was so innocent,
of such dark pleasures
that you brought to life for me.

You have taught me much
of things I did not know,
that freedom’s an illusion
and incarceration’s me.

Francesca Anderssen 2018
I write of what I know from life as I have lived it. ***** yes, but in the company of liked minded people who have invariably been caring and courteous in parallel with their sadism. You might like other stuff I’ve written, (poetry and ****** fiction) available on Amazon on Kindle or paperback
your softly breathing sleep
allows me to muse on times of love
of how you care to devise for me
such pleasures that I know not of

with softly tested link of chain
that holds me to your loving bed
to know that you are there to
shield me with your tender bonds

before slumber claims my eyes
I want to feel your hand in mine
That I may know that you
Lie close by for all our night.

I need to feel the tight confine
Of my captive self that lies within
full knowing that I am
your slave at every sunrise wake

to do your bidding here by morn
and seek your use of me in ways
that have not yet seen light of day
so you shall know me as your own

but dare I risk your wrath by want
of something in this darkest hour,
and think of all you did to me
that brought me to my frenzy here?

my fingers stray and find such wet
as you in passion full create
with desire for you now so intense
that I cannot but divide myself

and guide with care your sleeping hand
where I can ride it in my thrall
and pillow-stifle screams of need
at thoughts of being used again

your touch though sleeping forces me
into that driving ecstasy
that has become my life with you
with no other than this torment wild

that makes me use myself like this
shameless as your wanton *****
needing all you do to me
in ways that you need me to be

....Francesca Anderssen 2016

From the Francesca Anderssen collection of 101 **** Verses (Amazon)
I write of what I know from life as I have lived it. ***** yes, but in the company of liked minded people who have invariably been caring and courteous in parallel with their sadism. You might like other stuff I’ve written, (poetry and ****** fiction) available on Amazon on Kindle or paperback (Need, by Francesca Anderssen)
When I couldn’t find my own love
there’s many said to me
go find yourself a master
who will see to all your needs.
I did not true believe them
it seemed so contra’ry,
that suffering and *******
would so set me free.

I fought and riled against it,
that was not to be the way
that I should be subjected
to mindless ***** play.
Then one day I met him
the one who was to be;
he was so softly spoken
in no way masterly.

But then he looked so very deep
as slow his hand found mine,
and then as if in knowing me
my fears just fell away.
I felt a need to surrender self
without being ordered to,
o'erwhelmed with such desire
to know of ******* new.

Somehow it seemed so natural
to offer him my hands,
that they could be so bound
to give all of self to him.
As knots closed tight upon me
it was as I’d been told,
a sudden surge of freedom
that I thought could never be.

And now he is my master
he owns me totally
and never have I been happier
when he takes his whip to me.
Or ties me when I need it
and sometimes when I don’t,
as long as I can have the bonds
that hold me in ecstasy.
From the Francesca Anderssen collection
Of 101 **** Poems, The poetry and beauty of ******* , (kindle and paperback editions)
Pretty rich girl, softly dreaming, 
a woman is so newly waking
no use at all for dad’s financing, 
consumed by flesh that is desiring 
of wanton flows that force such rousing
to be taken far from here for using 
by men unfazed by city counting.

Then sudden blackness o’erwhelming, 
all sound and vision swiftly clouding
strong arms unseen and grasping 
to sweep her off her feet and making
sense of ropes around her tight’ning, 
with her arms together jerking
forcing back to ankles spreading
with ballgag muffled screaming 
she should now be strongly fighting 
instead there is a wild arousing.

Stripping cutting all that’s hiding 
until she’s held quite naked finding
that there’s a hood that’s closing 
round her head and isolating
from any sense of air that’s cooling
and rampant need that’s now arising
she feels excitement in so being
where she feels no fear abiding.

Put down hard after easy lifting
a lid above her slamming
the sound of engine starting 
spinning wheels now are speeding 
bound in dark she’s left a-lieing 
with mouth that gives no screaming
instead a wet arousal finding 
knowing of her inner needing.

****** rising almost blinding 
fighting, writhing, needing tying 
her tortured form now pounding
forcing every sinew twisting
with such unsought pleasure giving 
this wanton **** who has such thinking
of brutal taking and ill using
by men she should be hating.

How could juices start their flowing 
as crude hands began their probing 
carrying to places far unknowing.
Rough voices talking of their doing, 
arguing ransoms for demanding
then finding her with wet arousing 
cruel laughing at her needing
until there comes a sweet dividing 
of her eager self though darkening
roughly forcing them by wanting 
that she is newly there for taking
captors now in forced confronting.

There can now be no disguising 
that this is life not fantasizing 
these coarse brutes so crudely using
think they’re forcing her submitting 
now she wants them by satisfying 
her every silent wanton needing 
of each to feed obscene desiring.

An iron bed prepared for keeping 
till the time of ransom paying 
fully tight is now her strapping
legs apart, wide spreadeagling
ignoring all her protests mewling 
but her bucking body thrusting 
makes her needing so enticing
till they give her what she’s wanting.

There is now for each unseen taking
a welcoming and wet demanding 
so there can be no inflicting 
that but which is urgent wanting
opening each hole for filling 
not once or twice but oft repeating
taking turns in fully using 
till they are all quite lost in spending.

With captive bound there’s no sating 
screaming begging ne’er abating 
always there is more demanding 
screaming all despite her gagging
each time her body hits climaxing
fighting , dragging now and forcing 
wearied jailers for more pleasuring
ignoring all their worn protesting
incessant in her primal wanting
who is using whom in this not knowing
when captors should be really scaring
but they have never known such needing
standing round and jointly fearing
of chewing less than was their biting
with this nymphomaniac in bareing.

Words in anger, muffled voicing 
some with reason in conferring
then a quick release of bindings 
a body hot for blanket wrapping 
with a fiesty female grappling
cursing now her wild desiring
yet unstilled with needy struggling
tossed in the car for rapid driving 
some miles back by unknown routing
while in the trunk much banging
till on daddy’s doorstep dumping 
ransom now in quick forgetting
as captors with relief escaping
while pretty rich girl leans back smiling
anticipating her next kidnapping.

From my Francesca Anderssen Poetry collection: **** Verse (Amazon)
I have written novels and verse about the interaction between lovers, and consensual activities that form the rich tapestry of living and loving between people who care about each other.

I Hope you like my thoughts.
Tell me if you do---or don't.
Criticism is my lifeblood
The complete book of **** Verse by  Francesca Anderssen (101 ***** poems) is on Amazon in kindle and paperback,

together with my ****** **** novel "Need". also available on amazon
The chains Sir keeps upon me mark me as his slave
in holding me so cruelly he gives me what I crave
wrists and ankles linked with slack enough to walk
collar locked about my neck with Master’s name engraved.
I go about my duties here in dress provocative,
with stockings black, seams so straight, Master does insist
and heels that I must teeter on that lift my head so high;
to please in every way I can and reason here to live.

The silver links make such pretty sound as I move around,
in dusting here and sweeping there as quiet as a mouse
I try not to disturb him much or to displease at all.
to do so might invoke his wrath and earn a beating harsh,
but somehow in each working day some anger I incur
I drop a cup, or bang a door, or fail to clean a stain;
things that engender such a frown, and promises of pain.
Master says I do such things that will worst incur his wrath,
as when the water is in error one degree when I run his bath
or when my tongue fails to clean his boots to glossy shine;
which I know will bring punishment as he decides in time.

My protested innocence of no avail, his retribution certain,
I must fetch an instrument from where he keeps them hid
set to receive such punishment as will befit the crime,
while I’m prostrate upon the cross and wait as I am bid.
Sometimes he ties me in that pose for an hour or two,
to give me some reflecting time to think on what I’ve done
though I think as ornament I am there for such regarding,
ignoring me while he gets on with things he has to do.
But stretched and tied I know full well, I will receive my due,
and bound that way serves only to increase anticipation,
as I test the knots he’s used on me to force my body open.

For Master is my owner now, and can do just what he chooses.
Will I be made to count each stroke, measuring my bruises?
To place them in the neatest lines across my tender flesh
missing those fading from yesterday to give me welts so fresh.
As master tests my neediness by drawing finger wet,
making me to **** myself, acknowledging my heat.
I try to hide my needs from him, I really really do,
but betrayed somehow as my flooding self makes clear.
I tense myself and bite my lip as whipstrokes land quite hard,
but I feel myself rising up to meet each one that falls.

Master has forbidden me to ****** here at all
but oh it is so difficult, like that, not to *** withal.
He knows full well that I cannot resist his falling whip
bringing me to peak each time while I hold myself away.
I’ve been told that if I *** with six more I’ll have to pay;
right now that seems a bargain fair, I need to *** this way.
And so with the next cut I have, I can’t hold myself in check
and shudder as my scream is that of some unearthly being,
the cross itself creaks as if to break as I strain in throes of joy.

Not me, that is not me at all, for I am someone far away,
lost in a sea blazing pain as ecstasy releases what I am.
A rapid six falls across me now, though I am oblivious to it all
I hang and quake upon the cross in ropes that hold me so.
Master leaves me there like that, in ways he knows so well.
Hanging, used, a fractured shell, knowing I’ve been through hell
To reach sweet paradise of pain where I need to suffer more.
E’er long my Master will come to cut me down and I can resume
my duties as his servant girl, unless of course he wants me
for use in other ways that only Master can presume.

From the Francesca Anderssen collection of 101 **** Verses 2017
A poem about the joys of total submission to a lover, for those who seek discipline and control as part of a fulfilling relationship.
I write of what I know.
I hope my readers will understand that too.
This is my life as I have lived it. ***** yes, but in the company of liked minded people who have invariably been kind and courteous
My book of 101 collected poems is on Amazon (**** Verse Francesca Anderssen)
on kindle and paperback
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