A whisper slips through the ether's sway,
A sultry secret to brighten his day.
A snapshot taken, a tease, a dare,
A playful reminder—no fabric is there.

Wherever I wander, whatever I do,
The thought lingers softly, deliciously true.
No lace to confine, no silk to betray,
Only the thrill of the game we play.

It's easy, it's wicked, a spark in the night,
A message of longing, of pure delight.
Through the lens, my confession, my silent decree:
I am bare beneath, and he's the key.

I overpour with secrets of myraid temptations,
So foul it would make one's mind sway,
And simmer satans glee,
So raw,
They associate blood with lust,
And flesh and skin as an element of desire and worship,
So menacing yet delightful,
Pleasure that Involves both the extremes,
A symphony of constant humiliation,
On his knees shall he reside,
Begging to unearth more of the pleasure,
It's permanent reminder on his body shall remain,
In the form of a scar,
Reminding him of the pleasure and pain,