The grey noir ambience posing on the wall
Shiny black whips that won't hurt at all Listen to the rustle of the chains on her hips Leather velvet skin and satin lips Fall to your knees Femme fatale High-heeled boots on the bed Femme fatale Frame the words she said Femme fatale As she strikes the blow Still you can't go Your femme in leather is waiting The foreboding cold that breaks you into a sweat That rushing cacophony you won't forget You feel her eyes pierce your skin As you realise who'll win You softly whisper please Femme fatale Watch her mouth turn red Femme fatale Hands lightly tread Femme fatale To her a debt you owe So put on for her a show Your femme in leather is waiting And despite all this you know That you still love her so Your femme in leather is waiting How good it is to please
Fatalism arrives in ghostly leather, riding the wave of your depressing thoughts.
Well, this isn't very subtle is it?
He tasted dry,
When licked with sour spit. His scent was foul. Broad hands rejected Curling feet. Met by scowling eyes, He criticised me with love.
In the smoke and haze
I could lie for days Bound by dreams Of vivacious scenes A matriarchal mistress From Sacher-Madoche novella Gleaming eyes; a cruel smile Courtesy could not last for a mile Spank and strike, Dearest love and goddess Do not shirk from such duty ****** and tantalising Bask in decadent moonlight By the wisp of cold wind Cure your ****** And sate your masochism Within piquant smell of leather Find your balance Between **** and love Dealt with swift blows so keen and easy All whilst recounting your ****** burden Unto lovely Aphrodite She is taken with vile passion And laden with fur and velvet
Inspired by Venus in Furs
fresh leather you break my heart like an stiletto on an egg shell and yet the **** you give is to leave your voice live in my head and I still love you it’s blood red like my heart and I still know I love you cause I have butterflies in my heart and stomach whenever I see you I am flummoxed.
A dozen white maidens in ivory silks
Grip the rich tissue in your tempered skull. I hide from them in my own clinical whiteness, A kind of peace in prayer, For what once was a promise of decadence and excitement, Is now a character of lavish leather lilies. I'm sorry that I hurt you so With my actions, words, or mind. I am but a child Stood in grass-stained whites.
My covered eyes see nothing through darkness
but my other senses have heightened I hear every footstep crush softly over the carpeted floor beneath me I feel his hands gently move across my skin, caressing I smell the leather I’m wearing, and it reminds me that I am home, and I have found my center. There is only one that remains, taste. And I have no doubt it will be nectar.
There was a girl
With a plaid skirt, A red bow, And lovely pink cheekbones. She carried a smile, Sometimes a laugh, When we ran through The church parking lot. She was so fast In her white stockings And little black shoes That it became hard To keep up with her. I wonder when, I wonder why, She stopped playing tag, I wonder how it was That she forgot How to run. I miss you, my friend, You were the best there ever was.
He had a voice like an old leather belt.
She had lips like fresh feathers. They felt electricity that night in an abandoned corner of the city at half-light.