#consensual
You trail my body, in profane whispers
as teeth, gnash, above you.
Fingers, play your spine;
hands, rub up, your back, and neck,
and waterfall down, again,
like party streamers,
as my lips, seek,
every heated,
vanishing inch, of you.
Secret moans, escape vibrating chords.
Steam, from a rattling kettle.
You snake your way,
down peaks, and valleys.
I lift my head, to suckle
Your thick fingers,
as they rub, roughly, hungrily,
over aching *******
but instead, they twine,
like a boa constrictor,
around my open throat,
as you latch on, to one pink bud,
and abuse it, with your tongue.
You laugh,
diabolical;
Hell, heavy in your grin.
Your thick member dances,
and sways, before my eyes.
Svengalian, in its torment.
Dizzying me,
as I choke, with a tensing throat
...charmed,
lured, forward,
to meet its one-eyed gaze...
but then,
you tell me,
you'll only **** me,
if my begging pleas,
my cries,
for my Sir, to fill me,
can work their way past,
their narrowing windpipe.
I claw, with catlike intensity,
at your wrist, and arm.
Tiger-striping you,
as you squeeze.
My tongue, grows too heavy,
for its moist cell...
and lolls out, as glassy eyes, roll up.
Oh, Mister...if I black out...
I only hope, that I wake up,
with your shaft, searing my tongue,
and your glaze,
laquering, repainting,
my made-up face.
Vision swims back;
but you slither, downward:
a fork tongued serpent,
dithering, in the garden.
Your knuckles, are tinted:
red, and white, with tension.
You grip my ankles,
and fan, creamy legs,
to their outer limits--
your mouth, urging my poppy,
to bloom, euphoric.
I scream,
in a hoarse voice:
I scream, for you,
to devour my passionfruit:
to bathe your tongue, in it,
so I can polish your aching rod,
with my forbidden citrus...
but you **** and roll,
the hard seed,
with languid,
languorous motions,
feasting on the rind,
until I'm shaking, spasming
thrusting, upwards,
in a mindless,
fevered sweat...
an oasis, pooling
around burning thighs.
I want to ride, your face;
I want to suffocate you,
until your cheeks, suffuse,
with color,
and you struggle, to breathe.
I want you, to grip my thick hips,
to feel me, melt;
to see me glow, above you,
lit from within,
like egg tempera,
on canvas skin.
But your flogger, drives down,
and jolts me, from my reverie.
It drives, hard,
down my nakedness,
seemingly splitting
delicate pink buds, in two,
as I scream, and writhe, pathetically
under each blow,
in a helpless
surrender.
Welts, are already blossoming;
recoloring ample *******
under braided,
leather strips.
Your arm, rises, and falls,
pistonlike
with a professional wrist snap,
again...and again.
I howl; *******
bruised:
wanton,
in my want, of you.
...I guess it's my turn,
to wear the stripes, now.
Jun 13, 2025
Jun 13, 2025 at 6:18 PM UTC
Dont mistake my kindness for flirting
When you wanna show me a cool game or book that means I didnt agree to see your *****
When we have something in common that dosnt mean I want your hands around my neck.
When I say goodbye with a hug your hands shouldn't be at my ***
when I pull away it dosnt mean I want a kiss.
Apr 18, 2020
Apr 18, 2020 at 4:28 PM UTC
Claustrophobic in this vessel
that I'm
contained within.
I'm floating on a sea of waves
that never settle,
but slam upon my
subconscious membrane.
Stimulating my pools to never close,
but stare into the vastness
of unfulfilled gazes.
The charcoal stain within the white cleaner
than the pool it resides within.
I feel like I'm a victim of non-consensual birth,
never wanting to be in this void less
manifestation.
Could I delete this construct, make it static.
Yes, but my breath is continual,
and my morality keeps me tied to this frame.
I'll have to live, even though i didn't
agree to this sting tying me to this existence.
Oct 28, 2019
Oct 28, 2019 at 10:47 AM UTC
I was not free
until you brought me
to this secret place
where you intend to keep
my desire for you
I was not free
until the chill of steel
enclosed my neck
and bore the sign
that I belonged to you
I was not free
until I felt your cord
pull my arms behind my back
to make me suffer for the
want of you
I was not free
until your gag was
shoved into my mouth
so that I could not
cry out for you.
I was not free
until the darkness of your
hood closed off all senses
but the touch of what
I need from you
I was not free
until I heard the cut of air
before your whip
curled round my helpless form
to leave the marks of you
I was not free
until I felt the bars of
the cage that now
encloses me and keeps
me safe for you
Francesca Anderssen 2016
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 1:21 PM UTC