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)

When I was 8 years old, I used to roll a slinky
Down the stairs
Of my very old, very rickety house,
An incomplete mobius strip of metal
Rolling and folding over itself
Down the green carpet wrapped around those stairs
Carpet that had been laid before the invention of vacuums,
And you could tell
With every exhalation of dust
My slinky looked a thousand years old
By the time it found solid ground.
When I was 17 years old,
Those creaking stairs were an alarm system
Of squeaking,
Making it impossible to sneak
Out on the town
In search of a brown bottle
To drown my troubles.
Now I'm not trying to get any sympathy,
And I know if I was, you'd all turn on me
Like a record being flipped.
And I know unrequited love is a package that's shipped
To the wrong address
And it'll probably get lost
In the post office
At the bottom of the bag...
Maybe I shouldn't have sent you that ballgag
Regardless, my intentions were pure
And even though you can't take a picture
They are worth a thousand words,
All jumbled and mixed
Like a ransom note cut
Out of a dozen magazines,
Again lost at the bottom of that bag
Right next to your ballgag.
Okay, last chance to plead my case
But I'm getting tripped up by that gorgeous facebook
Status you posted where you said birds
Were love notes from God.
Now I've never talked to God
But what kind of benevolent, all powerful deity
Would send a love note that ***** on your car?
Not me, and I'll go so far
As to say that's a really stupid idea.
And while I'll never **** on your car,
I will take you to a ****** bar
And get so drunk that
I'll tell you the sun rises in your hair
And your hips are a valley
In which I will fear no evil
Because obviously God's on my side this time.
Maybe he's trying to make up for that time
I accidentally elbowed my
Soon to be ex in the face during ***
Or that time my dad hit me so hard
That I don't remember what happened next.
I guess all's fair in love and beer
And all I really needed was to hear
Your heart beating like a kettle drum
While we wait for the sun
To come up.
And I told you every secret I had
Thinking maybe if someone else knew
It wouldn't hurt so bad.
So we laid in the bed
And we smoked 'til we choked
Until the morning peeked in
Like a registered *** offender
And those ****** love notes told us
The fantasy was over
Done, finished, goodbye, gone
And while I thought we had really bonded
You absconded with the piece of my heart
Labeled "not for resale"
I don't know what you're gonna do with that part
Is there a black market for broken hearts?
Cause I'll gladly trade for a cracked glass vessel
That pumps nearly perfectly
Except for a small leak
That makes you think the world
Can be fixed.
Even though chemistry taught me faults exist
When impure compounds are mixed
And the best to which we can aspire
Is
Balance