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Two erotic poems
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Archive-name: sestina
I have been reading the erotica list for a time. Please accept the
following contributions:
Slavery Sestina
I kneel before you, a trembling slave;
Not daring to look on the face of my master.
I crave the whip's burning leather kiss,
You oblige me with exquisite pain.
>From my throat is wrenched a hoarse cry,
The pain I need, I receive from you, my love.
I know you do not return my love,
I am nothing to you, just a slave.
A toy to be made to moan and cry
For the pleasure of my cruel master.
If I earn it, there is harsh pain.
If I earn it, a passionate kiss.
You seek my lips, biting as you kiss.
Heartless, harsh, there is nothing of love
In it, or you. Only the need for pain,
The inflicting of it on a wanton slave.
I submit to your pleasure, my master,
As you beat me until I cry.
Under your lash, I beg, scream and cry.
Then it is over, and you claim my lips for a kiss.
My breath back, I whisper, "I love you, Master."
Needing to declare through suffering my love.
You strike me, confirming me as a slave,
Worthy only of your scorn and pain.
"Pretty slut," you say, savoring my pain.
Running a rough hand on my back brings another cry.
Your lips descend to taste the tears of a slave;
A most revealing and condescending kiss.
You draw from me perversities made decent by love,
Violence and hurt from the hand of my master.
We know I require a severe master,
One not afraid to inflict intense pain.
One to whom I must give all my love,
Fearing no return, knowing he will make me cry
As a reward for even my very best kiss.
Even as we know you need a slave.
It is my love that permits me to cry
On the whim of my master when he grants me pain,
Or the burning kiss of leather to show I am a slave.
Dualistic Needs
Stiff leather at my throat Curled tightly,
Cold steel on my wrists Pale skin in the street lamp
kneeling, silent, bare filtered through the sheers
Looking up, knowing Your sleeping arms clutch me
cold eyes look down. a full size teddy bear.
I avert my eyes. I turn over, softly,
Not for me, the sight of him. You also roll.
I see my reflection I stroke your pale hair,
small and pale watching as you sleep.
against the polished black A faint smile passes, dreaming
of his boots. I kiss your cheek,
The smell of leather soft as a child's,
the rustle of a whip as it is stroked remembering your love.
Then possessive hands, Your warm weight,
touching, lifting me to my feet. the soft strokes.
I stand, exposed before him. Long lingering kisses
Dark eyes meet mine. as the oil candle burns low.
A faint smile, as he bends You stir, and one eye opens.
to claim the lips that are his. I kiss you softly,
"Passion slave..." "Sleep well, precious."
Both poems copyright 1991 to Angelia Sparrow.
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