Power For Power

** This is a poem (of sorts) that I wrote for someone who was heavily into the BDSM scene. Nowadays it is just wasting away on my computer, so I figured I would give it new life by posting it here. **

So you’ve got butterflies.
You wanted to keep it casual, so you’re wearing jeans.
Knock on the door and hold your breath.
Hi.

Break the ice and lean in.
Kissing you deep on the mouth.
We taste each other for the first time.
I ask you if you know why you are here.

You nod.
There will be no safe word.
Do you understand?
You nod again.

Tell me, you understand.
I understand, you say.
Good boy.
Follow me.

I think we’ll start out with a little fun.
Let's get you nice and humiliated.
Sheer red lipstick, dark eye shadow and some low heels in your size.
The bathroom is down the hall, change into what I’ve given you.

When you’re in the bathroom,
I’m wondering what you're feeling,
Taking off your regular clothes,
Slipping into some woman’s underwear.

The French panties look incredible on you.
Come here, I ask.
I’ve taken a seat near the dining table.
I kiss you again, this time with tongues.

You look like such a slut. Do you feel like one?
You nod.

You look like a call girl. Say thank you.
Thank you.

I unbuckle my belt. Say thank you.
Thank you.

Get on your knees, pretty boy.
You wilfully oblige.

Breathe in.
Faggot.
This cock is for you.
Enjoy it.

You’re going to be punished.
Do you understand?
You nod.
Good boy.

I can see the hunger in your eyes.
Wrapping your painted lips.
I take your head in my hands again.
Watch it slide down your throat.

Choke on me.
Length inside your throat.
Streams of saliva hang from your lips.
You gulp in air.

What the fuck was that?
I pull your hair so you are looking up at me.
And then I strike you.
A back hand across the face.

I said, what the fuck was that?
Pathetic.
Apologise.
I’m sorry.

Crack.
Another.
I’m sorry, Sir.
Bleating like a pathetic whore.

I slide back into your face,
I guess it’s rough on you.
Every time you choke or gag,
I’ll smack you across your stupid little face.

What are you good for if you can’t even suck cock?
Absolutely nothing.
What could you possibly be good for?
Absolutely nothing, sir.

You're crying.
Your eyes are streaming and the makeup is running all down your face.
The lipstick is smeared all across your cheeks.
You look ridiculous.

Something beautiful has happened.
That fire from being degraded.
Your throat gives way.
I’m sliding in and out of your face.

There is no resistance now.
I bury my entire length into you.
Saliva splashing and sloshing.
I could cum like this, right in your slut throat.

Bile falls down your chest.
You disgust me.
I slap you again, and again, and again.
You're falling now.

Get up.
Crawl, boy.
The hardwood floor aches your knees.
Crawl inside.

Where are we? You ask.
Stand up, I demand.
Is that fear in your eyes?
Or unbridled anticipation?

You have given yourself over to me.
Completely, to do as I wish.
To reduce you to nothing.
Submitted to me in mind and body.

Sit
Flesh hits cold steel.
Lie down.
You silently oblige.

Flat on your back,
I take each arm and secure them down one by one.
Looking down with lust and disgust.
The shower head drips… drips… drips…

Drip.
Drip.
Drip.

I want you to focus on that drip.
Nothing but that drip.
You are nothing.
You are worthless.

Drip.
Drip.
Drip.

You exist only to serve my needs.
You’re mind should be devoid of all thought, all desire, all pleasure.
You’re only purpose is to exist as an object for my use and abuse.
There is not to be a single thought left in your head.

Drip.
Drip.
Drip.

Until you are nothing more than just meat.
Until you are nothing more than a body for me to amuse myself with.
Until you are nothing more than a fucking worthless object.
Until you are totally and completely mine.

Drip.
Drip.
Drip.

You are expendable.
Drip.
You are a thing.
Drip.
The best meat needs to be left to stand.
Drip.
To breathe.
Drip.

When I return,
It will be to a slab of fuck meat.
Not a person.
An object.

Drip.
Drip.
Drip.