He warned me,
to be careful what I wished for,
to be cautious of frivolous wants
and half cocked bravado,
at the tail end of a clusterfuck
of various bad situations.
And I should have heeded the warnings,
the endless conversations
revolving around offering oneself
as a sacrifice to the inner demons
of a man with so many
but those things don't matter
when I can feel his need,
when I can feel them rattling their cages
drawing out my own
baring their throats
and daring him for his worst.
So when I should be shaking
in the carefully chosen
fuck me boots and leather
as he wrapped the cold metal chains around
my wrists and up my arms
leashing me to the cast iron
of our headboard
while he calmly explains
all of the pain and suffering
I will endure as his sacrifice,
his immolate,
head cocking to the side
after finishing touches are in place,
eyes squinting in thought
as he studies me before asking,
"Why are you smiling, girl?"
Meticulously crafted red lips kicked up in a grin as I respond with the only thing I could or would say,
"Because I am ready, sacrifice me."
To be his,
to be taken and claimed,
willing and ready and needy,
to bleed and bruise and ache for him
to take his pain and frustrations into me,
it is my purpose,
my need,
the thing that cages my demons,
so yes,
I smile as I am chained to our bed.