Heavy beat thuds through the room, it thumps
in my veins. Anticipation. It's cold,
goose bumps rise on my skin. Naked legs,
naked stomach. Naked breasts. A thong stands
between me and fully naked. Lights glow
in shades of red and blue, creating shadows.
People stand around idly, watching. Waiting.
I'd like to walk but instead I crawl.
A collar around my neck, a leash in his hand.
The floor is dirty. Tiny stones dig into my palms,
My knees. I keep my head down, feet
walking slowly, purposefully, in front of me.
Until they stop. To look, or not to look?
I keep my gaze down, waiting. Perhaps being
His good girl will make him merciful. Except…
I don't want him merciful. Kind. Soft. I want
to cry out for him
to shudder and shake for him
to plead, beg, whimper for him
To press into him in those moments
where he pauses
and beseech him with my body. Have him
stroke my face and whisper in my ear
that I'm pleasing him. I was his resoluteness.
For him to be unmoved by my big eyes
and trembling lower lip. I don't want him
to be swayed by what I want.
I want him to make me take it
until he is satisfied. Make me take it
just a step beyond where I think I can go.
Make me surrender to his will. Saliva slips
from the ball gag in my mouth. The cries
of others bleed into the music.
Out of the corner of my eye I see watchers
shift towards us. They sense something
is about to happen. A scene, a show. A spanking.
But they won't see half of what is going on
between me and him. They'll see only
the strikes
the slaps
the reddening of my flesh.
They'll miss the tether connecting me to him.
The push and pull of will and surrender.
They'll miss everything that counts. “Up.”
I hear his voice and I rise before the word
makes meaning.
Stand and take stock of what's in front of me.
The cross. My favorite. A little gift, to swee
ten
the sadism that I crave as much as I fear.
