Perception

What am I, in that moment? 

A fucktoy, eager and enthusiastic, 

allergic to the word no; wedded

to the word please. And more. 

A slave, ready to crawl. To serve

and to be commanded. To be

hurt and humbled at your whim.

A mindless creature, back arching

and mouth reaching. Tongue 

flickering out, fingers sliding over

any skin you give me permission

to touch. Your hand clenched 

in my hair, tightening painfully,

turning me supplicant. Whimpers, 

writhing; whatever will appease you.

And lastly, a vixen, who know that

this thing between us is fire.

Intimacy at its most intense and 

its most natural. Us, stripped 

to our core. More naked that I 

Could ever be, splayed 

on your bench.