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Driven
Black leather clasped,
possessive of my neck,
a ring of sorts,
keeping me in check.
Long black skirt falls,
just short of the floor,
tight bodice embracing,
my eyes upon the door.
I speak when spoken to,
given pleasure when I'm good,
I'm vowed to my Master,
and do as a good slave should.
My Master finds me beautiful
enticing in inexplicable ways,
pain is soothed with gentleness,
setting my body ablaze.
My captivity is my servitude,
given by permissiveness,
his touch is control,
my body is an altar to bless.
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For example, I find that a lot of college girls are barbie doll carbon copies with few differences...Sadly, they're dumb, ditzy, immature, snotty, fake, or they are the gravitational center to orbiting drama. - Amnesia620
Last edited by Amnesia620; 11-23-2005 at 08:18 PM..
Reason: edit
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