Unvanilla Collection, Pt. 4

Run and hide, you nasty whore,

Master can still find,

He smells your fucking cunt and more,

He sniffs your filthy mind

She trotted nasty round the block,

And licked at every door,

Master had to jerk the leash,

And reprimand his whore,

You stupid cunt, you white trash bitch,

I’ll teach you to behave,

Today you cannot suck the cock

That fucking sluts most crave.

She’s whispered about all over the earth,

Nasty by nature, sluttish from birth,

Now it’s time to retire her gutter bitch name,

To the great whores of history world hall of fame.

You can try to struggle, try to escape,

Unlock the handcuffs, peel off the tape,

But you can’t get away from the chains of love,

Soft as a feather, tight as a glove.

Ropes that hold a squirming whore,

Dominating force majeure,

Or would you rather metaphor,

Obedience is cord d’amour.

Round up day on rough sex ranch,

Its time to tame those fillies,

The hands collect their whips and brands and practice with their willies,

Rope ’em, tie ’em, fuck them good,

Beat ’em till they wail,

Spread their legs and fat ass cheeks and prod them in the tail.

About Karen To and Fro

Everything you didn't want to know about me!
This entry was posted in Memoir. Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to Unvanilla Collection, Pt. 4

  1. David says:

    That is an artfully vulgar poem. Well done. Decadent, filthy. You set the tone and atmosphere quite skillfulmy.

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