The last of my BDSM poems.
All the wild fuckwhores are foaming and stamping,
Humping and bucking and rearing and vamping,
We’ll need some bum breakers to tame all them bitches,
So polish your boots, men, and lower your britches.
He smiled at her and said “You slattern,
I made you in my ideal pattern,
My whore, my slut, my crawling creature”,
There is no dark where his words reach her.
Let me define just who you are,
I know the secret key,
A slave or switch, a top or dom, a fucking wannabe,
If you don’t fit yourself within my perfect paradigm,
You cannot play my D/s game and waste my precious time.
To make a perfect dominant,
His cock must be most prominent,
He needs to stomp and stamp his feet,
A mambo master rules the beat,
The whores are all his special meat:
Such traits are thus concomitant.
Paradise is right at hand
And whip and cane and rope and brand,
Heaven in his touch and taste,
A league of angels, fucked unchaste.