My hands are streatched above my head
tied to the posts with strong chain
My humiliation is complete
I feel so alone,
until he comes in.
My heart rate increases (with fear?)
My body tenses (trepidation?)
My breathing is harsh, torn from my lungs
and I try to shrink back alone.
He comes to me, sees into my mind,
he is there with me, in this barren night.
He holds me close, whilst I cry, comforting.
It seems to slip his mind,
he was the reason I cried.
And when he leaves, my body so aches
but that is nothing compared to my mind
which aches with a fevor to see him again,
for he is the darker side of love
that I can't withstand
One of the difficulties in dincissusg women’s sexual experiences is that people often talk about whether a woman ‘enjoys’ sex. This can mean many things.I am talking specifically about orgasm. Not the experience that many women think they have simply from having sex with a man but a real orgasm.My point is that men do not orgasm by NOT touching their genitals. Also, much more importantly, men do NOT orgasm by thinking about mushy loving emotions.Men have to think about something fairly gutsy, crude, sexual, erotic – as evidenced by male pornography. The problem is that many people assume that female orgasm revolves around women’s loving emotions. The Snow White syndrome My point is that since women use sexual fantasies during masturbation, they are likely to need to use something similar during sex. Men have the advantage of becoming sexually aroused (so that genital stimulation leads easily to orgasm) through the sight/touch of a lover’s body.Women do not have the same adv
This was a nice poem. And a nice start. Though, it feels you are holding back. Hiding passion. Ashamed of it maybe? Afraid of it?
I would suggest you look deeper into the psyche of your sub side and feel the passion through before writing another word. Imagine your matster standing in front of you, but then turning his back on her. Pull up all of the feelings that situation dredges up. The express nothing less that what bubbles up.
Remember, your master may read this. Do you owe him a hidden passion? Or all of who you are?
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This was a nice poem. And a nice start. Though, it feels you are holding back. Hiding passion. Ashamed of it maybe? Afraid of it?
I would suggest you look deeper into the psyche of your sub side and feel the passion through before writing another word. Imagine your matster standing in front of you, but then turning his back on her. Pull up all of the feelings that situation dredges up. The express nothing less that what bubbles up.
Remember, your master may read this. Do you owe him a hidden passion? Or all of who you are?
This poem is a good start though!
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