Red, swirling light illuminating skin.
Cuff pulled tight on outstretched, reaching limb, then two —
Black silhouettes against the pulsing din,
A murmur in an ear ‘they’re watching you’.
Shift step – trembling breaths – testing tug, until
Firm, steady fingers lift the stubborn hem.
Exposed, arse to the crowd, ‘Good girl, stay still,’
Breath drawn deep – eyes closed – slow exhale. Then —
His hand against my ass. Again. Again.
Arching my back to welcome each strike. Palm,
Crop – a blossoming sting of lust and pain
And anchored spread-eagle in chains, a balm —
Black silhouettes against the hushed din,
Your hand, my arse – and lips – and naked skin.
Poem by Moineau.
yo that’s actually really good
This is sublime. Looking forward to more, please.