Archives for category: Forbidden Poet

If I could go back in time
I would be a Mistress
to a rich man of note
downstairs his maid
upstairs to be laid
he would buy me jewellery
and dresses so fine
shower me with money
in this timely institute
I guess you could call me
his prostitute

If I could go back in time
I would be a dancer
in a musical theatre hall
the gentlemen kind
with the frigid wives
wrapped up in their
wool flannel nightgowns
and when they are dreaming
of flower pot plants
the husbands are
bulging in their posh pants
my skirt would be up
to my arse
no class

If I could go back in time
I would be a wench
aboard a pirate ship
buxom too
let’s have some
down below deck
what the heck
spilling out my tits
the Captain would be mine
I would feed him juicy
turkey legs
I would kick up a fuss
and perform in a beastly
like a spoilt brat
cunning like a fox
pretending to be stupid
and blank…
knowing he would
punish me
tie me to his plank

When you look at me please don’t think that all you see
Is who I am
I am so much more than a body and a face
I have a mind oh such a mind
with naughty wicked thoughts and plans
I have stories to tell of love and life
And such secrets to be revealed from within
Such as my battered heart and weary soul
I have many scars both mental and physical
Each has their own lessons I’ve learned
Along the journey that I’ve traveled so far
The path has had many twists and turns
Many plans both good and bad have gone awry
Many people have come and gone
Leaving their marks as good and bad memories
I have dreams and hopes and plans
For the future some will happen and some won’t
I have wants and needs and feelings
So when you look at me please don’t think that all you see
Is who I am

Every heartbeat a pulse between my legs,
Aching for what only You can give me.
My desires a jumbled mush –
Pulse racing, breath wheezing,
Squeezing my thighs together,
Feeling the squish of wetness,
The rush of juices
Soaking my denim inseam.
Sneaking a hand down into my shorts,
Surreptitiously rubbing that hard nubbin
While imagining Your voice in my ear,
Telling me not to cum;
“Not yet, girl –
Not until I tell you,”
Rubbing faster,
The other hand touching my nipple, lightly.
“Please, Sir.
Oh, please, I’ll be good!”
But being so very naughty,
Touching without permission.
Head thrown back now,
Mouth open,
Panting and gasping and whimpering,
Imagining Your steely glare,
Your displeasure at my wickedness.
Even more excited now,
Hearing the “strop” of the belt in Your hand
Striking Your other palm.
“Do You want to feel the kiss of leather
On your clit, girl?”
(strop… strop… strop…)
“Oh, no, Sir…”
(Fuck yes, PLEASE, Sir.)
“I promise, I’ll stop. I’ll be good!”
(I promise I’ll do whatever it takes
To have You TOUCH me…)
Oh, the rush, imagining it –
Your fist clenched in my hair,
Your lips on my lips,
Your gift of leather stroking my clit,
My pain Your pleasure.
The tide of orgasm floods in,
Breaking over me and leaving me spent.
Your murmur tickling my ear,
“Good girl. That’s Daddy’s good little slut.”
Slowing my hand movements,
Pressing my palm to swollen flesh,
Feeling the heat You generated
With Your words and Your suggestions.
Licking salt water from my fingers,
Dreaming of what the tide might bring in.

What happened
to our other world
where has realistic gone
there was a time when
love was love
when warmth was warmth
romance too
now in this world
of bdsm
things are forgotten
it’s all so clinical too
robot like..
Dom and sub
less care now
let us not forget about vanilla
they matter too

and she read me Kafka

Writhing in my bonds
Linen sheets of white
Candles burning flicker
Fever cunt sets flight
The seeping of a queen
Skin Shabari grinning night
Famous man words wing
Moan groan fits in light

she read me Kafka

He kisses her so sweetly
Red pitches in my sight
Curves sluthood to him
A growl it does ignite
Hips rise thump down
Frustration mounts for spite
Her hands massage his back
He turns to stare at me

read me Kafka

I pull against the ropes
skin peeling from my wrist
a gasping of my nerve ring
tears soaking at my blist
he’s taking it too far and long
a sobbing wetness list
as night begins to fall
he rips her clothes amist

me Kafka

sound of fucking fill me
her moan his grunt I’m done
a low and throaty scream
my monster crawling scum
he ruins all my love for him
one room one girl one cum
my body covered sweatness
a heave of sadness stung


I hear him leave her body
faucet runs gathers clothes
the door so softly closing
breath is ragged as it goes
fury burns at bubbled skin
instead of quieting it only grows
yank my legs wrists and pain
he looks at me and surely knows


gently he unties me
kisses inside palm
tells me that he loves me
pulls me to him strong
I smell her scent linger
look up at him so long
I cry into his naked flesh
and wonder if I’m wrong

Girl, listen to me
move on
it’s hard to admit
he really does not care
leave him there
you are to good for him
he is just playing
with your heart
and he will depart
with no care
it’s just another
brief affair
of no consequence
just a whim to him
he plays the same tune
to all that love
a melody
and they may dance
but the last
smooch will belong


The night is filled
With secrets
Acts covered in
The Darkness

Thoughts covered
In the mind

Hidden from the
Light of day
Seem to come alive
In the darkest
Shadows all

Desires are fed

In the stillness of the night
Consciousness is now
Open only to me
My mind burns

My body is filled
With unspoken
Desires but the

Secrets there are

Mine…dark .. forbidden
Locked in the depth of me

I give the key
To no one
Not even you
It belongs to