Women, given the symbols get into it. They learn how to take tear into it, ride with the Power feel and later, shocked at their acts need to do it, nevertheless, again oh shame. oh glory. .
She understands the need for dirt to begin i lick floor and put items in my mouth the unclean ashtrays, as much doorknob banging my teeth to, and She says hurry up Her specialty boots aren't new they've been around and over and sliding through nature and what nature leaves as it deposits itself Her vocabulary is one of the loo and we usually end there, my tongue so dry from the bootsole, lips bruised by the cock of a heel refreshment by the rogue leash rug-burning to the toilet bowl and Her soup and Her solids Her derisive words and spit .
my correction for wanting Her is to be scolded and smacked my weak hardness goes limp as She has me count out sometimes i cannot walk well enough for a day and half sleep on my gut
rehearing Her words, Her scorn i am full of Herself, in my need for the strength of Her stroke .
i want to serve a sentence of humiliating labor the camp of hard as nails Women in boots with no smile and an oath to gut the male and make him obedient and soft.
i saved up for a new city and the chance fell here on Her street with instruments to land blows make me admit what i felt and pay much for the urging on my knees She didn't care i loved Her stokes as they reddened me to take home and think and think and think of Her .