A Tes Genous – Paris 1985

Dawn crept over The rooftops
Of Ile St. Louis
Ropes tightened around the wrists
Of Cousin Sharon.
Her legs stretched wide by leather anklets
Attached to chains
Nailed to the atelier floor.
Complement nu.
Bare feet.
The windows open to winter.
Nipples hard
Gash wet
A glove hand on her ass.
Underwear stuffed in her mouth.
A leather finger up ass.
Unlubricated
Rough
“Ne parle pas.”
Her French was bad
But she understood him.
Another commamd
“Sur Tes Genoux.”
Sharon kneeled on the floor.
His belt slithered from his Levis.
Sa derriere etait froid.
Cold flesh.
A hot cock against her cheeks.
Then just the cold wind.
Her cousin steps back.
“Spread.”
Obey.
Ready for the known
To come.
The whish of leather in the air
The leather snaps across her gash and up her belly.
Shock
Pain.
He was not the same as New York.
Same just more
“Encore. Plus fort.”
Her cousin granted her wish.
Her body
A slave
To her surrender.
Unconditional
Surrender
Savage.
“Don’t stop.”
And her cousin obeyed her submission.
Slave/master
Paris
1984

This entry was written by Peter, posted on December 20, 2023 at 1:54 pm, filed under PARIS, Poetry and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post. Post a comment or leave a trackback: Trackback URL.

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