Reminders at the most mundane moments.
The edge of a drinks bottle on kiss and bite plumped lips.
Bag strap across breast bruises,
bag banging on deeply sore butt.
Sitting becoming increasingly uncomfortable.
Public transport vibrations hitting the spot.
The sore, used aching spot.
Finding new bruises in the mirror.
Prodding them and remembering your fingers, your lips, your teeth
Sunk into me.
Clamped down tight.
Wrapped in a web of continued pain
How you entwined me in your rope.
Consumed by masochistic delight,
like when you fingered me hard
And chomped into my throat all the harder.
Sliding into submission,
not unlike the way I slid on the floor
as you poked, prodded and kicked me
For your pleasure.
of your meanness
of our play
I feel your phantom, sadistic touch
If you’ve not read about the events before that prompted this blog, check out Lunch and Lust: