A poetic offering for Smutober today, I don’t write poetry often enough but I enjoy it when I do.

It started with his tie,

Looped simply round wrists pullllllllllllllled


And fed round the fret of the bed.

Immobilised I was free,

Orgasms rolled through

 the pleasure of being taken

 and used.

Released to enjoy

raw, bestial sex.

Every time I touch it,

Wrap it around his neck,

Over his shirt collar.

Tie it,

Draw it tight.

I smile.

The tie has a double life.