The whip skims across my thighs,
A cool leather using snake-like movements,
Before it raises its ugly head.
It cracks down causing me to hiss as
my mistress handles its wrath.

‘You like it, don’t you?’
My mistress asks? Her voice threatening
and as sharp as cut glass.

I nod and bite on the ball gag
That is forcing my silence,
yet allowing me to emit groans.
Guttural, animalistic, yet
submissive instead of fierce.

I have submitted my masculinity,
To an ethereal being, so
tiny and slight but with
a nasty wand disguised as her torturing tools.

By day, I keep my act together
all staid and strong.
Ironically my emotions are like leather,
but life shouldn’t be one long punishment.
Should it?
Unless it is a pleasure and punishment
Delivered by a deity.

She is called Sally. I call her Cinnie,
Short for Cinnamon, but
encapsulating her sinful nature.

Sally racks up her game tightening my
handcuffs and blindfold.
She delivers a severe, painful lash.
I imagine her smiling underneath
her tight, black leather mask.

The gloves come out, all
filled with spikes and she grinds them
into my skin with all her might.

You can’t judge people on what you see,
especially when they are being whipped
off a tiny, sadistic deity.