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BDSM with a Pinch of Salt

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Below is the poem entitled BDSM with a Pinch of Salt which was written by poet cheryle sanders. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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BDSM with a Pinch of Salt

Leather, rubber, PVC 
Synched waists, stiletto heels 
Chicken cutlets shoved in bras 
Body stocking, pantyhose 

Sitting around, TV on 
Laptops open 
Googling... 
Waiting 

For a sleaze bag 
To book a session 
Half hour, maybe more 
Fingers crossed 

The bell rings 
Door’s buzzed open 
Short, fat, ugly, hairy, thing 
You would think he was Brad Pit 

The hussy's hover like flies 
His cash burns a hole 
‘I want to talk to her… 
And her’ 

All of them Yes Girls 
‘I’d love that, Sir!’ 
‘Are you a bad girl?’ 
‘Oh yes, Sir, absolutely!’ 

Slim blond, flavor of the month 
Big breast, slim waist, round bum 
All boxes ticked 
He gets a rush 

Deal struck 
Half an hour 
Over the knee 
No wood 

He pays in cash 
Then leads the way 
Into a mock school room 
CLICK, doors secure 

Hands tied behind back 
Ankles roped together 
Thrown over his lap 
Punishment begins 

He slaps with much gusto 
Dying to see crimson, 
Speckles and welts 
And sweet cherry tears 

‘You’ve been a very bad girl, 
You need be punished’ 
He whacks her with a paddle 
She sees bolts of lightning 

‘Please, Sir, I don’t…’ 
‘You do as I say!’ 
He beat her much harder 
“Please, Sir!’ 

‘Can you have another? 
Sure, that’s what I’m here for’ 
‘It’s not what I agreed to’ 
‘Well that’s just tough shit.’ 

‘Now be a smart girl 
And listen very carefully 
Do exactly as I tell you 
And you’ll be okay 

‘Open up…wider 
Pop this gag in your mouth 
Bite down it will help 
See how I care?’ 

She knows not to argue 
Struggle equals pain 
With the ease of a stealth bomber 
Her mind exits backstage 

He has a jolly old time 
Bombs over Bagdad 
An onslaught of slaps 
Wood, hand and yardstick 

The intercom buzzes 
‘Sir, your 30 is up’ 
‘Thank you, I’m finished’ 
He works to untie her 

‘Here’s a tip, for your markings’ 
She smiles and says thank you 
Truth be told 
She has a penchant for pain 

Back in the waiting room 
She sits on the sofa 
The fire from her backside 
Warms up her soul 

She opens Facebook 
Updating her status: 
“Interesting day @ the dungeon, 
I really heart my job!” 

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