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My Supple Whip

Supple, limber perfect leather Graceful in it’s agility when I wield it by hand. Supple are the contusions upon your back as I teach you to tease my attack- When I train you, bull whip in hand. Supple is your insolence- soon it shall No longer exist, after my punishment. Darling I love you so supply and intimate.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2014




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Date: 4/22/2014 9:42:00 AM
Congratulations again on the fine win with this lovely poem, Amy
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Date: 4/21/2014 9:35:00 PM
Hey Amy, Congratulations, --Enjoyed your awesome win. Thank you so much for the support... Always & forever *Linda
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Date: 4/17/2014 12:01:00 AM
Very...supple. :-)
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Date: 4/16/2014 2:47:00 AM
An extraordinary poem! Great style and content. U might like my latest poem. Pls do review it.
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Date: 4/15/2014 7:06:00 PM
this is awesome, Amy. Writing of what is so much a part of you!!
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Date: 4/12/2014 3:36:00 PM
I love a poem like this when I have to read it a few times in order to elicit what you really have in mind. Supple means that the effect is pleasurable and that is what the end result is. // enjoyed. // paul ..... ps...typo in last line(?)
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Paul Callus
Date: 4/22/2014 2:17:00 PM
congrats on this fine win. // paul
Date: 4/12/2014 7:31:00 AM
This is so good. I like all the hidden meaning Amy......hugs Tim
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