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 © Amy Green | Year Posted 2014
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