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

Poem

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Mehta Avatar
April 22, 2014 at 9:42 AM
Congratulations again on the fine win with this lovely poem, Amy
A   Avatar
April 21, 2014 at 9:35 PM
Hey Amy, Congratulations, --Enjoyed your awesome win. Thank you so much for the support... Always & forever *Linda
Dom Avatar
April 17, 2014 at 12:01 AM
Very...supple. :-)
Kamoonpuri Avatar
April 16, 2014 at 2:47 AM
An extraordinary poem! Great style and content. U might like my latest poem. Pls do review it.
Dietrich Avatar
April 15, 2014 at 7:06 PM
this is awesome, Amy. Writing of what is so much a part of you!!
Callus Avatar
April 12, 2014 at 3:36 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(?)
Callus Avatar
April 22, 2014 at 2:17 PM
congrats on this fine win. // paul
Smith Avatar
April 12, 2014 at 7:31 AM
This is so good. I like all the hidden meaning Amy......hugs Tim
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