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Balcony Bondage - Poetry

Updated: May 17, 2020


Tied up.

Contorted.

Tangled in a web of skin and bones.


Knotted up and fetal positioned, trying to adjust pinching on the skin I attempt to kneel and serve for worship.


A Sting on my back, she whips me in the red spots...the love welts. I thank my Queen and persevere to adjust and kneel.


Through the pressure and pinch and control I release, I relax I realize....


I needed this!


Praising her in worship for permitting me to sleep outside on her balcony floor, she unties me in the morning, I shower her in tributes because I know I'm a good slave today.





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