If he’s not raging mad,
For some relief she is glad.
He whips her hard on both cheeks.
Face down on the bed,
Blindfold round her head,
She's been his for weeks and weeks.
He flies in a rage,
Locks her in a cage.
He's lost in a frenzy of sin.
With a crop and a whip
And a bite on her lip,
Recalling she belongs to him.
She loses all hope
As he coils the rope
And caresses her marble white neck.
Her will slowly bends
To his darkened ends.
She's now such a nervous wreck.
Her nerve endings fizz,
For now she is his,
Limbs bound in red silk and lace.
He holds ice to her chest,
As he bites her breast,
The coldness leaves barely a trace,
Now he changes his pace,
And he kisses her face,
She wonders just what is next.
Her heart skips a beat,
As he spreads her feet,
His panting betrays that he’s vexed,
Then her breath stops.
When two riding crops
Bring a startling change of pace.
His whip now descends,
Where all decency ends,
Screaming lust twists her face,
Strong hands now grope,
As she gives up hope,
Sensations driving her mad.
“Small People take fright,
When my name is spelt right,
For I am the Marquis de Sade.”
