Message-ID: <22573asstr$949360202@assm.asstr-mirror.org> From: daftwader@aol.com (DaftWader) Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit X-Original-Message-ID: <20000131102010.16740.00000129@nso-fy.aol.com> Subject: {ASSM} To Own, To Dance, to Salivate (M/F erotic verse, light BDSM) Date: Mon, 31 Jan 2000 18:10:02 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, kelly Please accept these 3 diVerse assaults on your sensitivities Enjoy, give credit to my daft wading in the mire of a strange subconsciousness and try not to sluice off from these brackish waters to other altered uncredited versions of this. Comments to daftwader@aol.com To Own An Owner's control, Possesses you indelibly, Exquisite moment; So assiduous, At unspeakable instants, Master's lips torment Gagged by velvet, An inclination to turn, Soft cries to pleasure. Anxious bright eyes learn, Entrancing notes of delight, Owned forever. To dance Deride tempestuous storms, Screams twist the heavens, Plaintive and Ill-timbered, Ringing out ever louder; Harsh echoes created, Grotesque rumbling hindered, Her face a tearful match, To misty rains that enshroud her. Dissonant inclement groans, Power beyond reasoning, Colouring fearful servitude, As she seeks improvement; Submits with timorous fortitude, At enlightenment's seasoning, Metronomic palms create rhythm, Pacing spasmodic movement. Cry for terror at a little death, Bent naked in rituals obscure, Evocative, incendiary blows, Strike to permit moans to escape; Burn poppy strewn hillsides Their imitation, other fires endured A resonant, clacking dance, Across an exposed landscape. To Salivate (Salivant) Une belle femme sans âme Meme si le coeur est serre Elle est epatant. Embrasse-moi encore. Aimerais-tu des bises douces Fremira le sang? Je ne comprend rien, Trouverais-je choses geniales, Si je leche les doigts? Perdue de nouveau, Tu laisses anquietes pines tranquille Remuant sous draps. La foutre d'un homme, Du liquide si nourissant, Boisson chaud d'hiver Que fais tu ici? Je m'amuse comme d'habitude, Avec ces mots et vers. Daftwader c1/00 Be kind to your web footed fiends -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+