The echoes below
Are the moans of a saint
A slave to the sadist
Alone she is trained
How long she has dreamed
To be used in this way
Her whimpers the faintest
His pains what she craves
Lips moist with passion
Her tongues full of lust
Coiling to lash at him
He blows as she sucks
Her eyes tell the story
Fingers grip round her throat
A fixed gaze as she bathes
In streams flowing to coat
Her hot sticky mouth envelops
Every inch he has given
Satisfactions in her tears
His looks unforgiven
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem