This is a small collection of BDSM poetry I have written about pleasure, subspace and D/s dynamics. I hope you enjoy!
**It Feels So Good**
There is a moment,
Where he is enthusiastically
Eating me.
His fingers inside me.
His tongue rolling.
His lips kissing.
I look down, and watch him lick me.
And rather than old thoughts of
“When will it be over”,
“Why am I not getting off?”,
“What’s wrong with me?”
I think,
“This feels so good”.
And I just feel,
How good it feels.
**Sub Space**
The beauty in existing in Sub Space.
This magical space in which;
I do not have to make any decisions.
I feel no fear.
I do not think.
I feel safe.
I feel secure.
I trust.
I please.
I obey without worry of being hurt.
My pleasure is prioritized, not shamed.
When he binds my arms to my body.
When he takes control.
When he tells me what to do.
When he pleases himself with me.
When he forces eye contact.
When he holds me down and makes my body shake.
When he covers my mouth.
When he moves my body.
This kind of trust with another human is not something I have experienced in many areas of my life.
My innocence had been harmed.
My body abused.
My spirit broken.
To have someone with whom I trust enough,
To release all control.
To release all inhibitions.
To know that I am not in danger.
That I am safe.
And that relinquishing control, does not lead to harm,
But to immense pleasure.
Take me to Sub Space.
Let me submit.
**The Fetal Position**
As I imagine myself bonded in rope,
With my knees held into my chest,
Giving myself a hug.
I think to myself how many times I held this position when I was being abused and hurt.
I think for a moment, about how fucked up it is, that now I find eroticism in this posture.
Then I think about the times that posture protected my head,
And my soft tissue organs,
From being hurt.
And I think,
About how eroticism is my way of honouring
The protection that position offered me when I had no other defences.
And that now, that beautiful position of safety,
Can be paired with pleasure,
Rather than harm.
**Non-Verbal**
To trust someone enough, to not use my words.
At times, I feel ashamed when he asks me what I want and I cannot answer.
It is as if my voice is gone.
My mind is in a different place – all I feel is my body.
My verbal skills become moans.
I struggle to communicate during sex.
I struggle to answer questions.
I struggle to make decisions.
I can say, “Yes, Sir”.
I can say, “Yes, Please”.
I can say No, usually by shaking my head.
That is the extent of my language when I am overcum by pleasure.
He gives me choices, and I can pick.
But I cannot say what I want
Or how I want it.
At that point, I have given up all control and asking my voice to speak up,
Takes me leaving the beautiful space I am in.
So, I talk about sex before and after we cum.
I share my desires.
I share my likes.
I share my dislikes and limits.
I share the ways in which my body will say No, when my mouth can’t.
Because in the middle of my pleasure,
All I can give,
Are stutters and moans.
**“I Want Your Lips to Touch my Thumb”**
The sound of porn in the background.
Moans and gasps.
Music playing.
He begins to caress my arms and my neck.
He pulls my face towards him and begins to kiss me deeply.
He makes his way to his knees, in front of me and pulls my clothing down to my ankles.
He is eating me out as my eyes drift from the screen in front of me, to him.
His finger inside me as he licks my clit and my lips.
He pulls my lips apart, as he tastes her sweet wetness.
His eagerness makes my desire grow.
His moans a demonstration of how much he has missed her.
He makes my hips grind into his face as he licks and sucks and kisses.
After he makes me drip,
He stands in front of me.
He undoes his belt.
He lets his pants drop.
And I eagerly take his cock into my mouth.
He places his thumb at the base of his shaft.
He looks at me with intensity and says,
“I want your lips, to touch my thumb”.
I take him deep into my throat,
As I follow his order.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/j5rgxg/a_collection_of_bdsm_poetry_anal_str8_f_m_bdsm_ds