SoulReserve

besotted

He eases me,
pliant
attending to all his whims,
Playing with my hair…
Kissing my neck…
whenever he pleases,
Coddled
I am smitten,
too naive
to see,
how his charming words
could mean,
altogether another thing.

He needs me, he says,
as he kneads me
into a soft yielding
mess.

© SoulReserve 2016

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