I know my place. You’ve played this game before,You know how far the chains strainWithout breaking. Without allowing me to touch youAs you squirm seductively on the red chaise. Without bringing youWithin my reach.Please please please,Let me play.My nerves jangle as I watch. Mute. Gagged. Arms and legs strapped To a wooden chair. You hold me back in placeWith just one sharp Ankara Rus Escort glanceAs your hands move slowlyAcross your body. I know my place. You tease – I’m close enoughTo see you, to smell you, To touch you, to lick you,But you won’t allow me. I’m bound in place , Unable to do more than strain,A prisoner Yenimahalle Escort to your Exhibitionism. And to myNeed to touch you. Lick you. Taste you. You’ve played this game before. The heavenly aroma of you -Pheromones driving me crazy.Igniting my lust withChanel and your own heat. The sight of you lying on red velvet;Like a first taste of the finest single malt. Your white lace – like angelsHiding the prize with their wings. Until your own personal devilMakes his appearance and fights them off. The anticipation pulses in me. Pulses in me, pulses in me!I know which side I’m rooting for,Cos I know the devil always wins. You know how far the chains strainWithout breaking. Your eyelids flutter and you bite your lip,Sharp intakes of breathAs you trace circles inside yourD cup brassiere awhileAnd finally decide that the devilHas perhaps won this round. Lace angel wings removed slowly. Sensually. Revealing erect dark circlesDesperate to be suckled.