Some­times I want to explore your mind, walk­ing through the tem­pest of your thoughts, your desires, your agony and your pain. To soak myself in the rain of your emo­tions and come away sticky and drip­ping with feel­ing know­ing that I have just expe­ri­enced some­thing that no other ever has.

Some­times I want to hold your hand and dry your tears when the pain feels too much to bear. To fold you into my wings and shield you from pry­ing eyes. To rock you while you are shak­ing and purely be there to hear your screams. To be the chest your fists may pound. To dive into the dark­ness with you and guide you back.

Some­times I want to rest my head on your soft bosom, feel­ing your slen­der fin­gers stroking my hair, being nur­tured by you, soothed by you, enveloped by your heart. To nurse from your soul like a baby, to lose myself in your warmth, to recharge in your radi­ance so I may once again stand up and face the world.

Some­times I want to tease you with words so sul­try and steam­ing with pas­sion that your body weeps with desire and your clothes stick to your skin. To force you to excuse your­self so you may release the obses­sion grow­ing in your loins. To drive you insane with uncer­tainty and desire. To feel my lips quirk in a smug smile as your mind is rac­ing and you mewl like a cat in heat.

Some­times I want to explore your body, like a blind man see­ing with his hands. To feel the sleek strands of your hair part­ing for my nose to draw your scent in, to feel the smooth soft­ness of your breasts yield to my lips, to feel your very body open up and enfold my insis­tently prob­ing fin­gers until they are lost to the world.

Some­times I want to bury my face between your thighs, to coat my face with your juices, to have it invade my nos­trils so I will smell you for hours after­wards. To lap your drool­ing cunt with long, lan­guid strokes. To flick and tease your clit just before I bite down on it. To dip my fin­gers in your snatch and then reach up and let you lick them clean.

Some­times I want to slam you into the wall, my breath ragged with des­per­ate arousal, tear­ing holes in your clothes in impa­tience to get to the soft, ten­der skin under­neath. To be con­sumed with need to feel your body sur­round me. To enter you every­where at once; one hand in your mouth, one hand in your cunt, and one cock in your ass. To pos­sess you com­pletely and utterly and totally.

Some­times I want to bend you over by a sin­gle com­mand and pull your panties off your creamy ass and spank your petu­lance out of you, blis­ter­ing blow after blis­ter­ing blow. To make you cry. To have you fall at my knees and sob in con­tri­tion as you promise me softly to be a good girl yet again. At least for a while.

Some­times I want to tie you up in a lit­tle pack­age, immo­bile, a present for me to play with, expos­ing your most ten­der flesh, open for me to part, to tease, to plea­sure, to vio­late. To play your body like an instru­ment, to ignore your pleas for release, in fact to draw amuse­ment from your plight. To tease your impa­tience like never before; to deny you release for an eter­nity and then to extract release after release for another. To not let you go until I am done with you.

Some­times I want to slap your breasts and your face. To see your eyes well with tears as you stand there, sub­mit­ting to my use and abuse of you. To seize you. To bask in the glory of your brav­ery and strength as I con­sume you and hurt you. To claim you. To feed off the gen­tle and inex­haustible power within you. To feel your flesh yield and yet never break.

Some­times I want to do unspeak­able things to you, things you do not want to have done to you, things that leave you cry­ing in des­per­a­tion and shame. To strad­dle you like a ban­shee, to slash at you with fangs and claws, to tear at you where you do not wish to be torn and to drink your blood as if it was my last meal.

And some­times, I sim­ply want to feel your thighs around my hips, your body open for me, invit­ing me, wel­com­ing me. To feel our souls col­lid­ing deep inside your womb. To con­nect in sedate pas­sion, to savor each and every sen­sa­tion, every slid­ing inch, every quiv­er­ing tremor. To fall asleep, finally sat­is­fied and full to the brink with seren­ity. To be at peace.

-Dreamwalker Sadistic Poet


  1. Wow. Yes. Extremely powerful.


    {Just had to say it again....}


  2. Over all, i love the passion in this writing...but honestly, there are somethings that belong to the Sadist/Masochist and that's beautiful for those that are into that. That being said, even the small parts that are like that, i still feel the passion and that is what makes this writing extraordinary to anyone.

    Thanks for sharing butterfly!