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“Yes, I’ll Be Your Bitch”

“Yes, I’ll Be Your Bitch”

This isn't really a new post, this is a response to an amazing blogger called Anslem Samuel, he maintains a blog called 'naked with socks on' , way back in July i read a post in his blog titled 'you wouldn't wanna be my bitch?' this is the link to his post http://www.nakedwithsockson.com/2009/05/20/dirty-pillow-talk/after reading this , very passionate post , i went into a frenzy and wrote up a little storm myself. its called 'yes I'd be your bitch' (http://www.nakedwithsockson.com/2009/06/24/she-likes-it-rough/) , i sent it to anslem soon after and he put it up on his blog, bless his heart.
this post is for very broad minded people , who like the occasional erotica, or frequent erotica, whatever floats your boat.and this is not an invitation for lewd comments and mindless requests to make friendship in a park, car or anywhere else. so read, and move on.
“Yes, I’ll Be Your Bitch”

I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you promise to tease and taunt me long
Before we get behind closed doors.

I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you’ll pull me hard and strong against your body.
Your grip turning hard from soft as you look into my eyes,
Silently promising the ride of my life.

I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If tonight I can and will be your animal,
And all of it is etched on your walls and in your mind forever.

I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you’ll let me rip your clothes while I straddle you.
Tearing everything that stands in the way—your clothes, your
inhibitions, your past.

I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you treat me not like a fragile female, but an equal in every sense.
Be not gentle—I’ll beg if that’s how you like it.

I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you let me push you against a wall, look up into your eyes,
Tell you to hold on for dear life, and I see no judgment in your eyes.

I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you pull me up in the middle of frenzied fellatio.
Push me against the same wall, and growl against my mouth, “It’s my turn!”

I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you let my hands guide your head, yank your hair, steer you, and
grind against your mouth,
’Til I explode, shaking, pulsating and spent against you.

I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you don’t settle for one orgasm, pick my exhausted body,
And resurrect me with your words, lips, hands and manhood.

I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you ignore my feeble protests to tie my hands above me,
And have your way.

I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes really.
If you tease me until I beg you to enter me, and wrap my legs around you,
Matching your movement with mine.

I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you promise to make me scream, promise to whisper, “louder, louder…”
Uncaring, untie me, turn me around, grab my hips, watch me, look at me
like you have at no one else,
Order me to turn around and watch you make me your plaything.

I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you promise to let your guard down and let me take control.
Let me be on top, and watch you tremble and groan.

I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If I can ride you, closing my eyes, body arched, speaking in tongues,
nails digging into your chest,
While you plunge into me and hold my waist, punishing me with each thrust.

I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you push yourself off the bed so you can look at my changing expressions,
My legs wrapped strong around your waist and watch me melt, slowly
dying into your body.

I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If your nibble turns to a bite, and your bitch turns to a whore.
If you take it up a notch, surprising me every second, reiterating,
“I’ve never known a time like this, and none that follow will match
this.”

I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If once I let out my primal scream, I can watch your body tense until
you melt and fill me with you.
I want you to let me see you at your weakest. Bare yourself to me.
Uncaring of time, indulgence is all that exists.

I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you lick my bruises, and let me soothe your wounds,
Murmuring loving, doting nonsense that only you and I can understand.

I’ll let you call me your bitch.
Yes, really.
If you let me take my time to look into your eyes to try and fathom
what we’ve shared.
Let me watch you look at me, and see you frown at my questioning gaze.
Kiss me reassuringly; this was not just one night.

Photo by Jairo Alzate on Unsplash

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