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The broken doll submits to my unpleasure.
I have cut her strings to lie dancing.
She needs the animal in me in her.
Needs the tender tortures I call love.
Come to me, my china, bend to my will.
The rag-filled toy squirms under my weight.
Yes, that�s right. It�s better when you struggle.
My joy is small terror in those wild eyes.
The limbs pinned and spread like butterflies.
You want to know control, so says your porcelain blush.
And all I want is for you to scream.
By
temptation
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