In private you choose me, Pluck me from where I stand, And run your hands across my body. I feel your breath along my spine, Both of us preparing for what is to come, Yearning to embrace.
And you know this, Having bound me in black leather, And tied a pretty lace bow about me, The colour of intimate passions. Slowly, you undress me, Pulling at my bindings,
That unresisting, fall away. Faster now, you toss my finery to the floor, Exposing my nakedness to the cold air. Running your fingers down my quivering body, Opening me, You stroke my core.
And then you pause a moment, Teasing me with your pen poised above. Silently I beg, But this is your time to do with as you wish, And I, your plain possession. And then, you begin.
Sometimes you are hesitant, Sometimes fast and rough, Your strokes filling me with emotions. Your fury, your love, your sadness, your joy - I accept it all gratefully, The mere thought that you would choose my skin,
To tattoo with your passions, Sends me into unrelenting spasms of pleasure. I, your loving slave, Yours endlessly, Dear Diary.