Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

The atmosphere is hot as ice.
The candle scent, cinnamon spice.
A dungeon blend of steel and black
with brown wood planks & chain on tack.

You’re standing with your hands aside,
your head downcast and void of pride.
And wearing rags as I've instructed.
It’s time for you to be inducted.

Just as precaution, here’s a word,
though quite unlikely to be heard.
It’s said to signal signs of dread.
Your safety word tonight is ‘red.’

I whisper “The rules of this parlor
require that you wear a collar"
and you say as you dip & curtsy,
“I'm all yours Sir, to beg your mercy."

The clock strikes twelve and so sweet miss,
down on your knees and don’t resist.
Your servitude will be your pleasure,
and I will take you at my leisure.

I strip you of your peasant clothes
and dress you up in black lace hose.
Then walk across the room to fetch
a lanyard for your rope corset.

Around your waist, lavender hemp,
Victorian is my accent.
Designed just to enhance our play.
Its beauty takes your breath away.

Smooth skin like bisque, so creamy soft,
dark angel in my dungeon loft.
So vulnerable in my strong arms,
yet here you will be safe from harm.

Submissive nature does not hide
the fire that burns deep inside.
But will you pay the tax I levy?
You answer, "Yes, my sin is heavy."

I guide you through desire’s fog
across the threshold to my log.
A trimmed & buckled trunk of beech
will aid in training as I teach.

I place a blindfold on your face
but leave my fingers there to trace
your contours so you needn’t ask,
“Are senses heightened by the mask?”

The grasp of wrists, a sudden sigh,
I tie your hands behind with hide.
It bites enough to let you know
you’re under my complete control.

I reach around and clip your nipples,
clamp a third one to your little
clit all chained with stainless steel
and just a tug will break your will.

Your playful struggle seems to say,
“Is punishment part of this play?”
My answer is a crop of leather
that flogs you till your cheeks turn heather.

And when I’ve exorcised the brat
I let what’s left slip off my lap,
then set you back upon your hips
and place my man between your lips.

Command from you a swirling tongue,
I push your head still lower some.
Your gags become a rhythmic hum
that takes me near my total sum.

I lift you up and bite those lips
that almost caused my flask to tip.
But there are other lips to bite,
an entrée that I’ll eat tonight!

I lay you on my wooden throne
and spread your legs like wishing bones.
Then pluck the chain that holds your points,
as my tongue thrusts between your loins.

I gnaw your swollenness like gristle.
Synapses burst and start to sizzle,
"Oh Sire, oral makes me shake.
Please frig my cunny till I quake!”

I flash my hand and slap your face,
then say, “Slave, it is not your place.
You’ll cum when I decide it time,
cause I control your body’s mind.”

I grab my candle for correcting
sluts in need of genuflecting.
Pouring wax about waist high
the droplets hit your inner thigh.

You scream so loud it fills the house,
stuff soiled panties in your mouth.
Then cuff each ankle to a rung,
I’ll tease you till you beg to cum.

An arm around your waist to grip,
my fingernails upon your clit.
I twist and pull and pinch and dig,
massage then snap your fleshy twig.

You cry, “Oh Master, may I please
spill my confection as I need?”
Quite satisfied with your atonement,
I let your climax seize the moment...

A minute's rest, a cool soft cloth,
I turn and say "I’ve had a thought.
Bend over on this wooded horse,
I want to give your arse a course!”

A hank of hair grasped in one hand,
my flesh fork lost in nether land.
Your muffled, “Master, it’s sublime!”
groaned as I dine on your behind!

I feel my pleasure’s quickened pace
and so direct it to your face.
Deposit future generations
enhancing your humiliation.

It’s quiet now, your pain has settled
my newborn 'bottom’s' proved her mettle.
Your training went with little err
as I make ready aftercare.

Releasing hands and feet where cinched,
the blindfold, gag and clips that pinched.
I say, “Lie back and just relax,”
then peel the buttons made of wax.

I cut the rope wrapped round your form,
massage your skin tone back to norm.
Then cleanse your breasts, your crotch, your face,
you’ll almost leave without a trace.

Except some welts on derrière.
Reminders of when you were here.
Not given out to any knave,
A badge of honor for my slave.

Its essence drained, your body rests,
soft brow upon my pillow nests.
My strength secures your vacuumed mind.
Sleep well, my lovely concubine...

'05 emel.scott

This is another one of my "kinky" poems that has never seen the light of day...it was written in ‘05 very soon after I found my voice in poetry. Much thanks to Doreen for indulging me and Judih for calling me out.

I was asked recently to give a one line definition of BDSM/Ds (literally translated it means: bondage & disciple; sado-masochism; Dominance & submission). I thought it might be instructive to repeat it here for those of you not familiar with the leather "scene":

BDSM/Ds: The Safe, Sane & CONSENSUAL exploration of human fetishes & sexual fantasies by inquisitive adults.

Consensual, obviously, being the key word here. I knew very little about this lifestyle until I happened upon it 3 years ago (quite by accident). I always thought that BDSM meant people were somehow shanghaied off the street and stowed away in dark dungeons to be at the mercy of evil sadists....well.... err.... all of that is true except they go there willingly, lol. Some people are just wired to derive great pleasure and relaxation from things like pain, humiliation and objectification. Most of the 'submissives' I know (both men and women) are very intelligent, complex people and many hold very powerful positions in their regular life (especially in DC). Giving up their will to a 'trusted' partner in ‘play’, affords them an opportunity for a rare release not often found in many other areas of life and provides a healthy balance to the stresses of daily life…here, terms like slut and whore are not derogatory.

And so, what looks on the surface to be so brutal, is actually a delicate balance of ‘power exchange’ between two consenting adults. It’s really quite a beautiful thing in many, many ways…
Anyway I expect it’s no less sadistic then say…golf?

emel.scott

emel.scott wrote:This is another one of my "kinky" poems that has never seen the light of day...it was written in ‘05 very soon after I found my voice in poetry. Much thanks to Doreen for indulging me

For the record, you asked if you could post this poem and suggested you show it to me in advance. I said that wasn't necessary, told you I wasn't the internet police, and told you that the only person who's been censored here was someone who ridiculed other members. I told you that your words are your own responsibility and that you can post whatever you like as long as it isn't insulting or disrespectful to other members but to keep in mind that we have members as young as 13-years-old.

If that's "indulging" you, OK.

But just to be clear, I'm not interested in indulging you with any BDSM or anything, OK?

(I crack myself up)

Of course my dear Doreen, many people must keep up a public front.

LOL!!! You're a funny guy. I'll give you that. But that's all you're getting.

Who could ask for anything more?

I been called out by judih too bro
been maybe seven or eight years ago
these days I get down on my knees and pray for her and ruth bader ginsberg. Well I think about getting down on my knees, but it is so hard to stand up again. So I just think prayerful thoughts for her well being.

Beautiful poem
not much I can say to it


as for the comments I am reminded of a randy newman song for some reason.

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Down on the farm
we call him bossy hossy,
he gets all his power,
conjuring dreams,
in the outdoor shower,
he stays there hours long
scrubbin up a glow
is any cleaner?
hell if we know,
with his towel
wrapped around him
his woody doesn't lie
his submissive little wifey
quickly averts her eye,
but if she could she'd trounce him,
lay him spread out on the floor
sate herself completely,
leave him begging her for more,
leave him ridiculous,
and begging,
on the freshly scrubbed floor.......

emel.
you've opened the door and look who's knockin?
hester - good reveal

well, this piece reminds me of way back when, when i was titillated by leather and whips and slaves begging masters and all that titillation happened a good long time ago and always i a voyeur via stories.
Hadn't thought about that in a while.

(40+ years ago? oy, one has to say, in smile and understanding that time often reveals itself to be only a matter of numbers)

Here, the content is outstanding, the description piquante, the reality check that it's all fact - i think Dor should open you an artlog.

Dor? whatcha think?

judih wrote:
Here, the content is outstanding, the description piquante, the reality check that it's all fact - i think Dor should open you an artlog.

Dor? whatcha think?

sure judih, we can call it Bondage Station or something like that
or how about "What does S&M stand for?"
it will will fit right in with our family friendly theme

We can call it
Don't Look Behind the Curtain
*(that'll keep the younguns out)

judih wrote:We can call it
Don't Look Behind the Curtain
*(that'll keep the younguns out)

judih, I'm not against erotica or pornography, if you want to call it that. Nor do I frown on 'kinkiness', although I generally find it to be a bore.

Probably the best compromise would be to make a senior citizen's forum where you have to testify that you are old enough to know better.

Indeed, and the curtains would be stained red velvet with shiny black leather whips for straps i hope.....
(when I was a ticket taker at a porn theater I loved that touch....)
H

not gonna start a behind-closed-doors-"adult" area

people can go to other sites for that

anybody can have an artlog if they want one

porn?

people can go to other sites for that, too

Thanks to all of you for your thoughtful comments. For myself, I much prefer 'piquant' to 'porn' but everyone is entitled to their own perception. This is a fiction piece, even though I can testify to having seen everything in it happen at one time or another. It should be noted that human fetishes cover a very wide gamut; they can be as benign as bootblacking (shoe shining) all the way up to being suspended off the ground with deep sea fish hooks through the chest ala "A Man Called Horse".
The first time I had the courage to enter a dungeon with my laptop to write, a good friend (very well known for his expertise with floggers, needle play, whips and interrogation scenes) came over and ask what I was doing. When I told him I was writing poetry he replied that I was the kinkiest motherfucker he’d ever met. So go figure.
Often there is no sexual contact at all in this play and many ‘purists’ seem to regard sex as obtuse and having no place in BDSM. I, personally, am not of that opinion and there is a big philosophical argument going on locally and in national organizations. I think the word 'intimate', more then any other, best describes the overall look and feel of the majority of these encounters, regardless of what specific form they may take.
scott