i place myself in the dungeon play
room, where metal braids into metal and hangs
off the ceiling, slide into leather straps,
to match the anon dom
in wet black leather
with fixed studs across shoulders and chest.
i free my muscles
into the clamps.
synthetic latex gloves
smacking on cognizant skin.
On my command,
the cuffs come out, bond
my wrists above my head and restrain
my toes from stroking the ash slate.
One hand rivets my trachea,
the other teases with a flogger
then strikes—nerve receptors
transmit to my larynx, stopping short
of a moan, groaning oh god!
but the sound travels into myself—
a power in my consenting silence.
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