MY body perishes with the dough of your affection.It bleeds into your hardened and sly soul.The wicked split of your mouth opens to mock my desire,your eyes look faraway with a glint of emptiness which you will not let me fill up with my water.But, your tongue and throat combine to speak a language I survive on,knowing very well of its hollowness. My childlike heart rejoices in your cruelty.It follows every rise and fall of your emotions like a slave.The most content slave in existence.The slave craves your whip.It belongs to you and you alone.Yours are the only fingers that ever entwine it.Strike.Strike it with all your might.Your slave will feel unsurmountable joy in its pain.The pain has to be complete.Only then will the soul rest.The body perishes.Its limited in its physicality,its controlled,it is bounded by restrictions.But the spirit of the mind is free.If you look into it, your ego will get an alltime high boost,to know you are the master of a worldly soul.But you will mock me.Play around with the whip till you lose interest.Once you are bored with the game, you will move on leaving me with my shame.

If you chose to study the soul of your slave,you will make a strange discovery, one that you may or may not like, because it is almost like yours. But its safer this way.Staying within the boundaries created by self-proclaimed stalwarts of the heart.