Kiss
Love is greatly celebrated,
But not this love of mine.
True at times it’s adumbrated
But never named in line.
Who gives his life to God above
The world will call a saint.
But who’d abase himself for love
The world considers quaint.
Submission is deemed deviance
So too the love of pain.
To offer one’s obedience
From most invites disdain.
Mistress who understands all this
Commands my love with her whips kiss.
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