It lingers soft, it clings so sweet,
A fragrance rich, a spell complete.
Not bottled, bought, or sprayed with care,
But something raw—it fills the air.

The scent of power, the scent of sin,
The musk of Her against my skin.
It wraps me up, it pulls me close,
A drug, a need I crave the most.

Leather, spice, a wicked tease,
A whisper floating on the breeze.
The heat, the sweat, the trace she leaves,
It haunts my breath—I want to breathe.

I close my eyes, I sink, I drown,
She purrs, “Good boy, now get back down.”
Her scent, my leash, the air I take,
A perfume made for me to break.