There once was a sub named Salty McNate,
Who dreamed of a boot to the balls for a date.
He’d drop to his knees with a grin ear to ear,
Just begging his Domme, “Please aim right here!”

She’d lace up her boots with a sigh and a smirk,
“You’re seriously twisted, but hey, I’ll do the work.”
With a wink and a swing, she’d go in for the blow,
And Nate would just giggle, “Again! Give it go!”

He made cue cards that read, “Crack ‘em like eggs,”
And wore a shirt printed “Destroy My Legs.”
He limped through his week, but his heart was aglow,
Because every good bruise was a sign of her throw.

His friends didn’t get it, his mom was concerned,
But Nate only blushed and politely affirmed:
“It’s not about pain, it’s devotion and trust—
and yeah, maybe I like being crushed in the nuts.”

So if you hear squeals and the thud of a knee,
It’s just Nate and his Domme, joyful as can be.
For some it’s romance, for others it’s lust,
For Nate? It’s pure love in a steel-toe thrust.