Chained down here.
I feel night closing in once again.
The killer is coming down stairs,
To do what he wishes.
Over and over again.
Little does he know.
I hardly ever scream.
For the pleasure he gives me,
Is my psychotic dream....
Every last scrape.
Means even more.
Even with this rape,
I must adore.
His love.
Is my love, I must confess.
Even if I die,
Id feel so blessed.
His hands now stroking .
My long blonde hair blows,
In this soft basment draft.
Hes looking for signs,
Of pain, torture, agony....
If this is what he wants,
He'll be suprised with what he sees.
After I was with him for years, and years.
I slowly gave up and accepted his gift to me.
Even if my hands are handcuffed,
His love, His grace, His anger.....
Is enough....
As we make love,
For the fifth time today.
I relize that its fate,
That kept me here out of harms way.
His hands now stroking....
My hair blows in this basement breeze,
As my lover, my companion.
Goes about his daily routine.
________________________________© John Minoia 2008
Heyy All
This one is messed up. About a girl who gets kidnapped, And after years and years of rape and abuse by a wanted killer, she accepts things for what they are worth.
And starts to enjoy what hes doing to her !
Hope you like it
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This post has been edited by Eat-Sleep-andJam: Jun 30 2008, 03:47 AM
