The First Look

It was the very first look, and even from that distance my eyes were immediately drawn toward his beard. No, not just a beard, it was the beard. The kind of beard I could write poetry about.... As he neared me, none of his other features seemed to matter. My eyes were shamelessly fixated on …

His Devoted Slavegirl

She was unique one time A gentle soul who understood, pleased him Then came the other one She felt confused and torn Continue her role as his devoted slavegirl Or bow out with poise He kept holding her close Pain as his heart divided into pieces Yet ecstasy in feeling needed Her light fading in …

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