Like a priestess of an ancient mystery:
Obscure, profound, dangerously belle,
A cult forming online, reincarnate C21 –
The moon goddess for twenty-twelve.
In super-platforms! taller than you needed –
Because it’s what you wanted –
And who would question why?
Your femininity exposed inside,
Behind, above, your tall manhood.
Beautiful pert breasts, achieved so quickly;
And the look – cosmetic sculpture?
A living breathing work of art,
Human realisation in the flesh,
Spartan generations never achieved more.
Your transformation, transcending birth-form:
Pale peerless perfect skin, so natural;
And facial, such visual perfection –
An art, a vision, beyond the reach of craft –
Fierce eyes – so pure; too blue to mix.
The shadows of your cheekbones
In intimate sharp focus, just
Millimetres from perfection –
What’s real, and which illusion, now?
A mistress to the eye – those
Who’d dare to look directly at you –
But to a few, come close enough
For adoration, you will submit!
Your squeals of pleasure, tinged with violation,
Pliant, welcoming the next act:
Being pinned, tied, bound and warming,
Reddening beneath my hands;
As I control – push towards your threshold –
Then lightly touch and kiss with tenderness;
And – last – the walk: hand in hand, aroused,
With joy we go, to wash away restraint,
Degrading, to create our exaltation.