i thought of kneeling there on that rubber matt
penning index cards
in an elaborate game you play with me
i stroke as fuel
under strict orders never to release
one word per index card
from which i may conduct but one sentence
which you view from a webcam
if it amuses you...you visit me to reward me with pleasure
the granting of you watching me stroke
and letting me stare at your heels
leaving me with the number of words i may use in my next sentence
if it displeases or bores you...you visit to punish
a face slapping and a lecture
on how your time is valuable
and i must not waste it
with poor sentences
you are a cruel teacher
offering desperation and denial vs. strict psychological domination
regardless
left to contemplate each ordeal
in a long, prolonged, protracted, suffering
its only expression to accompany moans and whimpers
single sentences to allure pleasure
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