"What is it that you want babygirl?" The question transported by the wind Abruptly landing on her core She clenched Walls protesting from such restraint
"I want to be dismantled, Contorted into asymmetrical forms, Ploughed, dug, and devoured... Dismantled," she whispered.
Such ravenous verbs escaping innocent lips Scarce evidence of any harm witnessed Of any passion pursued Onto those lips
"Treading dangerous territory calls for a trap, Webs that will imprison your freedom, But to set mine free to... Punish the trespassing," he warned.
She clenched again Failing to clog up all leakage, Desire's scent blossoming Exposing her needs completely
"But... I feel this calls for a feast, For my kill that lays ripe and ready, For my kill that will be served tonight... In my chambers," he finalized.
"That's what I want, To be feasted upon, Dug and devoured."
— Nanda Regine
From "Inside Her Roses"
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