I wear the strap like a crown.

Heavy.

Holy.

Hung like I’ve got centuries of vengeance

stored between my thighs.

You asked for this.

Said you wanted to be opened.

Said you trusted me.

Said “I want to feel what it’s like to be the one taken.”

Good.

Because I’ve been waiting

to rearrange your ego

with every slow, deep stroke.

I want you on all fours.

Back arched.

Eyes wide.

Moaning like confession