Mind Caviar Poetry

Deportment
by Renton

Walk towards me.

Slower.

One foot precisely in front of the other.

Yes.

Just like that.

s-l-o-w-l-y.

Keep that book balanced on top of your head.

Don't feel silly.

It's how nice Victorian girls learned deportment.

Now turn around.

That's it.

Walk back towards the dresser.

Very, very slowly.

So I can watch your weight transfer from one cheek to the other.

I love to watch your naked bottom as you walk.

Love the way it moves.

Love the shape of your ass that your high heels create.

It's the part of you I love to kiss.

Love to scratch.

Love to spank.

Love to bring my leather belt down on it, til it grows bright red.

Then kiss, and kiss again.

Walk slowly, back straight, head held proud. 

As I enjoy the slow dance of your behind.

I love big, small, round heart-shaped, wide, narrow, plump, skinny, shiny pale, white, olive, dark behinds.

I love to mark them all as my territory.

I will make you walk back and forth across my room.

A hundred times over.

If that's what it takes.

To make you drop the damn book.

That you balance so well on your proud head.

Drop it.

And give me an excuse.

To lay my hands.

On your behind.

Copyright © 2000 Renton. All rights reserved.
 

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