My Muse; My Mistress - A Sonnet to Her Beauty
Ah! Such a dangerous beauty My Muse, My Mistress!

As she approaches me, her stride speaks of a boldness born from experience. She cannot be denied, she binds me to her will. 

Each swell and arch of her body a narration of passion and desire wrapped in a crimson dress.   Every dangerous curve a story of dominance created to demand obedience at any cost.   

Her raven black hair softly frames her face and falls over her shoulders in waves of submission. It curls around her breasts with lustful abandon, cupping each curve and caressing her back with a sensual touch, promising merciful


Her smoldering eyes draw me into her spell with a glance. She sees into my soul, expressing my deepest desires with just a fleeting look. As her eyes pierce through my self-restraint, all is lost.

She pulls me into her arms, her perfume wafting around me like tendrils of mist. As she whispers of forbidden desires, I become weak with yearning, besotted with lust.

She leads me away, a willing partner in her depravity. I submit to her demands,

transcribing the truths only she can engrave on my soul. Her iron will permeates each rise and fall of her chest, determined and strong as I compose sonnets to her beauty.