Figging: Anal Discipline

Poetry? Well, perhaps that’s overselling. But it rhymes, anyway:

You tell me to lie down, with butt facing up
and buckle my wrists to the bed, “What’sup?”

I say to You as You hum some song
and You slap me, and say “It won’t be long,
until You see what I’ve planned, for you this night,
but keep quiet my slave, as this is your plight”.
You reach for the dresser, and take something soaking
in a glass of water, and begin to start poking

at my asshole with it, it looks like a dildo
i ask what that is, and You say that You’ll show
what is is to me at the end of it’s use
but it is ginger, that I’ve carved, and its juice
will burn a bit, after being inserted
“if too much” You say, “then I must be alerted”

“‘Figging’ it’s called according to My research,
and should deter you from any plans to besmirch
Me in any way”, as You pushed it in at last
it felt cool at first, but started to work real fast
it burned a bit, as You moved to the dresser
to pick up a cat o’ nines, and make me a confessor.