Let's play the politician and the whore...

... or the politician and the stripper.
... or the politician and the intern.
... or the politician and the same-sex lover.

i guess that last one wouldn't work for you, would it?

would you pay $4300 for a romp with me in the Mayflower Hotel?
harry would have taken me to the Mayflower Hotel.
he would have bound me in intricate patterns.
he would have forced a path into my anus.

he would not have made me happy.

YOU make me happy, master.
you are the only one i want.

so what's with these politicians, anyway?

a piece in the NY Times about the long history of politicians and sex scandals speaks of politicians being risk takers. there's a quote from a professor of clinical psychology that “sex and power are extremely connected, because they’re basically an expression of this huge energy that these people have.”

sex and power.

we know about sex and power.
we know about risk taking.
even you, my cautious philosopher king,
even you eventually
closed your
eyes and
jumped.

and as i drove home the short distance from the second day at my new job, drove home tired and content, i thought what a relief it was to take off my mask of competence, to sink into being your gratefully submissive little slave kitten the way i might plop into an old overstuffed armchair.

except that any minute a sadistic spring might pierce my disarmed butt.
and any minute ropes might twine themselves around my limbs
like the vines choking the way into sleeping beauty's castle.
and any minute your deceptively gentle hands might
encircle my throat and close just enough
to remind me that each breath that
fills my lungs is a
gift
from you.

the true risk would have been to say no.
the true risk would have been to walk away.
risking everything.
losing everything.

i am your kitten.
i am your slave.
i am your selkie.
and in truth, there was no contest.
you won by a landslide.
and you took the oath of office
with your hand on my breast
and your nail buried in my nipple.