Crimson Chains (Sonnet)

I pour the wine, it bleeds along her skin,

A crimson path that marks what is my own;

I drink it slow, my mouth a willing sin,

Her muted gasp a sovereign, breaking moan.

The blindfold steals her sight, yet sharpens mine,

Her body arches, begging for command;

I bind her wrists in rope, a sacred sign,

Her trembling flesh obedient in my hand.

No gentle mercy tempers what I crave,

The sting, the strike, the power that I wield;

Yet love beneath the cruelty I gave,

Her shattered soul is where my heart is sealed.

In pain and pleasure, dark and raw combined,

I rule her body, yet her soul is mine.

© NILOY SHOUVIC ROY