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