And I pray to god for all the poor
Yet when the sun descends, and I go to bed
Thoughts of impurity spread right through my head.
My habit of black and white, I wear and
With cross in hand I say my prayers
But at night when I undress
My eyes close and my hands caress.
I clasp my cross tight to my chest
I whisper words that I know will test
And then I whimper and my emotions flow
When my hand touches flesh and nipples grow.
My eyes stare at the man, on the cross, on my wall
I hope he forgives me for what will befall
My hand snakes down between my thighs
As I pleasure myself and muffle my cries.
My fingers slide and my body pounds
I try so hard to stop the sounds
My mind has decided that I have only one goal
And I need it so bad for my filthy soul.
I push and I slip my fingers inside
And eventually I feel it rise
My left hand loosens around the cross
As I tweak my nipple, I know God has lost.
I climb onto the bed, face down
I cannot watch the man, on the cross, that is bound
I know that he is watching me
But my orgasm is all that I can see.
And yet my feelings of want are queer
And becoming worse than I myself do fear
My need is for someone with whip or cane
To administer punishment…am I insane.
I rest on all fours without a care
And I raise my arm in the air
I want to feel a hand on me
Smarting red and so hot to the feel.
My hand comes down and I do the deed
But it’s not the intensity I crave or need
And I weep and cry, I feel such loss
And turning I once again grab at my cross.
I pray to God to help me please
I love him so much and yet I need
Him, her, anyone, to feel my plight
And help me be spanked all through the night.
