Love Poem: My Supple Whip
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Written by: Amy Green

My Supple Whip

Supple, limber perfect leather
Graceful in it’s agility when I
wield it by hand. 
Supple are the contusions upon 
your back as I teach you
to tease my attack-

When I train you, bull whip in hand.
Supple is your insolence- soon it shall
No longer exist, 
after my punishment.
Darling I love you so supply and intimate.