I feel the sharp blade run and tingle along
my skin as it slides over nipple and breast,
as I feel it singing a bloodthirsty song,
but I know that depends on my strength in this test.
And I cannot see, for my eyes are forced closed,
by leather of which I can smell it’s strong scent,
and I feel the fear form it’s heavy sharp dose,
just as the one who is testing me meant.

The blade then caresses so softly my thigh,
and runs its dark trail over skin that contracts,
yet I must keep still now, and not even sigh,
nor show any fear and no muscle should flex.
A harsh testing this is, a testing of trust,
of power of will of both sides that exchange
their will and their power and maybe their lust,
but respect is the strongest, and that feels so strange.

The sunlight reflects off the silvery knife,
the blade of a polished and finely honed steel,
I know it could easily cost me my life,
with right on my throat the sharp danger I feel.
My skin tingles wildly, I know that I still,
trace the sharp knife near my skin, even though
it does not even touch, but the force of my will,
makes me aware of each energy flow.

And each test he asks me if I’d like to stop,
but I persevere, and too stubborn to fail
sit still and unmoving, and drop by salt drop,
my sweat runs of fear down my breast’s flowing vale.
But he looks impressed, then surprised, then aghast,
as in him respect grows, and caring for me.
Mutual respect, for I know at the last,
his task has been harder than mine was to be.