Make it spark, sweetheart.

And I sat there, guilty as charged,
I suppose.

Said the Big Man with the muscles:
“An idea, I propose”.

“Strap her to the wooden seat,
the one that splinters”

“Strap her on well and tight,
’til her wrists hurt

and bleed, maybe!”
(I knew he’d want blood).

Said the headless chickens,

“Yes sir’ee, tres bien!”

They grabbed my arms
They grabbed my legs

They grabbed my hips.

And strapped me on.

My feet were clamped,
and my wrists too.

A hum of electricity was smelt in the room.

The shackles were metal: duller than life,
(and ribbed for my pleasure).

They’d shock me once,
they’d shock me twice,
the room would turn red,

Or a dirty pink with a soil stain,
my body should writhe and dance in pain.

They think I’ll tell.
They would be wrong.

They think I know something

Truth is, I know no thing.
Except for one thing.

I’ll feel every jolt and every twang, you handsome fuck.

You think that, behind these supple breasts, lies a weak heart. Well think again.

And make it spark, sweetheart.


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2 thoughts on “Make it spark, sweetheart.

  1. I thought I was in for some gore but I liked how the post went!
    Ps. Since I didn’t know where else to ask, have you caught wind of the IT reviews after its press release recently? Seems like the clown made an impression and it’s there to stay I believe!


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