Work Text:
“Kink space”
For years, I've heard about the space
Full of play, toys and wonders;
Stigmatised by the masses with no face,
Like a devil upon one's shoulders.
That did not tame my curiosity however,
As I'm passing by the lines of doors,
Each of them labelled different, so clever,
Explaining what each of them stores.
There were rules at the entrance,
Talk of consent and coloured lights;
A sign explaining the role of preference,
And note, that unless you want to, no one bites.
I heard crack of leather and cries of pain,
Followed by gentle words and care.
I passed some strangers, ready to explain
The works of it, and how to prepare.
I smiled at them and wished them luck
Mentioning that this is not my jam.
I might just look like a wandering duck,
But I already picked some doors to exam.