Sonnet: A Masochist

Riding crop to calves and thighs

illicits subtly glinting sighs;

through humbled nudity like ice

the short, sharp whips are small a price.

They buy your wanton relish cheap

whereas for you it's been a leap

of risky faith to let them keep

your shield in a discarded heap.

The lashes tingle in your flesh

and up your limbs into your brain

where the viciousness so fresh

and just the hint of searing pain

carve your mind a tasty gash

and have you step beyond the sane.