Good Sub: Part I

B looked at the clock, the tiny multicolored brackets flashed with vigor, it was her alarm reminding her that Daddy would be home in thirty minutes. Her nipples wet, cold and hard peered from the clammy water. She dreaded getting out of the bath. She loved to soak in hot water seasoned with mint and lavender scented Epson salts- just as Daddy had taught her to do. He stressed the importance of self-care to B, “how can I expect you to take care of my needs if you don’t know how to take care of your own,” he insisted.

B couldn’t refute, it took a lot of hard work to please Daddy. Today alone she had already shined 4 pair of boots, cleaned his chaps and vests, untangled floggers, set up the play room:
1. candles lit,
2. Daddy’s toy chest unlocked.
3. lube
4. gloves
5. First Aid kit
6. water and snacks
7. music set at the appropriate level

She stepped out the tub and checked her cunt in the mirror and admired her recently trimmed pubic hairs; a fine layer. Not too fine nothing too, prepubescent for Daddy. He liked his little girls to look grown. She trimmed herself right over the trashcan her brown shavings flaked right on top of the white crumpled tissues, in plain sight for Daddy to see, just a little something for the pig in him. Twenty minutes and counting, B needed to hurry. Knowing Daddy, he had packed his brief case, grabbed his coat, walked out of his office, locked the door, jiggled it one, two, three times to make sure it was locked, wished his Program Assistant a good afternoon, grabbed his sunglasses out of his left breast pocket and skipped out of the office at five on the dot.

Her Daddy, so handsome so ritualistic she loved his discipline. Daddy’s rules, everywhere she turned. The bed always nice and tidy, slippers peaking out from under the bed, floors vacuumed every third day, boots never scuffed, his favorite cock along with his other “pieces” stored in the third drawer of his dresser. Always stored ribbed red condoms for his brown cock, the one he liked to fuck her with the most, and the underwear he bought her always crotch-less if she was going to wear any at all. B was rewarded, deeply, sinfully painfully every time she followed Daddy’s rules. Ssss fuck! Time was ticking and she was so wet from daydreaming, pussy throbbing she took a deep breath, trying to control her cunt’ s pounding. Cunt pounding! Cunt pounding! Cunt pounding. Seventeen minutes to get ready and counting! She exhaled, and read over her list of tasks, she had a few yet to complete.

Hating on Proposals

Dear Selection Committee,


You want me to tell you
why I deserve the money
what I’d do with the money?
How will I grow you, money?
I’m going to use your money
and make you look good.
Oh yeah, make you look
so fucken good.
Cause I’m good.
We good?
People gon’ say
“Damn, how did they know
she was good?”
And that just means you gooder
than me.
You’re GOOD.
You’re a mother FUCKING

genius
putting this genius on stage.
Yeah, I said genius….
who else does your institution
represent?

I need to puSh thiS Shit out!!!!!
Ssssss, but it hurts
brain like
impacted glands
have me dragging my ass around
Pinch!
Pinch that shit tight, squeeze
like a penny pincher.

Come now, give me that money.
Let me show you how loud I toot
toot, toot, toot-a-loot
a lot of praises
and raises of the bar
going up to it and ordering
falling in that order
and getting mine…
Bartender!
Me, Goaltender!
Tending my goals,
can’t have them dropping
like chickens in the heat.

Cause, see I’m from the hood
100%
from a working immigrant
to working like an immigrant.
Don’t you like to hear that?
How come we haven’t met?
I’ll have that money coming in
I’m talking gross
not net.
All this talk about money
gross.
Give me the money
and I’ll show you how it’s done.
1500 words?
What time is it?
Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit I’ve already won.

Before you know it,
you’ll have me
judging
3 or 4
your proposals.
You know it!
Asking me to do it again.
Great expectations
like a champion.
I’m a winner.
I’m a winner!
Enough with this word play.
Approve my proposal
I call it “Pay Day”!


Yours sincerely,

Remedios

Unas cuantas cucharadas
de miel
mezclado con jugo de limón.
Jarabe agridulce, lubrica
esa resequedad en
mi garganta.
Amargura silenciosa
que ahorca.
Me ahogo- tos
que raspa contra mis paredes
ecos del pasado
atrapados, pulsando
contra mis amígdalas.
Es infeccioso
como mantra
se me graba-
la mala maña
de tragarme
mis emociones,
que telaraña
que al fin se escapa
como calentura por mis poros
de mi ser enfermizo.

Remedio…
Embragada en un libro.
Caminar en la playa.
Unas nalgadas.
Unos besitos.
Espalda arañada.
¿Una palabra
ajustada contra la pagina,
como cura?
La palabra en mi diario
me ajusta, como un quiropráctico.
Me ajustan palabras
Siempre restan
para otro día.
Mañana- siempre llegare
a mañana mientras tenga
algo pendiente que expresar.
Escribo para no sentirme sola
Saber que no estoy sola.
En soledad
Intento tocar
tu pecho.
Vaporub caliente
Desencadenándote
Enredando te
Con mis enredos.
Around my finger
pero te recuerdo
y te quiero-
Dulce.


Te de manzanilla.
Te de yerba buena.
Te de canela.
Te de naranja, con canela y un hueso de aguacate
Hervido.

Sábila,
resbalosa
fuerte,
olorosa a sobaco.
Chocha sudada
olor atrapado en tus bellitos.
Sábila,
babosa, resbalosa, cascara dura
suave y brilloso tu interior
apacigua las punzadas que siento.

Apacíguate
Tomó te
Tómate
Un shot de tequila
cosquillitas en mi garganta
Lagrimitas acarician
Mi mejía
como decía
Que siempre compartir
alegría.
APOYO
me dijiste
“tienes talento…
eso ay que compartir”
Comparto contigo
comparto con migo
me despido
Pero no sin ruido.
Como chicharrón
Siempre haciendo ruido.

Ruinas
Arruinan
el momento.
Con presión
Momentum
fluye como sangre
Aja!
Ajo para alivianar la sangre
no traerla pesada
causa mucha presión.
Aguadas
siento las patas
calambres, me voy a cagar!
El culo tronando
Estomago revuelto
Empiezo a sudar!
Mi cabeza…
Vuela
papalote
suspiros
veo zopilotes
apesta a mortura
veo mi muerte.
Toalla caliente
arde contra mis ovarios
no me cague
ni vomite
me vine.
ay que remedio.