To provide some brief context, a D/s-ish dynamic in one of my relationships had once led me to partake in daily edging–that is, masturbation ending with a denial of orgasm. This poem (based on Henley’s Invictus, in case the title wasn’t enough of a giveaway) was written then in a moment of particular despair and vaginal indignance.
Upon the brink of perverse glee,
I still my swiftly frigging limb,
And thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable quim.
In the fell clutch of cruel denial
Though I now wince and cry aloud,
It’s but a temporary trial
From which my crotch might emerge proud.
There looms the orgasmless waste
Of my masturbatory ban!
Shedding frustration and distaste
I face my ordeal, clit in hand.
It matters not if I am bound
From fully pleasuring my front,
I am the master of my mound:
I am the captain of my cunt.