She is curiosity wrapped in soft skin,
that waits for Daddy to swallow her whole.
Mouth made for him,
eyes that beg and obey in the same glance.

Her throat—sweet poison—
curls around him, pulls him in,
makes him hungry to hear her break
into gasps, into pleas,
into that trembling silence
when she can’t form words anymore.

She teases with lips that taste of trouble,
tongue sharp with sass,
but when Daddy’s hands close around her,
she softens, she yields—
and she knows she belongs here.
Bruises bloom where his kisses land,
her skin telling the story
of every claim Daddy made.

She is his canvas,
painted in reds and purples,
in marks that remind her
she is his long after he is done.