You think you know me, but you haven't got a clue.

You don't know what I do, when it's dark, and cold, and I'm feeling lonely.

I don't give a fuck how many people you slept with.

Or how fucking messy your fucking bed is.

I don't want to see the empty vodka bottles, fag packets, condoms...

I would like to smash your fucking head in,
but I can't
because
you are my daughter.

The smell of leather.
Chink of metal as the straps get tighter,
fixed and firm around your naked frame.

As tight as they will go until you gasp and ask that they go no further.
It is time.