GETTING TO RAVEN

The tight ropes
The muffled screams
The agony of her pleasures
The cold steel
Her wants and needs
crying from raven

The needed pain
The begging pleas
The joy of her resistance
Patchouli leather
Now on her knees
coming from raven

The brutal lash
The hurt that cleans
The precipice of her climax
The running blood
The darkest means
all from raven

That special place
Forbidden dreams
Thrilling is her subjugation
The final cry
The ending scene
At last she whispers "i'm Your raven"

Raven

My Seduce

With look of eye,
With parted lips,
Pretense of shy,
And sway of hips,
You begin my seduce,
My passions set loose.
With sweet word.
With soft kiss,
Desire's spurred.
Seeking bliss.
You continue to seduce,
My fire you induce.
Hot skin sears,
Fingers seek.
Rapture nears,
Pleasures peak.
Now lost in your seduce,
I enter and incuse.
Unheard moans.
Souls aflame,
Final groans.
Climax claims.
My eyes do speak to you,
My love so very true,

It's just a piece of leather
That rests upon my neck
There are no jewels upon it
Nothing for which your eye to beck.

But to a submissive it has such meaning
That no Vanilla could hope to understand
To us it is the Alpha and the Omega
For it is placed upon us by our Masters hand.

Our vanilla sisters call us weak or foolish
To wear a sign of ownership so proud
But in the words of Master Shakespeare
"Me thinks they doth protest too loud"

For I once was as they are now
Ignorant of the joys they could not know
And as I kneel here at my Masters feet,
I realize that the first step to being raised above them, 'tis to kneel low.

To kneel before my Master
As doth the willow before the storm
To offer submission for His Dominance
This is no sickness, but 'tis the norm.

For what could be more natural
Than to accept for what my heart and soul doth crave
To kneel in pride before him and
say with pride to all the world
"He is my Master...i am His slave" .

'O my poor vanilla sisters
Who upon my head heap scorn,
Look deep inside your womanhood
And understand why for you I mourn.

I am a proud, yet humble submissive
I am what I was born to be
I do not rage against the feelings
within my heart and soul
I bow and accept them...instinctively.

It rather is you my sister who rages against what you are
Though you may deny it to your final breath.
But to refuse the dreams you have
in the dark of the night...
Is this not the most bitter of all forms of death?

And when you have those dreams in the dark of night
Tell me, of the "men" about whom you dream
Are they prim and proper and "politically correct"
Or do you dream of a somewhat darker scene?

Are those men strong and powerful?
Do they take and then smile
as you protest that you are cruel?
Do they use whip and flogger?
Cane, oar and crop?
To control and enforce their rule?

You know the answers deep down in your soul
Though the word on your lips are like dust
You know what the truth is
You have no excuses
My sister...tho are already one of us.

Cleaning the bathroom, I shine all the chrome,
Killing the germs, with my scrubbing bubbles foam.
No smudge or smear, can be left on the glass,
Just not acceptable, considered no class.

I step back to check the mirror from every angle,
And even up the towels, from the bars where they dangle.
The ceramic tile, reflects my round face,
Two bathrooms to go, must keep up the pace.

Fluffing the throw rugs, as I exit the room,
But have to go pee, so back in I zoom.
Now once again, I must fluff all the rugs,
The footprints I've left, have just got me bugged.

Finally, I may now depart, off to the next bathroom,
Where my detailing will start. I repeat these rituals,
Till all bathrooms are clean, but hurrying and hoping,
Some sun I might glean.

Dusting and polishing, every nook and cranny,
Hope this will take, some weight off my fanny.
Straighten the bedspread, pick lint off the rug,
Vacuum the bedroom, give the bedspread a tug,

No footprints left, as I back out the room,
But the bedspread still crooked, so back in I zoom.
To straighten the bedspread, and get it just right,
Much time has passed, but oh, what a sight!

Now I must vacuum, the room once again,
To make it just perfect, and neat as a pin.
From my room, to Emillee's, then Christopher's I go.
Repeating these rituals, and frustrated so.

But downstairs, there's still so much I must do,
Vacuuming, dusting and straightening too.
Then a phone call, from a dear friend,
Asking for time, with me to spend.

But of course, accepting an invite to lunch,
Would put my housecleaning rituals, in a time crunch.
So, "Not today", I must reply,
But sadly feeling, life's passing me by.

A slave to these rituals, day after day,
Someone, please help me, please, help me, I pray.
Aligning and ordering, to get things just right,
So everything's perfect, by the end of the night.

No lint balls or dust balls, anywhere to be found,
No specks on the carpet, no laundry around.
The floors have all, been washed and waxed,
Now energy's fading, my body's been taxed.

Cleaning frustratingly, on and on,
The clock keeps ticking, the sun almost gone.
And tomorrow I'll rise, and do it all again,
The battle keeps raging, but I'm determined to win.

In come the nanny, and kids from their day,
Home to the showroom, or museum, as they say.
Worried that they, might mess something up,
I watch every move, and follow behind like a pup.

The home and safe haven, I thought I had made,
Has now become prison, the foundation is laid.
Now undoing this structure, brick by brick,
Will take some work, and a little trick.

I call this OCD, problem I have,
"High Standards" and "Protector," they're my little tads.
My goal will be, to lovingly train,
These unruly children, that drive me insane.
I'll love them tenderly, but keep them in line,
And when they step out, I'll train them to mind!

TO BE FREE

After so many years spent constructing 
As strong a barrier as I could 
It is so very hard to dismantle it. 
I look around to see this shield 
I have built 
So carefully 
Over time. 
Here, a memory snaps back at me. 
Recollections of pain. 
Hours alone, longing. 
Hours together, suffering. 
Wanting so much 
But 
Not knowing what it was I needed. 
With each new hurt 
On 
Top 
Of 
An 
Old 
Hurt 
The 
Defense becomes stronger. 
I am 
Tough. 
I can take it. 
See? 
It does not even bother me anymore. 
But most important 
I can maybe save a little piece of me. 
So I work. 
As hard as I can, to build. 
O, I will still feel, but it will be dulled. 
Yes, my heart still beats. 
But you cannot hear it. 
It is swaddled too well and too far from you. 
I don't have much left of me and I need all I have. 
Because it is all I have. 
And once I have the safety there 
Once I know no one can get in 
I am at peace. 
I push away the thought that maybe now… 
Maybe now… 
I cannot get out. 
It does not matter 
For all that matters is 
I 
Am 
Safe. 
Alone. 
But safe. 
Unhappy. 
But safe. 
Aching… 
But safe. 
My shield is so very like me, no one can tell. 
I can smile and laugh and everyone thinks they know me. 
And I do ok. 
There is even one who sees inside, starts knocking around, stumbles inside. 
I am afraid. 
Did I leave a place uncovered, some weakness? 
But, then he is gone.  And I repair the damage done. 
And I am safe again. 
Proud I can protect myself. 
Because I must. 
Protect. 
Myself. 
But the protection becomes too close. 
The loneliness too profound. 
My secret soul hungers for warmth. 
For life. 
Well, I say, maybe we can try again. 
We are protected now. 
No one can get through ‘less we say so. 
But things are different. 
We want something different 
…my little soul and me. 
I think about it. 
I feel about it. 
The truth 
The revelation 
Is too much. 
So, we will hide a little while longer. 
Maybe 
This feeling will go away. 
Maybe 
It will pass. 
Maybe 
I can be like everyone else. 
Some try to push their way in. 
But I am too smart. 
I am too clever. 
They cannot get in. 
And I cannot get out. 
And deep inside I sleep. 
And 
Then 
There 
Is 
A 
Voice. 
Am I talking to myself? 
I hear everything I want to hear. 
My deepest thoughts echoed. 
Secrets I have long held are gently revealed 
And away melts the icy guilt that troubled me so long. 
And there is 
The Other. 
And far down deep inside my soul smiles with joy. 
But… 
There is always the catch. 
There is always the secret. 
There is still my protection 
Now grown tight and close. 
Dare I let go? 
No. 
It is too much to ask. 
I have worked so hard. 
I have lost too much. 
I will stay here 
And 
Be 
Safe. 
But… 
Now my heart is drawn. 
It is slow. 
I do not see it at first. 
I do not feel it at first. 
I can only measure it by looking back. 
And I look back. 
And there 
My suspicion 
Behind me. 
Dead and dying 
Useless 
And 
Old. 
I look behind me and 
There 
My shame 
Exposed in all its redundancy. 
I feel freer that I have felt 
In so long my soul cannot 
Remember the time. 
But o 
Too much. 
I want to hide. 
The calling the inexorable pulling 
I am compelled 
I need 
I must 
Listen and hear 
And I must 
Let go. 
The warmth 
The comfort 
The purity 
And intensity call me 
I can feel them… 
But. 
I am still trapped 
A hand 
Cold about my mind 
The whispers 
The aching 
The fear 
It is so strong 
It will not be denied 
I cannot seem to shake it off 
I am gripped from within. 
So I hide it. 
Can't appear weak. 
I have to be strong. 
What am I if not strong? 
And then 
The 
Other 
Reaches within me 
Whispering 
And touching 
Does He even know the Fear is left? 
I want to believe 
I want to embrace the warmth 
I want to be worthy. 
But all I have left of 
My little shelter 
My little comfort… 
Is my little fear. 
And I hold desperately. 
What happens after? 
How can I know? 
How will I survive with nowhere to hide? 
Questions questions 
Burning and hurting 
Doubts and longings 
Fed by the 
Fear. 
But He waits 
And I breathe. 
And we wait for Him. 
Inside me, we fight sometimes. 
And inside me, we hurt sometimes. 
And inside me the 
Fear still pushes and pulls. 
But… 
He is there. 
No obstacle for Him 
My armor 
My fear... 
Not dazzled by the show 
Not taken in by my slippery tricks 
He wants what is hidden 
The small little shy one 
Who for so long 
I struggled 
So hard 
To protect. 
And I resist. 
It is all I have left 
And I cry 
And I wait 
And I hope maybe the need to give 
Will go away. 
But growing stronger instead until I cannot resist 
And inside of my heart 
Something is broken 
And slips away 
And I look behind me 
And there is my 
Fear. 
It is not mine anymore. 
And now 
I 
Am all that is left. 
And He calls for me 
And he speaks to the me that will listen. 
And he cares for the me that is stubborn. 
And my soul is not mine anymore. 
It is for Him. 
He has seen it. 
And it is His. 
As I am His. 
And have ever been. 
And ever will be. 
He is my Protection. 
And my Shield. 
His joy is mine. 
And mine His. 
And as His slave 
I 
Now 
Am 
Free.

Raven.

                 MY EYES     

My eyes
licked your body
as you stood fully dressed 
in the spotlight of my dreams
visions so hauntingly real
my arms wishing reached out
from the shadow of the moon
to touch the warmth of Your smile
while Your body heat blazoned my thoughts.

You came to me in thought
striding to an erotic cadence
as i watched You on my knees
mouth watering
hungry for the taste of You lips
while sultry eyes licked your body
beckoning You to come
sit with me.
so I could feel
Your hungering breath
touch my lips
desirous tongues meeting to dance
inside the conclaves of our oral caverns
juices mixing...
stirring our glorious agonizing passion
annointed by Your kiss
I journeyed to retrieve the key
to my passion's gate
to trace the center of Your universe
while the hot winds of my orifice
blew upon Your terrain ...

i inhaled
continuing on my quest
downward
igniting flames along the way
You closing Your eyes
expressing moans of delight
as my tongue flickered like a serpent stalking its prey
creating a brilliant light in Your mind
that guided You
from the darkness of the world and its woes
to trap You within the confines of my suckling surge
until the waters of Your sea
rushed forth in rhythmic pulsations...
as my eyes
licked your body.

  WHO AM I                

She wanders the darkness of the night
Smiling softly as people pass by
She may not utter a single word
But her pressence will be felt

She is the chill that carresses weak spines
As they search vainly for places to hide
She seeks their weakness and their blood
Her hunger insatiable for a Master's touch

She is a slave of love and pain
Giving her pleasures to those ordained
Ordained to conquer and strength unbound
Her cries of passion a lingering sound

She wanders this earth alone right now
Listening carefully for a single sound
The word of a Master beckoning her near
Taking her places that He holds dear.

THE COLLAR


It's just a piece of leather
That rests upon my neck
There are no jewels upon it
Nothing for which your eye to beck.

But to a submissive it has such meaning
That no Vanilla could hope to understand
To us it is the Alpha and the Omega
For it is placed upon us by our Masters hand.

Our vanilla sisters call us weak or foolish
To wear a sign of ownership so proud
But in the words of Master Shakespeare

For I once was as they are now
Ignorant of the joys they could not know
And as I kneel here at my Masters feet,
I realize that the first step to being raised above them, 'tis to kneel low.

To kneel before my Master
As doth the willow before the storm
To offer submission for His Dominance
This is no sickness, but 'tis the norm.

For what could be more natural
Than to accept for what my heart and soul doth crave
To kneel in pride before him and
say with pride to all the world
"He is my Master...i am His slave" .

'O my poor vanilla sisters
Who upon my head heap scorn,
Look deep inside your womanhood
And understand why for you I mourn.

I am a proud, yet humble submissive
I am what I was born to be
I do not rage against the feelings
within my heart and soul
I bow and accept them...instinctively.

It rather is you my sister who rages against what you are
Though you may deny it to your final breath.
But to refuse the dreams you have
in the dark of the night...
Is this not the most bitter of all forms of death?

And when you have those dreams in the dark of night
Tell me, of the "men" about whom you dream
Are they prim and proper and "politically correct"
Or do you dream of a somewhat darker scene?

Are those men strong and powerful?
Do they take and then smile
as you protest that you are cruel?
Do they use whip and flogger?
Cane, oar and crop?
To control and enforce their rule?

You know the answers deep down in your soul
Though the word on your lips are like dust
You know what the truth is
You have no excuses
My sister...tho are already one of us.

Sweetness

a crystalline droplet
all wet and dewy
perched on the edge
of an oozing tip
a wetness from deep within
dark, warm, inviting,
a tight little slit
soft petals closed for so long
guarded a sweetness
meant only for One
silken folds open
to a greater warmth
the crystalline droplet
trickles off

See the path shimmering over there
Few would pass I know to dare,
For beyond the sight of that rocky crag
Stands a Knight who walks with the mad,
Tall and proud in his black armoured suit
With sword by his side and shield held on arm.

They say that his weapons he uses not
By his mind are travellers caught,
For truth and justice are held within
That black suit knows not of sin.
Honour and virtue are arms by his side,
With candor and devotion he claims the hides.

Unless your way is honest and right
Hold not that path within your sight,
For around that crag, just over there
Waits one for whom the Gods take care.
Should the pass hold where your journey begins...
Then for sure you will meet,
A black knight, who shines from within.

Written by Raven

 *Your flame is dancing *

I see well it's shadows of delight

Slowly and seductively

Images of anticipation in the night

It calls

Come now to me

Feel my energy

Your flame now crackles

It's heat blushes my thigh

Strong and forcefully

Like a long deliberate sigh

It calls

Submit now to me

Feel my power

Your flame now taunts me

As it drips onto my skin

Demonstrating it's skills

Punishment for my sin

It calls

Surrender now to me

Feel my control

Your flame now owns me

I dance at it's will

Great consequences have my dance

I move when I ought be still

I call

I surrender now to thee

Accept my submission

THE COLOUR OF SUBMISSION
 
The color of the day is golden fall sun
on bronzed-skin kissed
with ripples of dove cloud
flickering across my brow,
darkened with showers of memories
pinching a heart washed up on shore,

little precious silver bits
glinting among gray green strands
of decomposing hopes.

The color of submission is breathy peach
tinged with blush pink
listening with clear glass eyes
mirroring the outside world of your desires
and orders.

The color of submission is tiny white hairs
raising on goosebumped skin
alert to the slightest input.

The color of submission is pink tinge
flushed out by pulsing red scarlet
beating to thick velvet wine
thick as blood
surging through dilated arteries.

The color of submission is shards of hot fuschia
flashing with lightning hot white pain
cutting through the velvet wine,
doubling me over.

The color of submission is warm glow golden
washing over tired veins
going purple and black as I come down.

The color of submission is clear water
rinsing the world anew as I lie
calm after the storm.

The color of submission is viscous and slippery,
albumin creamy and pale
with prickly green thorns in my nerves on every side.

The color of submission is engorged pink red
like watermelon raw liver
sliding over itself
searching for caress.

The color of submission is gray plush and
black satin against my thighs and inner arms
as thick purple air inflates heavy breathing
in anticipation of more.
 

PAINFUL PLEASURE


I was dressed in a short black skirt, black hose and an emerald green silk blouse. I had braided my hair down my back. The braid came just below my shoulder blades. Shoes were never an option for me - always heels, the higher the better. Today I had on my black patent leather pumps, they had 4 inch heel. Even then I was only 5'8. Sir insisted on heels and no underwear, garters were allowed but no pantyhose. I always dressed for him, whether or not I was going to see him. He had a way of popping up in the most surprising places, if I wasn't ready there was hell to pay for me.

It had been a long day and I was pretty much done in. I pulled into the driveway, grabbed my purse and black blazer then headed for the house and a nice long shower. I opened the door and headed up the stairs. My heart skipped a beat when I saw him sitting there. He rose as soon as I got to the top stair. He walked to me and immediately strapped on a red ball gag. I knew I was in trouble then. Hopefully it would be fun trouble.

He grabbed my hand and pulled/dragged me to the middle of the livingroom, then he put his large hand around the back of my neck and pushed down. Within seconds I was in a kowtow, hands on either side of him and my forehead just inches away from his feet. He had yet to say a word.

At this point I knew better than to try and say anything. I saw his feet move and I kept very very still, not knowing what was in store for me next. I could hear him walk around me, he stopped behind me. My ass was high in the air (just the way he liked it). I knew my black lace nylons were exposed to him as were the garter straps and most important my ass and pussy were well displayed for his viewing pleasure. I felt something cool tickle the underside of my thigh and I let out the smallest groan - more of a rush of air, as it traced up to my pussy.

That groan brought a wicked swat on my ass with what suspiciously felt like his favourite toy - his riding crop. The sting of the keeper easily penetrating the thin material of my skirt. He began again to trace my thighs. This time I kept quiet. The crop moved lightly up and down the under side of my thighs, it was torture for me not to move or make a sound, it tickled so much. Every once in a while he would press the crop against my pussy, very firmly, then pull it up through the crack in my ass. I felt him push the hem of my skit up with the crop. My ass was now bare. That action aroused me to the point that I could no longer contain my excitement and I moaned in pleasure. I paid.

The crop came down hard on my ass and I cried out through the gag. That brought more pain and more cries from me. After the tenth stroke he stopped. I breathed heavy trying to rise above the pain that now burned my ass. I heard the crop fall to the floor. Sir was still silent. I felt something pulling on the hem of my skirt and then a loud rip. He had torn the skirt up the slit right to the waistband! My heart was pounding, he had never been that violent with me before. I whimpered quietly.

Next I felt my braid being pulled and I was yarded to my feet. As I scrambled to catch my balance I was careful to spread my legs so that he had good access to any body parts he cared to play with. He had trained me well and my feet spread and my hands went immediately behind my back. He was standing behind me, I knew the crop was on the floor I could see the handle out of the corner of my eye. I wondered what he was going to do next. I stood still and silent.

I then felt a cold piece of steel brush the top of my hand, it was a tease. The waistband of my skirt was pulled tight and with a short crisp rip, my skirt was on the floor. I gasped. A knife. He had a knife in his hand! That was the cold steel that had touched me and he just cut my skirt off. I began to tremble. In fear or thrill, I was not sure, but had my legs been together my knees would have been knocking against each other.

He walked in front of me and showed me the 5 inch switchblade he had. I had never seen it before. Sir had a very evil look in his eye as he slowly lowered the blade. I followed it with my eyes to the first fastened button on my blouse, the one between my breasts. Flick. The button flew across the room and I moaned. The first sound Sir had made since I got home was a very quiet sinister chuckle. One by one the buttons flew across the room as the sharp blade sliced the threads holding them to the flimsy green silk. By now my chest was heaving, my heart was pounding hard and I was emitting tiny mewls as each button was cut. Sir made no sound.

He ran the blade from my throat to my bra and stopped there. The tip of the blade toyed with the lace in my cleavage. It sliced the tiny little holes woven through my black lace bra, then in a quick and confident twist of his wrist Sir whipped the blade through the band in the bra and it was cut open. That pulled from me the loudest reaction yet. I was vibrating, my knees felt like jelly, juice was dripping from my pussy and I had to fight to keep my eyes open, my mind was spinning. I wondered how far he would go.

As Sir walked around behind me I was furiously undoing the buttons on the cuff of my blouse, I expected it to be taken from me and I was right. I felt his warm hand on the base of my neck then blouse was ripped off my back, the bra followed. I must have pleased him by undoing the buttons because he leaned his mouth to my ear and whispered in a harsh raspy voice "good girl". I felt a slight ease of the fear until he pulled sharply down on my braid and my head snapped back. With my head back and my hands behind me my breasts jutted out, nipples harder than I ever remember them being and they heaved up and down as I gasped in surprise.

My hair was being pulled backward and I had no choice but to follow. I was lead backwards to the pony wall that made one side of the staircase. Sir turned me to one side and i heard a jingling in his pocket. Out came a pair of alligator nipple clamps. He roughly grabbed one of my tits and fixed the clamp to a nipple then he pushed me so I faced the end of the pony wall. He took the chain and threaded it through one of the spindles that filled the space from the wall to the ceiling and affixed the other clamp to my other nipple. I was now chained to the wall, my back to him. He stood behind me and took my hands, he reached them around and placed them above the chain on the spindle. I was moaning a little through the gag by then, the clamps hurt and I still didn't know what he wanted. I didn't really care either. I was so turned on by his rough treatment, the mystery, the domineering way he was treating me, I was a bundle of nerves.

Sir pulled my hips back, I took a step backward, then another. My tits were stretched out from the wall and were terribly painful, I whimpered. With my legs apart and bent at the waist I was very off balance. I was not as bent forward as he preferred because the nipple clamps and my breasts only allowed for a finite amount of movement. I hung onto the spindle to keep me as still as possible to help take some of the pressure off my aching nipples. I was making desperate noises through the gag as I felt Sir leave me. I saw him walk to the middle of the room and pick up the crop. Oh God no! Slowly he walked back towards me, tapping the end of the crop in his hand as he did. I whimpered loudly as I knew what was coming. He stopped within my view and with slow deliberateness he pulled off his shirt, never letting go of the crop. His shoes came next and then his pants. As he undid the button on his pants and slid down the zipper, his cock sprang from it's hold and protruded straight out from his pants. His member was swollen and I could imagine it pulsing, eager to get to me. My breathing became more ragged.

From where he was standing the crop easily reached me. He tapped it gently on my back and then my buttocks and he positioned himself behind me again. I braced myself for what was to come just as the sharp crack of the crop landed on my ass. I jumped, screamed at the pain and then again as my tits were cruelly pulled by my movement. This continued for ten swats on each cheek. I was in agony. My ass burned my nipples throbbed. I had a vice like grip on the spindle to try and keep still but it only helped a bit. With each swat Sir was rewarded with two jolts of pain, the crop and the clamps. I was crying but I stood my ground and took his painful gift.

The crop was thrown to the ground again. Sirs large rough hand was suddenly gripping my pussy, a finger sliding around my pussy, another gently poking at the opening of my vagina. Oh the abrupt change in feeling - from agony to ecstasy in a second. I moaned softly as I absorbed his tender touch, I wasn't being pulled or pushed, just gently stroked the way I liked. I could feel the sexual tension build quickly in my groin. He had me so hot I would be orgasmic with in minutes of those huge hands playing with my sex.

He poked and prodded me and I grunted and moaned to communicate my pleasure. He played and teased my clit, which had become extremely sensitive. He teased at my vagina but didn't penetrate, he would push just a little then run the finger to my ass where he would again push but not penetrate. I was floating, but eagerly awaiting his entry into my hot juicy pussy. That was when he finally began to speak.

Sir started in a quiet voice, with a gentle tone. He asked if I was feeling better, was I his slut, did this feel good did that feel good. I moaned and whimpered in reply to him. His voice got louder and my arousal got stronger. He pulled his hands away and I yelled in protest.

"Shut up whore. You will get what I let you have." His voice took on a warning tone.

I moaned in response trying to tell him I understood.

Suddenly his cock was filling my pussy, in fast hard thrusts that were pitching me forward and backward. Again my tits were being yanked from the pole and the clamps. I began to scream through the gag, at the pain and the rushes of pleasure that swept through me every time he thrust inside. He began yelling then. Calling me names like whore, pain slut, his pussy, his slave bitch. I was reeling. His words only intensified my pleasure but my tits were on fire as I held desperately onto the spindle. Hoping he would be done soon and wishing it would never end. At anytime I could have stopped by letting go and undoing the clamps. The thought never entered my mind. I wanted him to enjoy me to the fullest, I had to accept his gift of pain, and with it I would get an explosion of pleasure. I was getting to that point fast. I couldn't ask to cum but he must have known I was close because he stopped, pulled my head back and said "Don't you dare cum you whore, you cum when I say and not a second before."

Sir released my hair and plunged himself into my ass right at that moment. If I had not been gagged they would have heard me scream down the block, as his rock hard, hot throbbing cock slammed into my ass. I had pain and pleasure again and it was impossible to tell which was the strongest. Sir was calling me names I had never heard him use as he pounded himself into me. My ass was assaulted by his missile, which was soon to leave its payload in my rectum. By now I had lost all sense of time and space. I was so focused on surviving the searing pain in my tits and the rushes of pleasure that had found their way to my raped ass. I was almost out of control and was begging to cum, not that there was any way for Sir to tell because I had long ago stopped being silent and every move he made prodded me to one kind of yell or moan. I begged him not to stop with all of my body. I wanted to be his in every way His whore his slut His everything that he could ever imagine me to be, and I was.

Then I heard the magic words. The words I had been waiting to hear.

"Cum you assfucked slut cum."

That was all I needed and I called in sheer euphoria and a viciously strong orgasm raged through my body. Then with a loud grunt Sir rammed me like he had never rammed me before, his arms wrapped around my waist and I was whipped away from the spindle. The clamps tore away from my already burning tits and jolt of white-hot pain shot though my whole body. I was paralyzed. Then my clit was rubbed hard and a good helping of Sir's hand was thrust into my pussy, and I came and he came. His arms like steel strapping surrounded me, impaled on his cock, my body spasming in pain and in pleasure. My ass gripping his cock, I don't think he could have pulled out of me even if he tried.

He was growling and rumbling at me, I was crying, in pure pleasure and pain. Something I had been waiting for, the animal in Him. I couldn't move and was relying on him totally to keep me upright. The pleasure slowly eased as his pumping slowed. The pain - though still bad became bearable and my muscles began to relax, my knees buckled and I slumped forward, my hands reaching for my throbbing tits, gently holding the melons of my breasts and carefully avoiding the nipples. I sobbed and pressed against Sir.

He lowered us both to the floor, being gentle and tender to me as he eased himself out of my ass. He put his hands over mine, massaging me, but letting my hands guide him so that he didn't touch me where it would hurt. I turned to my side rested my head on his chest, gasping for air, trying to bring myself down. He crooned in my ear. "What a good good girl you are baby. I'm so proud of you, my own little whore, you are a very good girl." Those words sent thrills through me again but in a gentle and comforting way. I was happy and content at that moment. I was exactly were I wanted to be and feeling exactly the way I wanted to feel. I drifted, absorbing the warmth of being enveloped in the arms of such a strong man. He unbuckled the gag and removed it, then kissed me a deep soul-stirring kiss. I shuddered.

"How are you baby?" He asked.

I could only look into his steel blue eyes and smile softly. I was not ready to speak.

"I guess I should take you shopping after we eat, you're going to need to replace those clothes." He smiled at me as I giggled at his comment.

I didn't care about the clothes, I didn't care about dinner, my planned shower. Nothing. I would have been happy to stay in the exact spot we were in forever. He held me until I came back to earth.

"Thank you Sir." I whispered.

Malleable
 

I imagine myself

As liquid gold

Flowing under your fingers

So easy to mould

I imagine myself

As an elastic band

Being stretched to my limits

At your Masterful hands

I imagine myself

As a lifelike doll

Easy to influence

Lead and control

I imagine myself

As a spinning top

Turning this way and that

Until directed to stop

I imagine myself

As modelling clay

A shape-changing toy

In the games that we play

I imagine myself

As a rubber ball

Curling up at your feet

Feeling humble and small

 
Raven Child

Suspended before you
flesh laid bare to your sight
my body open to your touch
limpid pools of smouldering lust
rendered blind by your design
flesh tingling
feeling you near
hearing your breathing
sensing your desires
our hearts beating in time

the warmth of your fingers tracing my spine
trembling with need
a whispered plea
"please Master"

body straining against it’s bonds
reaching
searching
aching
craving
giving
taking
flames of desire raging higher

an erotic journey has begun
travel to a dream realm
fantasy becomes reality
reality fades from view
a pasture of decadent pleasures

mind closing down
reasoning gone
agonizing anticipation
a whistle filling my ears
a crop slicing the air
body swaying to meet it’s caress
leather bites tender flesh
raising welts with each kiss
leaving burning patches behind

two hearts beating as one
crop dancing in time
building a bonfire of need
flames raging hotter and hotter
searing my mind with animalistic desires
"yes! Master!" my mind cries
with each sharp bite
needs raging beyond my control
freeing my soul
to fly on wings of passion
through clouds of sweet pain

conscious thought lost
left floating through the raging sea of lust
free of my own body
ears deaf to my own cries
soaring ever higher

my entire being focused on you
as I dine upon forbidden fruit of lust
feeling you devouring my flesh

seeing nothing
save you

hearing nothing
save your voice

knowing nothing
save sweet pain that is your pleasure

wanting nothing
save satisfying you

screams torn from my throat
music to even my ears
lost as I am
surrounded only by you
my heart beating solely for you

darkness closes in
I know nothing
but this peace within

 Why Do I Love You? 
 
 I love you,
Not only for what you are,
But for what I am
When I am with you.

I love you
Not only for what
You have made of yourself,
But for what
You are making of me.

I love you
For ignoring the possibilities
Of the fool in me
And for laying firm hold
Of the possibilities for good.

Why do I love you?

I love you
For closing your eyes
To the discords-
And for adding to the music in me
By worshipful listening.

I love you because you
Are helping me to make
Of the lumber of my life
Not a tavern
But a temple;
And out of the words
Of my every day
Not a reproach
But a song.

I love you
Because you have done
More than any creed
To make me happy.

You have done it
Without a word,
Without a touch,
Without a sign.
You have done it
Just by being yourself.

After all
Perhaps that is what
Love means.