There's something about being
Pushed up against a wall
Your back flat up against it
Staring straight into eyes that see through you
Swallowing hard
Waiting for your heart to start beating again

There's something about
Being made to crawl across the floor
To a seated Man, staring into your eyes
Not letting you not look at Him
Not letting you stumble
Drawing you to Him without a word
Trembling, a whimper caught in your throat

There's something about
Being pulled up by your hair
Feeling that hand slink up your neck
Into your tresses, close to the scalp
Grabbing, gripping it , guttural sounds emitting from His lips
The pain not nearly as strong as the urge
To cry or bite a hole through your bottom lip

There's something about
Being bitten
Especially on the back of the neck or breast
Feeling His teeth so close to piercing you
Wondering, as you cry out, if He will, this time
Wondering, if you're going to bleed for your
Submission

There's something about
Being bent over the back of a chair, without warning
Without pretense, without question
Having your pants dropped, cool air hitting hot skin
Your cheeks blushing, with the same color of your backside
As He warms it with the striking of the palm of His hand
The tears you cry not cooling you
The tears you cry because He has found you

There's something about
Being slapped across the face
Not backhanded, but smacked to bring about
A change in behavior
A change in attitude
To make that lovely wail come from deep in your chest
You long to make it, as He longs to hear it

There's something about
Those words He uses
Those names He calls you
Those phrases meant to elicit a response
And you do respond
All of you responds
And your body betrays you, always

There's something about
Being thrown down and taken
Not against your will
For your will is to be there
To please, to submit, to offer, to relinquish
And you cry out for breath, for more, for Him
And you know you are home

There's something about
Being drug in the shower
Forced to your knees
Hissed at for silence
Growled at to be still
And awaiting the flow
That you know
Marks You as HIS

There's something about
Kneeling quietly beside Him
Your body bruised, reddened, coated, tired
Your mind silent, for once ~ for a time
Your head bowed, your eyes closed
Your lips quivering as His fingers touch you
Your submission, unquestioned
Your Peace at Hand