Submission Poem by T J Morgan

She kneels before Him...awaiting His signal
eyes lowered, as still as stone, senses alert.
Not a flinch as his whip plays upon her bared nipples,
sighing inside as pleasure builds.
He raises His eyebrow and she stands gracefully.
offering her wrists, like the proverbial lamb.
His binding, like an art-form, caresses her skin,
coils around her breasts and opens her to Him.
Taking His time, savouring and languidly
almost lazily, He traces her curves with a feather touch.
Watching like a hawk, He is inside her mind now,
knowing, judging the perfect tempo, the strokes begin.
Flesh reddening....weals flaring.....arousal heightening
till she reaches her limit, He knows before she does.
He traces the angry marks, ice cold water soothes,
her eyes smile up at Him, complete trust in her gaze.
He bends to kiss, marking her with His tongue
tasting her enjoyment, watching her quiver.
Drawing her out, pushing her boundaries,
He pauses, then, takes his prize
melting into her, as she finally yields
and cries out. Her Master has come home.