Good Girl

Kneeling, waiting for instructions,

Anticipating your carnal design,

Knowing I am safe and under your protection,

In my core, I feel the chords align.

You come to me gently, tenderly,

Silk threads blindfold,

Each stroke and tease, need rises eagerly,

You quiet me, I feel rope enfold,

Binding me, constraining me, all the while

Whispering, “Are you my Good Girl?”

I sense your pride, I feel your smile,

This, Sir, has become my world.

Take me into your arms,

Begin your magic, begin your play,

First touch of leather brings no alarms,

Tis my desire to please, show me your way.

Teach me, guide me, mark me as yours.

Push my boundaries with each strike,

Release my battles, my inner wars.

Tears flow, you’ve opened the dike.

Skin flushed, breathing harder,

Yearning, craving, begging for release,

Edging to the brink of disaster,

Please, Sir, bring me peace.

Sensing your fire, holding on longer,

Opening wider, building with intensity,

Feeling the rise of your hunger,

Lust’s rage shows its immensity.

It’s ache, its roar, its fury,

Moving together, thrust for thrust,

Orgasmic screams no longer buried,

Rising higher and higher, control I trust,

Riding the waves, let this begin.

Hearing your primal growl,

Feeling the release within,

Hold tight to me, my Sir,

Don’t let me fall,

My body reeling, mind in a blur,

For you, I give my all.

Breathing slowed, sweat mingling,

Your eyes put me in a swirl,

Trembling under your power, tingling,

Today, was I your Good Girl?

                                                     

~CWylde © 2015

With His Chains

Some say to be bound is oppressive,

But they don’t understand the submissive,

She is much stronger than seems,

She knows herself, her inner dreams.

She is independent, and a feminist

Believing her core, Sir her genesis.

Submission is a deserved gift,

To a Sir, ‘tis a treasured shift,

Not demanded, freely given, 

A give and take, her idea of heaven.

She has her demons needing released,

With his mark, Sir becomes her priest,

Through pain she finds her saving grace,

Through pleasure she finds her quiet space.

His bonds take her to the calmest sea,

With his chains, he sets her free.

CWylde © 02-03-15

Release the Demons

Silence, Dark, womblike,

Bound by leather at your will, as you like,

Skin exposed to your touch, your kiss,

At your mercy, Sir, nothing is amiss.

Hearing your footsteps as you approach,

Feeling your energy, your fire, your reproach,

Knowing the beast is controlled, full of power,

Craving your eyes to melt me in this hour.

Your lash hits first strike, sting fires my skin,

Release for the demons churning within,

I cry out, pain released in the tears 

As you soothe my spirit, taking my fears.

Ten lashes, I count, brings my penance,

My sins long ago needing repentance.

You, my Sir, have taken them, sent them away,

Taking me to a deep, dark healing this day.

Feeling your breath now close, soothing me

Urging me to take your essence inside me,

Listening to your soothing words gently spoken,

Feeling your gentle touch, this love is no token.

You, alone, have taken from me the urge to flea

Your sweet dark embrace, your will becomes of me.

This magic you wield over me complete,

This bond now forever, no more defeat.

CWylde © 01/04/15

(written in response to prompt #DepecheSex by @Supernaturavil)

This Man I Call Sir

Entering the darkened room thick with lust’s desire,

Dark eyes drawing me in setting my skin on fire.

I kneel to him, I have no will but his,

To hear his pleasure, feel his power is bliss.

I would follow him down to where he leads,

Trusting his guidance, his lash my prayer beads,

The sting of his mark, my supplication,

His commands, my fervent dedication

As he takes me to his land of release.

He could destroy me, yet he brings me peace.

He knows me so well, knows each quiver, each cry,

The edge is near, my ache for release raises me high,

“You’re getting closer, my Good Girl, but you must wait.”

“Please, Sir, I cannot!” imploring in my fevered state.

Pushing me farther with each touch, blood rushes,

Taking me now, passion brings brilliant skin blushes,

“Now, my Good Girl!” His voice commands, I follow,

Hearing his pleasure, his primal growl, ground so hallow,

Joined now, riding the waves of paradise together,

This man, this master, the one I proudly call Sir.

CWylde © 01/03/15

(written in response to poetry prompt #DsubVerse)

My Gift

Once Again

Perfect Symphony

The conductor knew her so well,
Knowing her rhthym and her inner tune.
She opened to the symphony of his design.
This was her longing,  her obsession.
In him, she found her perfect pitch.
In her, he found his strength.