A Ship Without Her Rudder

A ship without her rudder,
Without her compass,
Losing her North, lost, floating without direction.
She's strong and can weather
The storm, without a doubt,
But she'll remain lost,
No way to find her home.
So a sub without her Dom.
She's strong, but without her
Rudder, her compass, her North,
Her way home is lost at sea.
Hear this lesson well, my friend,
If you choose a Dom to be,
Be there, guide your sub,
Be her rudder, her compass, her North,
She gave you her submission,
She trusted your pledge to
Protect and care for her.
Protect her from the tempest
Threatening to crash her
To the dark shores of confusion.
Help her always find her way home.

~CWylde © 2016

Tables Turned

Innocence has no place in her heart and mind,
Her only purpose is to capture his soul
And make him take her to his dark sin.
The earlier the better, not after midnight, her patience grows thin.

She haunts his mind with her temptress smile,
She’s the Mistress of the art of seduction.
He, only a scapegoat, a pawn in her enticing game,
Tonight the wicked rendezvous will build his flame.

She waits in the shadows of her Sorceress lair,
Black silk caressing curves, hugging her secret wetness.
Candlelight gleams as he enters the door,
She turns with a low animal growl as she kneels to the floor.

His stops at the shadowy entrance, gazes over her body,
She holds her breath waiting for his claim.
She does not know his intent is to tame her
Her game gives way to his ultimate power.

She offers herself to his altar of sin,
He smirks as he watches her bravado crumble.
He stalks her as a predator stalks his prey,
His stride is certain, he’ll take her this day.

She becomes his in one single touch,
His growl in her ear releases her resolve.
Her skin burns like fire with passion’s yearning,
She begs him to master her, from which there’s no returning.

He is her Dominant, she his submissive,
There’s no turning back to reclaim the Mistress.
Her submission is his treasure, her deepest gift
To a man who will love her, protect her, to new heights he’ll lift.

He asks if it's worth this release of her power,
Can she become what he deeply desires?
Her only answer begs him to make his claim,
After all, she says, I’ll never be young again.

~CWylde © 2016

The High

He enters striding with confidence,

Knowing she can’t see his blind seduction.

She knows it’s time to push his limits,

His jaw sets in controlled detonation.

In one terrifying moment, regret hits her mind, 

She realizes she’s awakened the beast 

From his raving slumber.

His patience she’s pushed,

Tis her bad habit he’s seen.

His eyes say it all without a word,

His soul of fire rages within.

His commands low and deliberate,

She cannot resist his deep dark sin.

Waiting for the first strike,

He taunts, but nothing happens.

She glances begging for his leather,

Her racing heart quickens,

The strike hits hard in a fountain of flames,

She steels herself against the pain.

Not many could withstand the fire felt so strong,

But she is impervious to its bite and sting.

Tis a peaked perfection to her carnal desires,

She feels alive as her passions build higher.

Tears flowing, she knows she’s branded

With his mark, his touch, no longer stranded

In the pit of her own private hell,

He’s carried her through the molten well.

One touch, you’ll see how the interplay works,

Tis the exchange of power, the unwavering thirst

For strength and control, tis her desires

That feed the fuel of his own lustful fires.

A stepping stone was reached in their bond.

An agreement made, a contract signed 

In the marks on her body and the gleam in his eye.

No pride could he steal, no shame in her mind

For this is the power, the bond, the high.

~CWylde © 2015

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

In Sir Believe

Through the eyes of the soul,

She sees her greatest challenge.

Relinquishing complete control,

Maintaining her balance.

In the man she calls Sir,

She sees her greatest treasure,

When he smiles and rewards

Her gift to him, his pleasure.

But is it a double-edged sword?

If he sees all her flaws,

He may falter and leave,

Or worse, he could turn away just because.

All she can is in Sir believe.

~CWylde ©

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

Purge Me

How can I tell from where my demons come?

How can I tell what makes them run?

I do not know what opens their door,

Nor how their taunts collapse me to the floor.

I know only that they are very real,

And come to me with no appeal.

I’ve been judged from when I was a girl,

By those who believed theirs a better world.

I feel so deeply, and yes, I bleed. 

I have lived through one single creed.

To protect those downtrodden,

But who will protect me, relieve my burden.

This is the curse of being a submissive,

Without her Sir, life is aversive.

She needs his control, the mark on her skin,

Without it, there is no purge for her sin.

Come, bring the ropes, the belt,

Leave your mark, leave your welt.

Cleanse me, purge me,

Love me, I’m on my knees.

CWylde © 01-25-15

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)

Dreams of Sir

Dreams take me to you tonight. 
The ocean current traverses through time.
My heart spreads wings and take flight
You are my beacon, my light sublime.

Knowing that you are my essence,
Our time together is witness
To our bonds, our love's presence,
I cannot deny the limits of your patience.

You need only speak the words,
You need only grant your touch.
My heart soars with the birds
Singing their songs, stories, as such.

I kneel at your feet and give to you,
This gift of submission, complete trust,
Let the current take me to you,
Let me give in to your lust.

I will carry your name to the skies
One phrase, one act, one single inner stir,
You will see the exchange, the look in my eyes,
I'm yours, Sir!

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.

Come to Me, My Love

The Fire We Make by Alicia Keys

He calls me to his side,

"Come to me, my Love!"

And I answer.

He touches me with his words,

He touches me with his spirit,

He touches me with his eyes.

He raises the fire inside to a burning inferno

That will not be quenched by any other.

He moves toward me in the dark,

The fire burning from his eyes

Saying that there is no other - this spark,

Right here, right now, no more lies.

He reaches for my hands,

Takes them in his and pulls me in.

I feel his hardness - his commands,

His lust for me – my treasures - my sin.

I open to him as he undresses me

Slowly, touching my skin,

Fruit of the poisonous tree

And I am ignited - his win.

He holds me to him effortlessly

Building a raging sea,

Bodies pressed together,

Mouth on mouth - our chablis.

He tenderly lays me on his bed,

Taking in my body,

Leaving his desires unsaid,

My resolve is becoming rocky.

Devouring me with his eyes

Calculating this wonder of me.

My body knows no disguise

But to know this was meant to be.

Open, wet, longing for him

To enter me with his being

His lust taking me to the rim

My juices flowing - my own lust screaming.

 

Joining together as the fever rises,

We are making fire together.

We are each other's vices,

He takes my lace - gives me his leather

I have searched a lifetime,

Here he stands, here he is!

He is my lifeline, my now time. 

I submit to him - I am his.

I will not fail again,

I will not allow anything but

My heart to speak - to reign.

No door will shut.

He calls me to his side,

"Come to me, my Love!"

And I answer.