tagNon-Erotic PoetryMaster of the house

Master of the house


As the Master of the House entered the room
He saw what was not there
Her clothes, her books, her private things...
Even the walls were bare.

No submissive greeting did call to him,
No lowered eyes or bended knee
No offered breasts or upturned ass
Those things he never again would see

The one thing his eye did fall upon
Had been left there for him to find
An envelope and folded note
That had been left behind.

He opened up the letter there
To read what he knew it would say
And looked once more upon her tiny hand written words
In the light of the ending day.

When we first met there in that chat room
Your words were honey sweet
They flowed into my heart and soul
Like a freezing child who has been given heat.

You learned all there was to know about me
While I knew nothing of you
You brushed off my questions,
called them unseemly and crass
And implied that I was rude.

And soon did I fall under your spell
As potent as any a wizard could weave
I turned my back upon career, family and friends
All of them I did leave.

To come and kneel before you
To serve you as your slave.
To answer the dark voices so deep within my soul
To seek out the Life that I did crave.

For you did I suffer the torments of the Damned
And often more than that as well
To be worthy of the collar you had placed upon my neck
But, you have not proven to be worth this sort of hell.

You have tormented me with cane and oar
For your amusement did I suffer the paddle, the flogger
and crop
But where once I found honor in serving you
I now know that this must stop.

Last night was the final straw
As my pleas for mercy fell upon deaf ears
I saw you rejoice at the sight of my battered and
bleeding flesh
And drank deeply of my tears

I shall no longer live this way,
You who call yourself a Lord
My journey continues alone this day
This dark river shall I forge.

The Master opened the envelope
And found within the collar. He knew he would.
With tight clenched fists and bright red eyes
Long in the empty room he stood.

Then with a sigh he turned to leave
And unto his computer go
A new screen name...a new profile
And then he chuckled low
He felt in his heart no great loss
There were many more on line
Lonely, begging, needing subs
He knew quite well their kind.

And once again the hunt was on,
That all begins on line.
The sweet flowing words, the velvet touch
Bind later the body, but first, the mind.

To use them well then use them up
And then to cast them in his wake
He knew the collar would soon be filled
As he logged on, and leaned back to wait.

He waits there still, even now, on line
The innocent IM cast forth as bait
To find his victim and lure her in
Unto a honeyed, bitter fate

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