Mistress Hyde

Dr. Jekyll had a notion
Concoct a brew, and drink the potion
And once the cocktail was inside
He would transform: Mr. Hyde!
Id and ego—uncombined
Thus one alone would rule the mind

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A man disrobes and humbly drops,
   Prostrate on his hands and knees;
His Mistress holds her riding crops,
   Ready to hear mercy pleas!
His naked buttocks lifted, poised:
   As if to show implied consent...
Should she extract a groaning noise,
   When he deserves no punishment?
And when he whimpers, skin-turned-red,
   Should she go harder? Or relent?
Should she show mercy? Or instead
   Laugh at his predicament?

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A girl is taught, "Now, you be nice!
Remember, you are sugar, spice;
If there's a friend in deep duress,
Soothe him with your pleasantness,
And if your soul is caught between
Mercy, meanness—run from mean!"

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
But when they told her, "Don't be fresh!"
   They would not let her preview him!
This naked man with yielding flesh
   Complying with her every whim...
Each muffled cry, each "Mistress, please!"
   Each glimpse of reddened haunches bent,
Each time she pushes boundaries,
   And sees his broken spirit spent,
It pushes her to push him more!
   And revel in his musky scent—
She strives to gain a tear-stained floor,
   And wonders where her temperance went

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Where is her femininity
When she shows such severity?
Her makeup: is it all things nice?
Yet ginger root is, too, a spice!
And bay leaves add a bitter touch
That chefs desire very much...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
And so, with time, she grows more thrilled
   To put him in sadistic binds,
To watch him, writhing, unfulfilled,
   While pent-up semen wrecks his mind...
Elated, playing with her toy
   Becoming ever decadent:
Transform the man to sobbing boy!
   Until he crumples, broken, spent...
Will some remorse be felt tonight?
   No, not a twinge! She won't repent...
Her smiling eyes betray delight
   When she drifts off to sleep, content

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Her breathing quick, her cheeks grown flush,
She relishes the power rush
Until there is no turning back
From leather boots, or bras of black:
Sweet dominance has been imbibed—
No angel Jekyll... Mistress Hyde!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
And id or ego, which is fed?
   When he endures her painful trial?
Her self-esteem, her lust in bed
   Both grow as she inflicts denial!
It is intoxicating drink
   To sting his flesh so groans must vent;
To watch his skin turn reddish pink
   And help him be less reticent!
Some tenderness when she begins
   (That angel Jekyll pleads, "Relent!")
But somehow Mistress mostly wins
   And lust becomes predominant.