Musings of devotion: Spandwiser 29/10/06

I do enjoy poetry. Especially ones written with me in mind.

This is an older poem written for me by a menial which I have not heard from in quite a few years. Nevertheless, I bumped into it while looking through old files and decided to share.

“Come”
She smiled.
And her eyes were smoldering coals –
“you think you know of life,
of all it’s pleasured pathways
and many unplumbed depths?”
And the leather of her body
laughed it’s ebony mockery in the starlight
“Come –
and LIVE –
in a world where pain and pleasure rule,
whose music is the wild lash song,
repose: the rack’s embrace.”
And she stroked me, red lips gleaming,
leather of her fingers soft upon my flesh
“Come –
where I am all your dreams”
Pleasuress, tyrant queen.
And she took the leash and whip
and drew me thither.

Spandwiser – 29th October 2006

Musings of devotion.

Every once in a while a menial surprises me by showing a flair of devotion above what I have come to expect as standard. It is extremely rare but it does happen. Such flair often comes in the form of a well thought out gift of an item which I particularly want or enjoy: Black roses with blood red tips (extremely rare, often only available when grown to order as they are artificially produced. However, they are a favourite of mine), Djarum special cigarettes (usually only available from tobacco specialist retailers) or an item from my wishlist (the items marked as “priority” obviously being the more appreciated).
Last year in October a menial surprised me by showing his devotion in the form of poetry:

Usher in the era of Her rule
Mistress Aemillia Hawk
High handed nobility
Clothed in Sabbath black
That on carpet of flesh walks
And daily receives those dues
Nature gifts to the powerful
She saddles spirits
And minds subdues
Spurs to grim perdition
Those that swallow the potion
Of Her Beauty
And love Her more
When with heel She scores
The monogram of lust
On shining souls
And addict makes of
Sinks of degradation
Where She leads
The free in bondage follow
Slaves to Her high handed whim
And in ranks that train Her car
Hobbled by erections
We are proud to be named Her slaves
And crawl to kiss the velvet glove
And ring that seals Her wish
and i among the throng
Sing of Her dark splendour
And long to kiss the hurts
That flower where She wanders
And will endure long the collar
The cabaret of passion
Where She ring-masters
And conducts the splendid sufferings.

Servingboi – 4th October 2011

Simple proof that one does not need an excessive amount of cash in order to please.