Confessions to my Mistress

With eyes wide I see you, sweet girl of my dreams:
As you balance superbly in elegant heels.
Your smile filled with joy and your eyes filled with fire:
Commanding, demanding of love and desire.
Fragrantly feminine, kissably clean
from toe-tip to hair-grip, and all in between!

Your cool, sidelong glance draws my gaze to your face
But the thing I love most is your long-legged grace,
and the way that you’re lit with such confident pride,
with a luminous glow that shines out from inside.
Most of all, it’s your spirit that sets you apart
That sets chains on my soul and a fire in my heart.

Clever and playful, with a girl's artful charms,
and a strong independence that's soft in my arms
if you will. For your will is important to me
as I honour and serve you: your chattel I'd be
in your boudoir at least. Outside, your respect
as almost your equal is what I expect!

I'm more than a typical, delicate male
who can't stand correction. So if I should fail
to pleasure or please you in word or in deed
I'll take what instruction you judge that I need
to improve. I implore you, be honest in this:
Don't fear for my ego, but help me please Miss!

If your nature is cruel then I’ll gladly submit
to whatever correction you judge to be fit --
Like the kiss of your whip, though I’d beg to know why:
Is it deep, dark arousal you feel when I cry?
Or a glance of command I was too blind to see?
Or your sweet way of saying you care about me?

My obedient nature has no need of chains
But I'll wear them with pride if they're part of your claims.
May I plead for your collar? This symbol I need
to confirm I'm your chattel. Uncollared, I'm freed
to a limbo of nakedness, cold and forlorn.
Secured by your collar, I’m naked yet warm.

Stronger than collars to make mind follow heart:
A steel ring that tethers man’s vulnerable parts,
My essence is captured and held in your reach;
No choice but to follow so cruel a leash.
Held tightly and firmly, exposed to your grasp
A punishing squeeze and an agonised gasp!

With hands bound behind me, I’m freed from their use
and must simply accept all your loving abuse.
So if you command me to serve in some way
It’s my lips and my tongue I must use to obey:
Must I take off your knickers? Or fetch you your shoes?
With my mouth made a plaything, to keep you amused?

Please, grant me your essence, to love and adore,
Your sweet, fragrant secrets, to taste and explore,
Your breasts to be worshipped, your feet to be kissed:
In an intimate journey, no single part missed.
Caressing your body and touching your mind,
‘Til bodies, and spirits, and souls are entwined.

May I taste your sweet rosebud, desire of my heart?
May my tongue tease its delicate petals apart?
May I drink the sweet nectar that flows from within?
And sip honeyed dew from your soft fragrant skin?
If I’m ill-trained or clumsy, then please let me know:
False praise and spared feelings are pleasure’s worst foe!

I yearn to be naked while you remain dressed,
To be leashed at your side as I humbly request
permission to honour your feet, and ascend
with lingering worship, to seek at the end 
with endless deep kisses your female delight
from the falling of dark to the morning's first light.

My hoped-for reward is the soft fleeting touch
Of your hands, or your feet, that would thrill me so much,
Or the crueller stroke of your soul-searching whip
That would teach me the faults of my tongue and my lips.
If I gave satisfaction, will I share in your bed?
Or am I sent out from your chamber, instead?

Though I plead for permission to kiss you and taste
your deeply held secrets, with impatient haste,
Please feel no compulsion to quench this hot thirst.
But consider what else you might want from me first.
Fresh tea? Time alone? Hours massaging your feet?
To your slave, each demand you make’s equally sweet.

Will you give me the honour of bearing your brand?
Seared by hot iron at your delicate hand?
Or do you command that I bear your tattoo?
Your property, marked as belonging to you?
Or perhaps you will pierce me to show I'm your slave?
May I carry these gifts through my life to my grave?

If my service should please you, then please let it show:
Such gentle praise warms me and helps me to grow.
But please, don’t say I’m perfect - I am not - and I ask:
If I am, keep it secret! Please invent some small task
that can’t be fulfilled, or was failed in your eyes,
It keeps me submissive when you criticise!

A slave who’s aroused is a slave who obeys:
Will you keep me in chastity, day after day?
Forbidden to touch and forbidden to spill;
The longer denied then the stronger your will.
And then, should you quench me, or grant me release,
I’m yours again, instantly, eager to please.

I scarcely dare hope that you'll value my seed,
but if you desire it, I’m honoured indeed!
And if you should choose that I serve in that way
My body is yours: I won't spill 'til you say.
If spilling’s unwelcome, I’ll leave when you're through:
though I long for fulfillment, I'll not defy you.

If you love me, I beg you, don't shout it too loud;
I'll serve you the best if you're playfully proud.
Love seldom and quietly: don't make me too sure
of myself, so I'll strive to be worthy of more!
That said, if I'm sure of your love deep inside,
then your quiet regard for me fills me with pride.

I hope that my rhyming will give you some clues,
In putting this body and mind to good use.
These words are my wishes, but not my demands:
I long to obey, not to issue commands!
My intention in stating my needs and desires,
Is to offer the keys that unlock all your powers.


(c) 2007 Han Li Thorn
www.hanlithorn.com
