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2003-04-18

A Poem for a slave

Leather and chains hold My slave to the bed.

Wrists pulled to respective corners at the headboard,

Ankles secured at opposing sides,

a prisoner on soft sheets.

A thick metal chain pulls his neck by the collar,

down to the foot of this open cage.

He has no choice but to sit, stretched,

as droplets travel fast down a well-placed tube.

Blindfolded, exposed, I leave him there.

I go away. I come back to appreciate,

and disappear quietly, again and again.

He jumps just a bit if I laugh, and I do.

His mind is flooded with the reality of his predicament.

He belongs to Me, in this darkness and discomfort.

In his suffering, in his longing, in his humiliation,

only one thought remains - my Mistress.

Oh, how I love my Mistress.

-Barbarella

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A Poem for a slave 2003-04-18 9:44 a.m. Leather and chains hold My slave to the bed.

Wrists pulled to respective corners at the headboard,

Ankles secured at opposing sides,

a prisoner on soft sheets.

A thick metal chain pulls his neck by the collar,

down to the foot of this open cage.

He has no choice but to sit, stretched,

as droplets travel fast down a well-placed tube.

Blindfolded, exposed, I leave him there.

I go away. I come back to appreciate,

and disappear quietly, again and again.

He jumps just a bit if I laugh, and I do.

His mind is flooded with the reality of his predicament.

He belongs to Me, in this darkness and discomfort.

In his suffering, in his longing, in his humiliation,

only one thought remains - my Mistress.

Oh, how I love my Mistress.