8:03

5 days before our first meeting. last year i used to write him every morning when i woke up, a ritual i began on my own. eventually, we started the wake-up calls. except on the weekends. so on those mornings i again wrote him in the morning. sometimes he gave me exact times. perhaps this was one of those days...
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Sunday 29 July 2007

trained.
so thoroughly trained.

far from her master,
kitten lay awake
lost in the future.
sunk in submission
and only half awake
she buried her cunt
in a caress of cotton,
the top sheet a kiss
across her proffered ass.
mythic fingers
slipped between buttock hills,
the tips attaining the
magic delta
into which flowed
torrents of honey.
memories of spankings to come,
of a leather assault,
of the cutting cane,
of hempen bonds that
held her fast, of
tears and cries and
unchained desire, force
her deeper into the bed.

finally, she frees her head
of longing, rolls over
and peers at the radio's
judgment. and in the end
is not surprised.
it is 8:03. time
to write
her master.
her lover.
her life

good morning, John.