Morning Light

In the wee morning hours
a man emerges he's Sir
Before him his slave cowers
quiet as not to cause a stir
she's sexually devoured
Their play last night intense
He's a dynamo empowered
he pets her head no pretense
she clings to his leg sated
He lifts her to him in his arms
"My pet how I have waited
for you, strong no alarms, my
match in how hard we play"
There is no rhyme or reason why
fate takes a turn but today
there can be no other man
for her this Master has her heart
her devotion, love from the start
So when she utters the word Dom
she gives her all to him and from
this day forward to him she belongs