leah06
10-13-2008, 07:14 PM
The hand upon the whip is sure and kind
And has caressed this weak and trembling flesh,
Just as your voice has soothed my troubled mind.
The hart at hunt soon finds herself enmeshed
In silken cords that tighten till they bind,
And panting, haunches gleaming, waits the knife:
So are my flesh and spirit now aligned.
Renouncing former flight and useless strife,
In silent genuflection wait the kiss
Of supple leather or of gentle lip.
Which dreading more – the whisper or the hiss,
Enslaving touch, or stinging of the whip?
Victim and priestess, my own to rend apart,
But yours to take as offered, my beating heart.
And has caressed this weak and trembling flesh,
Just as your voice has soothed my troubled mind.
The hart at hunt soon finds herself enmeshed
In silken cords that tighten till they bind,
And panting, haunches gleaming, waits the knife:
So are my flesh and spirit now aligned.
Renouncing former flight and useless strife,
In silent genuflection wait the kiss
Of supple leather or of gentle lip.
Which dreading more – the whisper or the hiss,
Enslaving touch, or stinging of the whip?
Victim and priestess, my own to rend apart,
But yours to take as offered, my beating heart.