Queen of my Skin

Hi There, The following piece am sure, will invoke differing reactions. So I won't say much about it, other than we are all made uniquely and I wrote it this morning. 

Queen of my Skin

The room is dim, but all can be seen. 

As I slowly disrobe and wait for my Queen.

I’m now vulnerably naked, but my skin is warm.

Just as my liege wants, as she plays with her pawn. 

When she enters her thrown room, my bodies alive.

As I flash her a glance, with my excited eyes. 

My Queen is a beauty, outside and within. 

And I sigh with pleasure as my monarch begins. 

Her orders and actions are divinely commanding.

My body reacts and erect is now standing. 

So I wait there head bowed as she barks and instructs.

As she glides up towards me, I long for her touch.

But my written rules are clear and spoken quite free. 

I must not touch my Queen, or she cannot punish me.

My session continues and I relish the welts.

With the marks that she leaves, as she wields her red belt. 

Flails of the bull whip across my bare flesh.

The knots leave blue bruises, as I feel it’s caress. 

The pain now exciting, as I bite back my cries. 

As my sovereign so perfect, my body defiles. 

I will look back with awe at the marks on my skin.

And the recall my Queens face and her sexual grin. 

By Helen Stallard
February 21  2014