The Gift

by f-cynyr ©


I was incomplete,
I drifted and wallowed
in the empty
encounters in bleak
collisions of the thud
and smack of floggers and
paddles.
I was lost in the
hollow domination of
empty submissions, of fleeting
slaves and other impostors of
leather.

There was only boredom,
a listless time as my
eyes and hands and whips
sought more than
bare, blank backs,
of bare, blank faces.

There was despair in
my encounters,
nothing but fools and fakes
and weekend bottoms,
seeking only my
cuffs and ropes, and knots,
desiring only my flogging, and
spanking and binding.

My arm grew heavy,
my ropes grew slack,
I questioned the worth
of my mastery,
I questioned the value
of my dominance.

I was empty of the gift
that completes,
I was empty of the offering
that was beyond the asking.
I was lacking that true submissive
that would render all of her own accord.

But you, in your submission,
bowed and surrendered.
You, in your submission,
knelt and crawled
and gave to me your
very essence.

You came to me
kneeling not from
training
or punishment
or ancient house rules.

You came to me
freely bound,
bound and tied,
not by my will
or disciplining hand,
not by signed contract
or negotiation
or ritual,
not by discipline
nor the cruel strikes
of brutal training.

You came to me,
not reduced by pain
nor diminished by humiliation
nor cowered by sadism.

You came to me
and knelt and bowed
freely, willingly, lovingly.
You came to me
and rendered unto me
the gift beyond asking,
the treasure beyond taking.

You gave to me
the golden core of your
being that fulfills you in
the giving and
completes me in the accepting.