Thoughts

Slave: A Rochester Pilgrimage By Slave You There

Some men have lovers, other wives
to sweeten with fond care
their else-too-lonely loveless lives,
of both I've had my share

But sweetening is not enough
for him whose instincts crave
a woman made of sterner stuff
who'll order him, as slave

To strip, to kneel and naked crawl
upstairs for chastening
then, fetching from the dungeon wall,
her favourite plaything

Who wields it well aware that when
laid on with expertise
its strokes...the salve of slavish men...
his pinings will appease

The point's not just his body pained
those weals on thigh and back
but lost humility regained
mind's wheels re-set, on track

Such is my bent: I needs must kneel
once ev'ry month or so,
before her, feverish to feel
the sting and afterglow

Her brisk spell-weaving wand bestows
wih finely-chosen force
the accuracy of whose blows
my blurted thanks endorse

Wherefore my Pilgrim's way to Kent
I wend, does she permit,
returning, purged by punishment
the better man for it.

by slave You There