Sub & Dom
#2 of Erotic Poetry
More naughty poetry! Lately, I've been enamored with a poetic form known as Etheree. It struck me as the ideal form for a writing exercise I've wanted to try: composing a series of short poems all capable of standing on their own that, when read in sequence, form a kind of narrative for the reader to follow. The theme here, as you've probably already guessed, is submission and domination. Once again, critiques are welcome.
Sub I
He wakes below a familiar looming
shadow and attempts a drowsy stretch,
ears twitching as the leather's creak
reminds the skunk he is bound
down in a humble bow,
just as a servant
should be upon
his Master's
return
home.
Sub II
Canine musk overwhelms his every sense,
pulse racing in anticipation
as the body above his steps
forward to reveal moonlit
features wearing a fierce
grin. His fur clings to
flesh damp with sweat,
nerves crackling
like wild
fire.
Sub III
Pins and needles sting neglected limbs as
blood floods between bindings and the ring
marking him as property. A
gemstone collar around his
throat sparkles with jewels
and thirsty drool as
his brain craves the
flavor of
throbbing
cock.
Sub IV
He hears the bell chimes of chains clattering
against the body-warmed cement floor,
but his stare does not stray. His gaze,
like his life, belongs only
to his Master: striking
Tyrant, dark Savior,
Obsession of
his dreams, Thief
of his
heart.
Dom I
Freed
of all
modesty,
He sits upon
a throne of bone-dry
porcelain to receive
worship befitting a king,
warm saliva bathing His paws,
eyes regarding His form in silent
awe that speaks equally of love and fear.
Dom II
Kind
ruler
that He is,
desire drives Him
to bestow upon
His loyal slave a gift:
a feast of ruby spear tip
that swells with hungry impatience
as lips and tongue pay eager tribute
to the source of all pleasure in their world.
Dom III
Moist
lips and
fingertips
adoringly
caress suspended
orbs distended with His
most precious liquid treasure.
Longing whimpers reach His ears as
music, each note a wordless ode to
the grandeur of His power and control.
Dom IV
Fangs
shine in
the dim light,
thunder rising
from His lungs each time
a hot mouth envelopes
His girth. Rows of teeth gently
graze the engorged knot until at
last He roars and fires profuse geysers
of seed, claiming what is already His.