Mo Cumhacht

I serve, I kneel; my cunt, it aches.

You mold, you guide; my heart, it quakes.

With every breath, I acquiesce

all that I am; you know me best.

You give yourself and help me give more

as I lay prostrate, Sir’s treasured whore.

All the thoughts dissolve; the lies, they cease.

In the shelter of you, I find peace.

You use and bruise me and dole out this sweet pain.

I find my center in the strength you contain.

I treasure this gift that you choose to bestow.

As you bind me tighter and help me to grow.

I thank you and hope what I gift in return

provides the same comfort you’ve helped me learn.