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My Sister

My Sister

It's just a piece of leather
That rests upon my neck
There are no jewels upon it
Nothing for which your eye to beck

But to a submissive it has such meaning
That no Vanilla could hope to understand
To us it is the Alpha, the Omega
It is placed upon us by our Master's hand

Our vanilla sisters call us weak and foolish
To wear a sign of ownership so proud
But in the words of Master Shakespeare
"Me thinks they do protest too loud"

For I once was as they are now
Ignorant of the joys they could not know
And as I kneel here at my Masters feet,
I realize to be raised above them, is to kneel low

To kneel before my Master
As doth the willow before the storm
To offer submission for His Dominance
This is no sickness, but 'tis the norm

For what could be more natural
Than to accept what my heart and soul do crave
To kneel in pride before him and say to all the world
"He is my Master... I am His slave"

'O my poor vanilla sisters
Who upon my head heap scorn
Look deep inside your womanhood
And understand why for you I mourn

I am a proud, yet humble submissive
I am what I was born to be
I do not rage against the feelings within my heart
I bow and accept them... instinctively

It is you my sister who rages against what you are
Though you may deny it to your final breath
But to refuse the dreams you have in the dark of the night...
Is this not the defination of death

And when you have those dreams when the night gets to long
Tell me, of the "men" about whom you dream
Are they prim and proper and "politically correct"
Or do you dream of a darker scene

Are those men strong and powerful
Do they take as you protest that they are cruel
Do they use whip and flogger
Cane, oar and crop
To control and enforce their rule

You know the answers deep down in your soul
Though the words on your lips are like dust
You know what the truth is
My sister... you are already one of us

Copyright 2000 SirWolfr1
All Rights Reserved

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