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To My Kneelng Ones


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They come to me,
whispers aching in their throat,
bare hearts offered
like wrists to silk rope.
I am the hush before thunder,
the calm that chooses to crack the sky.

I don’t bark. I beckon.
With a curl of a finger, they kneel.
My leash is not just leather,
it’s devotion wound tight,
wrapped in permission
to unravel, slow and deliberate.

I am velvet and venom.
The gentle domme,
who knows how to hurt just right.
Every flick of the wrist,
every command,
scented with care
but never mercy.

I feast on them,
tongue tracing secrets
they didn’t know they carried.
My mouth, an altar.
My tongue, a hymn.
And their bodies,
sacred scripture I rewrite nightly.

I peg them open,
their gasps carved into the dark.
I break them sweetly,
fill them fully,
until there’s nothing left but my name
in the hollow of their spine.

In my hands, they shatter like glass
and beg to be pieced together again.
I kiss their cracks,
fuck their shadows,
pull their truths on a leash
and teach them
that surrender
is the most exquisite freedom.
I wish you was near Pensacola fl I’d be anything you want me to be
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