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So..you want to be my furniture.

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You want to become an object for me

Undress yourself and become nothing.

Nameless, still, and subservient.

Become my furniture.

Wait at the door for my arrival home.

Let me scrape my soles against your back
And be the doormat under my feet.

Try to hold back your whimpers when I take you, by the hair, to the kitchen where you are lashed tightly to my tap.

You know just what to do.

Dance that jig you do when you've drunk three pints and need permission to visit the loo.

And when you are finished.

Wallow in that messy pool. Dank.

You are diminished.

Clean up and fix my beverage just the way I like it-
While you stand there, naked, bare, and silent.
Seen, but not heard.

I take my place in front of the t.v to relax after a long day.

Offer me my drink with open palms, eyes to the floor in complete. submission.

Do as you always do, pet, and fall to your knees.
Bend over and fix your posture.
Let your whole body become a flat surface- a table for me to rest my drink and prop up my tired feet.

I wonder how much you can take-
Will you eventually fail?
Or will I pull you up by your arm, and reward you for your service-
Service to the one that OWNS you?

Get on your knees, and we’ll soon find out.

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