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 and the Omega
For it is placed upon us by our Masters hand.
Our vanilla sisters call us weak or foolish
To wear a sign of ownership so proud
But in the words of Master Shakespeare
"Me thinks they doth 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 that the first step to being raised above them, 'tis 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 for what my heart and soul doth crave
To kneel in pride before him and
say with pride 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 and soul
I bow and accept them...instinctively.
It rather 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 most bitter of all forms of death?
And when you have those dreams in the dark of night
Tell me, of the "men" about whom you dream
Are they prim and proper and "politically correct"
Or do you dream of a somewhat darker scene?
Are those men strong and powerful?
Do they take and then smile
as you protest that you 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 word on your lips are like dust
You know what the truth is
You have no excuses
My sister...thou are already one of us.
