Dreams

I dream of my collar.

The hand of my Sir, or Master, or Daddy, or any number of titles

but it is His.

He stands behind me and softly touches under my chin until I yield.

my head high and eyes lowered in a prayer

he puts His collar around my neck,

black leather stiff and sweet,

and locks it with a snap.

My back still in His chest,

His hand still pressing against my pulse, I know

that even when He is gone,

His hand is always around my throat.

The thought makes me so happy I want to cry,

and as I am overcome with the meaning

and the love and the trust

I wake.



Without my permission my fingers have wound themselves

between my legs where I am slick and wanting.

trust in my dream has turned to lust in my body

and my first conscious thought is of cumming.

Gasping and mewling I die and rise again, newborn

in His collar that is only my other hand.



I sleep again, but it is uneasy. This time I see myself

eyes lined, lips bloodred and luscious.

Instead of His collar, now there is

a thick ribbon of black velvet that hugs my throat.

I have become this creature, this vivid little devil.

I smirk at myself and wink, and this time when I wake

I am tasting my own juices, humming and incoherent.



I can't sleep now. My own cum intoxicates me

and lust unstoppable rises, a tide that carries me away.

One hand never leaves my throat, holds on tight to reality

as the other fucks fantasy deep into my cunt

until my mind is reeling and gravity is gone.

I lose track of cumming, or counting, or crying.

I know only need and exhaustion, the desperation for more

and also for the end.



The sun is blinking when desperation gives way to exhaustion.

I'm limp, shaking everywhere. My limbs are too heavy

for anything now but sleep,

or more fucking if only He were real.

For now, though, I sink into unavoidable sleep

Still, and maybe eternally

unsatisfied.