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Good Boy

A poem about taking control of a man.
Slowly
I comb my fingers through your beard
Watch your eyes flutter
Before I tug you closer by the fur
Your breath shudders
The demeanor of your face melting
 shifting
Into a submissive state
I promise to be gentle
You are beautifully afraid
These hands will not cause too much pain
My good Boy is following commands
Getting on hands and knees on the bed
Surrendering to the pleasures that scare you
Things you dread
 until I begin
Then you moan beneath me
Relinquishing all control
You’re a good slave
Doing what you’re told
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