Sacrilege 2 - The Altar

Why lie next to the altar when you can
just drape yourself across the fine dark cloth?
And tug your skirt right up; I will not ban
the loss of panties too; because my wrath
needs expiation on your naked flanks,
that I will cane, then clutch, as I enjoy
your agonies and , yes, the whispered thanks
as I thrust in so deep into my toy,
that she may sigh a prayer and beg for more,
being a greedy slut who cannot care
where she is used, the filthy bitch, the whore,
who serves my needs and knows she will not dare
to disobey and, thus, disrobes as told
so each vindictive strike can really serve
our appetites until she is quite sold
on her surrender; and I on every curve
I've marked religiously I will not falter
when punishing a pet upon the altar.

A pet comments:

My body lies on cloth blacker than my dreams, draped over fragile folds where limbs move in silent acceptance of my master. Each curve an answer; each tremble a need. With nimble fingers I drag soft cloth downwards, the disgrace of their dampness there before your eyes. The movement uncovers the shame, such degradation that you pour upon me causing my thighs to open, my legs to spread.

Through the wild sear of each lash, your cane buries into my skin. Like your cock the welts dig deep. The clutch of your hands thrust as they hold. I descend into pleasure, into compliance finding there only my master: thus finding all, serving all, thanking all.