Those oh-so-jealous eyes

Kiss her, Sir.  Kiss her very slowly.
Kiss her on the base of her neck.
Breathe in her perfume and her heat
As you keep her and me guessing.
She knows that you are in charge.
She knows that you have command.
She wants you to have command
And to be utterly in your charge.

And yet, she does not know how you
will use it or use her.  Use her. Use her,
Sir, while I watch and my feelings are
Whipped up into a frenzy of envy,
Trying so very hard not to be jealous.
Her purity hangs in tatters as you spin her
On her axis, so that she is turned towards
My jealous eyes: those oh-so-jealous eyes.

And in the blush of her torn virginity,
Let my Master’s gain and her tearing
Reflect my torn desires for it helps me
in my search for pain while others seek
Pleasure; let me feel comfort in discomfort,
So both get muddled and merge into
Desire: desire for my master and desire
For you to kiss her, sir, very, very slowly.