Surrender

A little ash, a painted rose, a name:
You'll forget these beneath the binding sky;
I want to make you suffer for the shame
Of being such a whore you can't deny
Your master's satisfaction as you serve
And mould yourself so fashionably, he'd wish
You'd offer him sweet delight as you curve
To punishment and the delightful swish
Of cane or martinet or just the palm
That marks your flesh and makes you his again
And restores you to a quiet state of calm:
This means you'll love to lick where master came;
Whatever place he chooses; you will wash
His cum from names and roses and the ash.