Tiny Green Spears

Tiny green spears are so easily crushed
When I am pushed down to dark earth to dream;
It's chill winter, but master is not rushed
In stripping slaves and taking them; demean
Myself: I will lift my haunches and expose
The softer parts - they're his and he might wish
Despite the snow,  to have them; forget clothes
That obstruct his desires; a cane should swish
Its marks across my bare rump; I'll cry out
And crave attention above garden plants;
Let him press in and since his cock is stout,
I must spread wide to entertain his lance,
Wherever he may choose - in cunt or rear -
So I am crushed against my owner's spear...