Divinity

She likes the feeling of his hand
Applied with each slight transgression
She gets down on knees, his pleasure
And sucks mewling her confession

He then ordains to enter her
Soon driving deep between taut thighs
She consents to call him "Sir"
And avoid the romantic lies

But she moans love, every thrust
His being this year's chosen god
He insists upon her total trust
Or her ass reddened by the rod

She agrees to let him have his way
With her god exhibiting his strength
When she once more kneels down to pray
And then consumes his divine length.