Whispers taut in darkness flutter
Spoken with lips that should not utter
A strike! And silently tears are shed
But he did not hit you until you bled

Tied down and bound, you struggle in place
Not daring once to show him your face
Ecstacy coats your inner pressed thighs
As another strike falls to coax out your cries

Another. Another! A name is called out
And the striking cane ceases and your turned about
'Now Master rewards you for being so good
And allows you to please him like a little slave should.'

Thus is seduction truly allowed to take place
A strike of the cane and slap on the face
Submission and privilages granted to you
Controlled by an art that is possessed by so few

Penned by my hand on the 11th of Fas, in the year 468 AD.