The Master's voice

demon

I hear the Masters voice,
soft as velvet,
warm as sunshine,
seductive.

It calls to me from the ether,
reaching with fingers
through the twilight
of my dreams.

And there are nights
when I feel myself giving way,
swayed by the words,
smooth as river rock.

The thought of fingers
claiming me for their own,
bringing pleasure 
with them.

Touching me deeply,
full and firm,
sliding over my skin,
inside me.

But, the Master can't
unless I submit - he is prevented
by a voice drowns him, 
that makes him quake.

The rich, iron voice of the Mistress
who holds sway and I long for,
cutting him like a blade,
"She is claimed already, she is mine."

© Emma Steel