The Dark Dominatrix Supreme;
Who all men must obey;
To merely glimpse her makes them dream
To be her slave one day.
Those men who meet her can’t refuse
To follow her commands;
Lusting to please, they gladly choose
To suffer at her hands.
The Underworld is her domain
Where she sits on the throne.
The rod she wields is called pain,
A gift to those she owns.
Here on the night of Halloween
This poet’s bound to call her Queen.
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Aristotle, thank you for submitting your poem to our team’s challenge series! I’ll be including it with the others, which I assume the rest of the team is finally about to turn in.
I do enjoy your poem—it captures power well. But I can’t help wondering: what exactly did duckie tell you about my Halloween costume that inspired this? While it’s a lovely tribute, I think you’re only brushing the surface. Perhaps a sonnet is in order, delving deeper into the sadistic punishments this “Queen” might have in store for her misbehaving and overreacting sub this Halloween night? There’s far more darkness to explore. I’m certain duckie would agree!