They say it takes a hundred strokes
To make hair really shine,
Mistress, it’s fortunate I’m here,
Who finds this task divine.

You have no need to dress yourself
I am here to assist.
One must possess more than mere wealth
To be waited on like this.

Mistress, your power has transformed
This man into a maid.
Forced me to change my gender norm
Turned me into your slave.

You tell me I was once a man,
But now your maid is all I am.

I wonder can I be a friend,
With one whose will has mine replaced?
I guess the answer will depend,
On just what best will suit your taste.

So I will wait until I’m told
Just what it is I am to be.
Possession? Friend? Neither? Two-fold?
I know that it’s not up to me.

It is a complicated thing
I find I have embarked upon,
Where collar substitutes for ring,
And old conventions now are gone.

I guess I will just have to wait,
Until you tell me what’s my fate.

“Bootlicker” is a term most find
To be one of degradation.
But it’s a word I do not mind,
My favorite occupation.

Because you like your boot to shine
And know that it shines best with spit.
You generously give me time
To lick it clean while you wear it.

You know this is a special treat
And one which I don’t often get.
To lick your shoes while on your feet,
Not all alone in your closet.

As I deep throat your boot’s spiked heel,
I can’t express the joy I feel.

To be an artist with the whip
Your daily practice must not slack,
And so your target does not slip
I am spreadeagled on your rack.

I am not here at your command,
I begged to be allowed to serve.
I asked to suffer at your hand,
You give me more than I deserve.

I cannot help myself but cry
At my first taste of your whip’s kiss,
Hearing you laugh reminds me why
It was that I asked you for this.

I’m pained to learn I find it joy
To serve you as your whipping boy.

There’s a walled garden that I know
Hidden behind a flowered door.
To enter one must first bend low
And kneel down upon the floor.

It opens only to a kiss,
Petals unfurling to make room.
My tongue and lips were made for this,
To swirl across its pearly bloom.

Mistress your garden’s my delight.
I swear to water it with care.
It outshines Eden in my sight,
I pray you let me enter there.

There ‘tween your thighs I’ll pleasure you
Until your sighs tell me I’m through.