At the Asylum for the Hypnotically Insane

She always matched
the physical to the mental
and let them reinforce each other
to become elemental
and irresistable.
The blindfold was rewarded
with a caress of words
so that trance grew deeper.
Each restraint applied
had a matching trigger phrase
so that together they comprised
an increase beyond measure
in the sense of helplessness.
Her most erotic dominant kiss
was followed by a cruel gag,
both hypnotic and real,
before repetition upon repetition
of command upon command
took the mind away.
Beyond that I cannot say.
I am not well.
Do you think
She will visit me
today?

-(c) 2007, william the submissive poet

Brave New World

(artwork by Walter Girotto)

She made a universe and She locked me in it.
She drugged me with slow ecstasy
and left me, trance flowing through my veins,
memory no longer sequential,
every sense amplified to distortion.
The wind was Her breath on my skin,
the sound of the stream worked its way
through my intentions and changed them to Hers.
The sun was Her unbearable passion
and the night contained Her dark designs.
I was alone in paradise to be enjoyed
for the torment I endured without Her.
There had been surgery. Consensus reality
was removed and Her world transplanted
into me. Even my emotions were tuned
and Her music played erotically upon them.
Thoughts not my own move in my mind
as through a thick vacant consistency.
I love Her so much, but what else
is She going to do with me?

- (c) 2007, william the submissive poet

A Birthday Poem

The hypnosis worked its way in,
She had Her way with him.
The foreplay was finished
and only Her choices remained.
His eyes reflected Her words,
his body responded to Her commands,
his will was a covenant
to be rewritten according to Her demands.

As She considered, tasting Her exquisite
and vintage dry red wine
with a breath like heaven
in a glass of finest crystal clear
and an intoxication devine,
he spoke to Her and startled She listened.

"Dear Mistress, today is a special day.
'tis the day of your birth and that glory
that makes my every breath worthwhile.
I have no gift for You other than myself.
I have neither wealth nor castle to offer,
and so I have risen from the depths of trance
to open myself to You without reservation,
without fear, indeed with joy, to accept
and embrace anything that You would do
to me that might please You. I return to
trance. Please, please, use me to enhance
Your pleasure this day."

There was wonder in Her face
and intention in Her plans
as She finished Her wine
and contemplated Her best and favorite
submissive man.

(c) 2007, william the submissive poet

Thank you william for your lovely gift. Not just today but for all the beautiful works you've shared with me.

Bedtime Story

My senses have been hypnotically tormented
until they overwhelm me.
The darkness is like fine silk
moving across a just healed wound.
In the half light, I see Her pale body of delight
wearing that erotic blood red
bondage tight dress. Its image caresses
all the vulnerable parts of me
and I gasp as the sound of Her heels
on the hardwood floor pound into me
with the irresistible rhythm of complete domination.
When I return to myself, only the scent
of Her perfume convinces me that it was real.
The ability to perceive comes and goes in waves.
Large and random segments of time disappear.
In one lucid moment, I notice that I am naked,
gagged and bound on a great satin bed, then
I hear Her approach and all consciousness
fades away as She comes near. She whispers,
and my position becomes desperate and clear.

- (c) 2007, william the submissive poet

The Room

I asked william to write a poem inspired by this photo so I'm reprinting it to accompany his words. ~ Lady Julia



The Room

To the room of darkness and light,
She summoned him for Her amusement
and cruel delight.

He is not as before and he does
what he is told. She makes sure
he forgets who he was.

Do not waste tears for him, he wants this
more than anything. In Her control,
he surrenders to Her kiss.

She dresses carefully to feed his fetishes.
Her words are chosen to drive him insane.
He feels only what She wishes.

When Her bright red nails, imagined or real,
trace the curve of his cheek, he must speak
and all his darkest secrets reveal.

She pleasures Herself while he is in trance,
each climax driving him deeper into frustration
and arousal without deliverance.

The room is real and in his mind.
She has trained and conditioned him
to only be free when hypnotically confined.

(c)2007, william the submissive poet

Patterns of Power

Between the verbal touch
that removes resistance
and the command that follows,
there is an infinity of anticipation.
As the mind spirals down
and down, nerve endings pleasured
beyond bearing, the need to serve
is tattooed on my desire for release.
My skin begins to be covered
by Her patterns of power.
My will is replaced by an obsession
to be Her perfect slave.
I now consider all the ways
in which I behave and how
I can improve in my devotion.
When She grants me the gift of trance,
binding me and teasing me
with every fetish and fantasy
that only She knows,
I am a small small thing,
buffeted in a hurricane of ecstasy,
imprisoned in my addiction
to submission and surrender,
and praying that She will never
set me free.

-(c) 2007, william the submissive poet

Subjective Considerations

Your words are tears of salt, of power, of desire.
I drown in them, I taste them, I become them.
Every new meaning is a shiver into submission.
Every command becomes obedience unbound.
In my surrender, I create Your dreams.
In my need to please, I am the medium
that aches for the touch of Your artistry.
Sweet soft words in spirals of sound,
around and around as I go down,
I am lost as You intended and suspended
in the web that defines Your intended use.
The power that You use to confuse me
is an addictive ecstasy to me. How can I
resist the offer that You tempt me with?
After I have given myself freely,
do You have any responsibility?

- (c) 2007, william the submissive poet

The End of the Day

The sweat on Your skin is sweet.
It is a gift to me
that You allow my tongue to taste it.
Your words have erotic power beyond belief.
Please may I bend my body low in supplication?
I am caught in the coil and constriction
of Your direction,
I am lost in the connections
that You impose upon me.
Your sweet kiss is a beautiful torture
that sends me down to submissive
eternity.
Rhythm and repetition,
word upon word,
arousal and control,
my soul is made to sing
like a slave auditioning.
I am an automaton that kisses
Your thighs, and moves upward
to pleasure the places
that You provide to me.
I am open completely
and Your desires decide
the trajectory of my need.
Only Your pleasure is important.
I follow the place Your eyes
mark while You ride Your passion.
Lock me away when You are finished.
I will worship the day
You return to take
the end of the day.

- (c) 2007, william the submissive poet

The Temple

When I worship
the temple enfolds me like a lover.
When I kneel
I feel as though I know my place.
I imagine Your face
favoring me with a glance.
I imagine that perhaps I have a chance
to be more than nothing to You.
I dream that the words in my mind
that will not ever stop
become replaced by Your words
and Your needs become mine.
I light incense that reminds me
of Your beautiful body scent.
I hold Your smile in my memory.
I am only free when I am Your slave,
how can that be?
This place is Your place that I made for You.
I worship here to expose and offer
my need to please You.
A small bell sounds to celebrate
the fact that You are near.
Please Dear Lady, use me
before I disappear.

(c) 2006, 2007 - william the submissive poet

Perfect Beauty

I am a rhythm,
a periodic response to Your perturbations,
a pendulum swinging
back and forth
back and forth
between Your every desire
and my need to make
Your desires realized.

Back and forth
back and forth
Your words come and go,
come and go,
Your voice connects to a caress
that moves up and down,
up and down
within my spine.

I wish to make Your every day
a holiday, I wish to be
the present You always open
first and play with
from morning until sleep.
I want You to keep me locked away
so that I may serve only You,
only Your needs,
only Your whims.

I wish to be the instrument
of Your ultimate pleasure,
the stimulation that makes Your orgasms
go on forever,
the submissive whose surrender
becomes more complete and complex,
mentally and physically more controlled
and tightly bound
while Your climax grows beyond understanding.

I am a rhythm
but a rhythm that burns,
a rhythm that learns to become
more Your slave, more Your creature,
more Your fantasy and Your love.
Back and forth
back and forth,
the release that You forbid to me
is a perfect unbearable beauty.

-(c) 2006, william the submissive poet

Untitled Poem

It is only a cage when it echoes the mind,
forced and controlled with all hope left behind.
What is a cage but a defined space, a place
with boundaries that cannot be crossed.
In hypnotic trance, imprisonment brings
more and more submissive entrapment.
The physical aspect reinforces the mental.
Weakness becomes ingrained and central
to action and need. Nature becomes more animal
and dependence becomes more complete.
In slavery, the cage is divorced from sensuality.
It is all about power and control.
The one who is let out is not released.
The cage still contains his soul.

(c) 2006, by william the submissive poet

Transformation

In the life that unfolds,
in the hand that strokes my pleasure,
in the voice that controls my doom,
there lies the violence
in which I am consumed.

Turn my thoughts to maelstrom
and then set them free
so that no capacity for consciousness
remains with me.
I am whatever You might wish me to be.

I offer my soul and my dreams
for You to change hypnotically
so they might amuse and make You smile.
You already own my desire.
Do whatever Your whims require.

As You create my arousal
and make of me a thing of need,
I have enough left
to worship You in act and deed.
I bow to kiss what You discard.

Dark Lady of my surrender,
force me deeper and deeper under
Your spell. When I am free, I am in hell.
Let Your words become
my bondage for all eternity.

- (c) 2006, william the submissive poet

Singing Butler

In that season,
summer with rain,
I was a bargain.

The beauty of Her trance,
once it was begun,
was that I could be
more than one person.

And so it was
that I became the consort
who danced with Her
upon the endless beach
conjured by Her hypnotic speech.

And yet I was observer too,
a butler in Her livery
who sang the dancing melody.

I am many for Her amusement
and nothing without Her.

We moved gracefully in the shallows,
rhythmically through
the tide pools of the mind.

She took the most sensitive
submissively intimate parts of me
and let them drift together out to sea
where they sank more and slowly deeper
to the sounds of Her compelling music,
Her controlling harmonies.

(c) 2006, william the submissive poet

(Artwork - The Singing Butler by Jack Vettriano)

Weather Forecast

She moves through my mind like the weather
when She is not here and when we are together.
She can manifest Herself as the softest breeze
or a hot rain that has me begging 'please'.
She can be a storm or a perfect hurricane,
making chaos of my thoughts for a game.
But when Her words and voice become
a warm dark wind that beguiles and stuns
my senses into helpless beautiful submission,
then every aroused part of my body runs
from shivering ice to the ache of sensual burning.
I live in the eye of Her ultimate cruel tempest.
I am Her creature now and I cannot resist.


- (c)2006, william the submissive poet

In the Moment

softly
insistently
one by one
one by one by one
water drops hitting the surface
words hitting the tension of the mind

disturbance
subsidence
melding and joining
resistance without meaning
insidious pleasure building physically
external senses failing to function completely

light
consciousness
caressed and extinguished
memory being replaced by now
resonance and subservience finding beauty
echoes continuing and growing in slow ecstasy

mirrors
reflections
a mask that must be worn
dancing with avatars of the darkness
hypnotic overlays conjuring a performance
silence questioning whether anything is real

- (c) 2006, william the submissive poet

Toy St0ry

When the morning comes
and I cannot see
because that is a sense
You have forbidden to me,
that is when I savor
and appreciate Your power.

When Your trance enfolds
all thought and action
and provides instructions
as to what I must become,
my need to serve You perfectly
completely overwhelms me.

When You take me to the edge
of physical ecstasy
and keep me there
while You climax repeatedly,
beautiful erotic agony
burns and consumes me.

When I awake in bondage,
a toy put away
until it is the next time
that You choose to play,
the extent of my desire
burns from Your denial.

In blindfold and gag,
wrists and ankles tightly tied,
with Your conditioning file
changing me inside,
pleasure reinforces Your control.
I only want to do what I'm told.


- (c) 2006, william the submissive poet

Dearest One

You stir my thoughts
and thicken them with desire.
You slow my will and my intention
until I do not know them.
Your tendrils sink into my mind,
twist and twine, releasing molecules
that find receptors and bind,
controlling all neurotransmission,
and making me blind to everything
except what You wish me to see.
Your words and voice are smoke
and wind. They end and begin
and I can do nothing except
take them in and worship You
in the bargain. In Your magic
sorcery, You have total victory
over every impulse that I have.
Your mastery of hypnotic trance
contains mystery and distance
from everything that I have known.
I am alone in the midst of You
and Your intricate and erotic
fantasy. I hang in bondage,
my skin and brain sensitized
so much that I can only writhe
and suffer beyond imagining
whenever You might touch me
or use Your voice and words
to entrance and prison me further.
Please, please, O Dearest One,
if it would give You pleasure,
use my offered willing body
and make my mind nothing
before You are done.


- (c) 2006, william the submissive poet

The Edge of the Whirlpool

Satin and silk,
soft words and voice,
seduction and surrender,
thoughts becoming nothing,
I follow Your words from
the beginning.

Your eyes captivate
and then reciprocate
by entering mine and then
take them away to the depths
of trying to please
and submission.

In this scene, I am background.
I try to acquiesce, I am nothing.
I have no place
as things progress
as You might wish.
You smile as I disappear.

All is of the cereberal.
Your creation is everything.
My thwarted desire makes You sing.
My very arousal implies
that You are around to control
the way I find my mind.

Yin and yang explain it all.
Balance is a rule of law.
Your reflection watches me.
Individual souls are nothing.
Forever makes me Yours.
I am what makes you whole.

(c)2006, william the submissive poet

Intermission

I straighten the red satin sheets
that I have just washed
and put the pillows in place.
I collect the whips, restraints,
and the mask She wore
on Her face. Each of these
I clean and arrange in
the appropriate way
while not yet touching
the audio tape She left
for me to play.
The smell of Her body
and Her scent remains
in the air, overpowering me
occasionally and sending
me into trance. Finally,
I am done and all has been
prepared according to
Her plan. My body shivers
as I take the tape and return
to reinforce Her mind control
in that special chair in my room.
And every moment, while I go
deeper than deep, more
submissive than ever before,
I ache and suffer with need
and arousal. Please, please may
She appear to use me again soon.

(c) 2006, william the submissive poet

I adore william's poetry and found this one to be especially beautiful. It's an indescribable feeling to have someone create such beauty especially for me. Thank you, sweet friend - you're very special.

Perspective

Who names the twilight all down to the ground?
Who counts the shadows and who sings the night?
There are mysteries that leave neither sound
nor traces behind in their secret flight.
The forest air is sharp upon the skin
when autumn bows and gives way to winter.
White moonlight makes this small clearing begin
to glow and shine but the cold is bitter.
The old magic from ancient days and times
survives here to renew the world’s dreaming.
There is power without measure that finds
the truth without sympathy or meaning.
We are accidents in this universe
just trying to make things better, not worse.

(c)2006, william the submissive poet

Perfect Focus

Your words control my senses.
All I can see is You and yet only
when it pleases You.
I smell Your perfume, a powerful aphrodisiac,
dry and sophisticated, almost decadent,
subtle and overwhelming.
I hear Your whispers and words,
rhythms and silences, controls and echoes.
Your trigger rhymes become a spreading infection
of incurable insatiable devotion.
My touch is frustrated by the hypnotic strength
of Your invisible bondage, a prison of silk
veils that paralyzes as it caresses.
I imagine that I taste the sweet salt sweat
on Your skin as You climax again and again.
I am what You have made me and what
You wanted me to be. You have made me into
what I never dared hope to be.

(c) 2006, william the submissive poet

Her Instrument

submission
surrender
I connect to words
that control my meaning
slowly
quickly
down into nothing
down into me
guided
directed
pulled into eternity
erotic tension growing in me
empty
waiting
burning white hot to serve
patience will be learned
pleasure
pain
an endless kiss
my mind cannot resist
Her climax
in context
I am more than content
to be Her instrument

(c) 2006, william the submissive poet

Her Words

I can almost see My words sink slowly into you.
Your face is blank and your eyes see
only the visions that I conjure for My amusement.
In the fantasy, I am your sorceress of power.
I control your universe with magic and mystery
and you worship Me as an erotic and wicked deity.
My oiled and perfumed finger traces a line
languorously down the vertebrae of your naked spine
leaving a growing weakness that follows behind.
I have changed your whole subjective reality
into one that is only centered around Me.
It is much too late for any thought of withdrawal now.
It is impossible for you to change back to what you were.
I have burned your bridges with the raging fires
of your secret fetishes and perversions stoked
to an intensity that destroys all possible thought.
You are mine to do with as My whims might move Me.
You have been shaped though My irresistible subversion.
Come here now and pleasure Me.

by william the submissive poet

The Jazz Club

It's always three in the morning when She comes to me
where I sit looking at my half empty glass of whiskey.
The last set is just starting to flow down
and Her voice mingles with the the smoke and the sound.
Have you ever heard jazz music so fine
that it pulls you in and leaves nothing behind?
The saxophone solo, an addicting sexy seduction,
clears the path for Her hypnotic induction.
I never remember Her motives until it's too late
when I become lost in those eyes too green to contemplate.
She does Her business with me there and then,
and as the last set winds down, She disappears again.
I wonder just what I have to do for Her this time.
I wonder what instructions She has placed in my mind.
I tell the bartender on my way out the door
to reserve the same table, I'm desperate for more.

(c) 2006, william the submissive poet

Dual Penetration

First She takes his mind
and makes it open,
submissive and sensitive.
She speaks and his body responds
with intense arousal.
Beads of sweat form
above Her lip as She strokes
and excites Herself.
When She can stand it
no longer,
She parts Her thighs
and enjoys the sexual tension
before She guides him inside.
This is yin and yang,
light and dark,
first as begun
then reversed in part.
Her penetration of him
goes in and out
with Her voice
in repetition.
His penetration of Her
is physical
and controlled
better and better.
When it is over,
they do it again.

(c) 2006, william the submissive poet

Pulling Strings

What's a Hypnodomme to do
when She creates a new way
to tease and torment you?

First She must prepare your mind
for the surprise that She plans
for you to ultimately find.

Then She should take you deep
to those places where She has trained you
to be the most submissive at Her feet.

When She has made your mind empty,
open and ready to obey Her every word,
that's the time to drive you erotically crazy.

You thought yourself aroused and safe
in the place where She brought you,
but now uncertain changes await.

Your excitement is reflected in Her voice
as She smiles and whispers commands
to the puppet that you are without any choice.

(c) 2006, william the submissive poet

Pergatory

If I could remember,
why I worship You -
it would become a harmony.

I replay the memory of Your words
stroking my hearing,
touching my taste and skin.

Your perfume excites surrender.
I remember other times and sins
when I knelt before You.

There is tension in my loins.
I am stretched thin in obedience.
My mind has no will but Yours.

You are a perfect lesson to learn
and my confession turns silence
and night into day.

I have opened myself and I believe.
I will not falter or fail.
Tell me what You need.

(c) 2006, william the submissive poet

Servant of the Goddess

Her words were darkness and light,

their touch a thousand whispers
falling through my night.
I felt Her power and Her delight
in the way they delivered Her control
along every nerve, into every muscle,
every desire and need.

I believe in service to Her.
I believe in beautiful obedience.
There is no pain here, only my joy
in pleasing Her in every way I can.
She has made me more of a man
in ways that are impossible for me
to understand. When She takes me
with Her voice, Her touch and
Her gaze, I am set free to fall
more and more deeply under Her spell.
My mind burns and my body
aches for release that is withheld
and controlled for Her pleasure.
She has my leash and my measure
and I only wish to worship Her forever.

(c) 2006, william the submissive poet

Phoenix

Her words are a flowing fire
that burns my resistance to ashes.
I am consumed by hot flashes
of erotic need and an irresistible
desire to submit and surrender.
The fire grows softer and yet
more and more controlling
and it does not ever stop.
It becomes the warm breath
of beautiful domination by a lover
who knows my limits
and will not quit testing them.
I make myself suffer
because I cannot please Her more.
I open my mind until every
secret and every obsession
is revealed and offered.
I do this so that She can change
me and make me better suited
to Her needs and Her whims.
She does things inside me that
I can feel but cannot understand
or remember except as pleasure.
I fear I have failed but gentle fingers
raise my gaze to Hers.
Red lips smile at me
and the future begins.

(c) 2006, william the submissive poet

Surrender at the Shore

Waves crash upon the shore,

each made of Your whispers and more.

There is a slow rhythm to the way

the warm water washes over my ankles

and plays me with sensation.

I seem to hear You say something

against the wind, it is an invitation,

an invitation to begin. I kneel

and offer myself completely to You.

Who could resist Your tide

when it wishes to come in?

(c) 2006, william the submissive poet

Falling Forever

Falling forever

falling

without ever knowing

how it will end.

I am in a place

without sight

surrounded by the breath

of blind sensual night.

I can smell

the powder of dried rose

on your skin

as my breathing slows.

Sensitivity has grown

beyond any measure.

You control my desperation

to become both pain and pleasure.

I am a promise

and an offering.

For you alone will I become

anyone or anything.

(c) 2006, william the submissive poet

The sound of small bell, or a wind chime, but there was no wind,
filled the air with a complex mysterious tone that whispered,
then grew into fullness, then faded slowly into invitation.
Silence followed, but not in my mind where the hypnotic tones
continued undiminished, soft and yet powerful, pushing
all thoughts away and pulling me into the focus of the tone.
The more my self dissolved into the moment, an arousal grew
until I only knew sound and arousal. I became pure arousal
with no thought, no analysis, no intellectuality, only need.
In that world of myself, I felt but could not analyze, the control
that filled me, the desire to perfectly please. Then memory came,
or was granted, and I remembered red lips whispering,
words that became more than words, that insinuated themselves
into every part of my essence. There was no release, just an increase
in the level of the intensity until I was no more than a voice
begging to serve, to pleasure, to sacrifice itself completely.
When I had burned red, then blue, violet and finally white
hot into a flame that You fed and tormented without mercy,
I knew that I had been shown heaven and I worshipped You.

(c) 2006, william the submissive poet

Hurricane of Stillness

She is a hurricane of stillness
that collects, softens and silences
every thought I have.

She erases my conscious thought
and makes me a medium of white
where She can write at Her leisure.

How can everything be in motion
and not move at all? How can Her words
design my future and I demure?

It is warm in Her storm where
obedience is pleasure and release
submitted to Her control makes me free.

She strokes me with a velvet mental touch
that takes me over the edge
and holds me there begging for more.

Her ecstasy in using me to demonstrate
Her power is a thing of beauty
that consumes all sanity.

Dear Lady, take me at Your whim,
Your pleasure and Your need.
I only want to serve and please.

(c) 2006, william the submissive poet

Trance of the Flowers

I slept in a sea of flowers
that grew to entwine and suggest.
Their fragrance carried You into
my senses. I thought with skin's softness.
My mind was empty of voice and empty
of choice, waiting to be filled with caring.
I took two slow breaths of deeper down
and sang the dreams the flowers sing.
Your words began to settle through the flowers
like the colored shadows of sighs.
I was one with all Your whispers,
gently seduced into wearing Your disguise.
I became the expression of Your art forever
until You deigned to set me free,
unwilling and newly born
from Your ecstasy.

(c) 2006, william the submissive poet

Heaven's Gate

I float in a great dark velvet void
but there is no I here,
only a waiting, an anticipation,
a need.
When You speak a word,
it becomes the focus,
the nexus of everything.
It fills the universe and is heard
by every atom of the thoughtless
essence I have become.
In the open mind of trance
with my inner voice silent and sleeping,
Your words become the thoughts,
Your ideas become real,
Your erotic intensity and fantasy
become the only truth there is.
It feels so strange and wonderful
and slow in motion and pleasure.
When You turn up the gain on
my senses, what I become for You then
feels like You have taken my soul
once again through heaven's gate.

(c) 2006, william the submissive poet