The Master Poem by Val Brooklyn Rogers

My will is
I touch you where you beg me.
Senses conspire.
I feel you breathe.
Proving my tease.

Providing a caress, causing a moan.
My DEAL is fare.
Come here to me.
My deal is UNIVERSAL appeal.
You know the secret.
The MASTER I am.

Promising the comfort of my
Hands on your DELICATE skin.
So so soft, TENDER is she.
And as ripe as sweet fruit
Waiting to be plucked.

I AM your master. I am yours
You are mine.
Your taste is sweet and causes me
Unspeakable pleasure.
You are mine.

I MASTER