A cage song, and stillness in bdsm

This really is a robin redbreast in a cage. His name is Bugsy, and he's an orphan. His breast will get redder when he gets a little older. A few days after this photo was taken, he flew away.

This really is a robin redbreast in a cage. His name’s Bugsy, and he’s an orphan. His breast will get redder when he gets a little older. He was released a few days after this photo was taken.

A robin redbreast in a cage

Puts all heaven in a rage;

But birds, impervious to command,

Captivity can’t understand;

When you knelt, bound, so meek and still,

Unfreedom was your own free will;

My iron embrace was your delight;

Your body held, your mind took flight.

I do not think the heavens resented

Submissiveness so sweet presented.

 

 

Sorry for starting this poem with Blake lines and then continuing with mine. It’s like sticking another ‘tache on the Mona Lisa, isn’t it? Except that it’s meant respectfully. It may even be so, just as giving unfreedom can be an act of love..

One day I’ll write something about the woman who inspired this poem. She liked cages. My engagement with cages is specific to her and my relationship. I’d never used one before, and haven’t since. They’re not calling me, so unless I get a hint from a charming submissive woman to the effect that she thinks she’d look cute behind bars, it may stay specific to that one relationship. I did enjoy it. 

But this poem was about her stillness, when she was waiting in her cage for me to “notice” her. In her mind – you know how doms and subs know these things, even when they’re not said – she was a captive, abducted from a beach or a railway station, trained to wait, neatly ready for her captor’s pleasure, and to be put away again, like a toy, after use. She was not meek, even when submitting, but she liked the thought of being meek.

hisagain1I was going to post something more explicit about pleasure and power today, but I’ve been out digging and unblocking drains, because of a sudden and heavy rainstorm, dumping more water against the walls of the house than the drains and gutters could handle. 

I think I’ve headed the water off. Reaching down to where metal pipe meets ag pipe, about 18 inches below the ground. The rain down my back and between my buttocks while I pulled out the Japanese maple roots that were causing the blockage. If that means nothing to you, you’re lucky.  

On the other hand, the sudden GAWP! sound when you’re cleared it and the water starts to drain is good.

But I’m soaked and freezing. Now I’m for a hot bath and a cup of coffee with a drop of rum. 

Steamy sex will have to  be posted later. 

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