I sit at her feet.
This is my place.
Where I belong.
I need no clothes to cover me.
No tethers to hold me.
No words to define me.
My submission is gift and contract enough.
Trust and loyalty given in my every move.
Sitting, waiting when she is busy with work
I follow her through the house crawling on my hands and knees.
Always at her heel, always ready.
Yielding and open when she wants to be sure of my wanton dedication.
Slick to her touch.
Enveloping her into my wetness and setting her free as she claims me.