What is his real name? To you he is Master.

You call out to him from the other room.
He doesn't answer.
You know he can hear you, yet he doesn't answer.
You get up and go into the room, ask again.
He looks at you but doesn't respond.
You sigh.
You ask again, this time you call him Master.
He answers your question.
Little by little, your life as you knew it,
before he sucked you into this lifestyle is disappearing.
When was the last time you called him by his real name?
What is his real name?
To you he is Master.
And the crazy thing is, as each day goes by,
it's easier and easier to call him that.
In your words, in your writing, in your thoughts.
The sadistic bastard, he's always a few steps ahead of you,
pushing and pulling you deeper into the abyss.
What was once dark and cold from the outside looking in
now is warm, sexy and comforting.
Why was I ever afraid of this to begin with?
How did he know I would take to this?
How does he know what to do to me?
What to push in me?
What to prod in me?
What not to do TO me?
He is Master. I am slave.
I accept that, deeper by the day.