To change you from a Lady to a slave;
to break your will on mine; to dominate
your every waking hour; to subjugate
your flesh with collar, whip, flog, cane; to sate
my need upon you to its darkest state;
and, finally, to emboss or to engrave
my mark upon your body with my brand
(searing, white-hot, that all may understand
that you are my possession---wholly mine):
to all of this, however, you decline
politely.  Then, at your whispered command
(the softest voice that promised such lush charms),
I was turned over to your men at arms.


Their smiling Captain, laughing, said . . . "Castrate."
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Lady Maent, a historical figure, appears in several of Ezra Pound's poems about Provencal.  According to the sources I consulted, she was considerably beautiful, and shrewd.

DISCLAIMER:  THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION.  NO ANIMALS OR dominants HAVE BEEN INJURED IN THE MAKING OF THIS POEM.  THEY HAVE BEEN TREATED EXACTLY THE SAME.