A Collar For A Pet

A black collar, of the finest leather done
To bind in golden chains the one
Who would not suffer to be bound-
The rogue, the animal, rebellious trash,
Once glowing, now beaten, returns without a sound
To his master's open arms.
His hands ungloved, waiting to caress
And force the fiery body, until it yields to his charms,
The master waits; the master waits
Patiently, in the shadows
For their long disentangled fates
To once again be entwined
By the leash of the collar that  he clutches so firmly,
Waiting to receive back what he once refused to bind,
And to grant him a feeling
He should have never felt.