The Don
by Peter Loaf

The English treasure, Jamaican trade
The Spanish frigate, the harbor raid
Governor’s mistress
In helpless distress
Hardbound and naked, bottom displayed

The Don comes grinning, paddle in hand
The captive crying, sobbing demand
His fingers fiddle
Dribbling piddle
Upended beauty, her downfall planned

Her bottom blushing, her sex exposed
Her pussy swollen, opening rose
His fingers rubbing
Labia chubbing
Clitty tip diamond, she cannot close

The paddle striking, screaming in pain
Her bottom blazing, the ropes in strain
Her passion prizing
Her passion rising
The buried treasure, she will explain

Screaming defiance, under his lash
Her pussy dripping, her crimson gash
His fingers finding
Her business minding
Clitty pinch tugging, the paddle’s slash

Hardbound and hopeless, under duress
Pain/passion fever, screaming confess
The treasure hidden
The village midden
The troops dispatching, the Don undressed

Bottoms up bondage, sexy and wide
His organ dripping, ready to ride
Kneeling astraddle
Smacking his paddle
Deep thrusting organ, sliding inside