by Peter Loaf
It’s spring vacation, most students gone
Co-ed remaining, sweet little Fawn
Taken while sleeping
Silently creeping
Noose on her windpipe, my come-along
Kicking and choking, she cannot win
Down to my dungeon, stripped to the skin
The pumps stand ready
My heart unsteady
Lifetime desire, let us begin
Shackle her ankles, cuffing her wrists
Two handles strapping, gripped in her fists
Foot to the pedal
Fish in the kettle
The cracker snapping, convulsive twists
This pump invention, my pride and joy
A place for training, her Master’s toy
A slow beginning
The flywheels spinning
The cistern filling, the whip deploy
Flyaway frenzy, turning the cranks
Naked ass beaten, with stripy flanks
She’ll pump the water
Like the good daughter
My screaming student, filling the tanks
The cracker biting, her welted side
Pain beyond screaming, forgotten pride
Pussy lips swelling
Pheromones smelling
Flyaway frenzy, the whip applied
Tank overflowing, letting her rest
Pinching a nipple, to further test
Tickle her clitty
Spanking her kitty
Two weeks of training, my helpless guest
Cold water spraying, shivering shock
Soapy sponge cleaning, my swelling cock
Crank handles turning
Libido yearning
After her training, the auction block
Maidenhead probing, virgin intact
My cock is throbbing, around the back
Greasy rose stretching
Welted ass fetching
Tiger striped bottom, under attack
Hands gripping boobies, into my hilt
Anus tight clutching, her urine spilt
Doing the doggy
My throbbing loggy
She screams in passion, her Master’s will
Crushing clit gripping, flinching away
The pumps refilling, the endless day
Sucking and tucking
Fucking and trucking
Master my student, making it pay
Poor little orphan, these hallowed halls
The water’s pumping, so are my balls
The Missing Coed
Her colon well fed
My phallus spurting, over the falls
Pain/passion’s play-toy, property mine
The flywheels slowing, the finest kind
Wilting cock slipping
My semen dripping
My slave in training, girl in a bind
Un-strapping shackles, taking in hand
Dragged to the mattress, the iron band
Fortnight of training
Thirteen remaining
Shackled exhausted, all part of plan
Early next morning, long before dawn
The open shackle, finding her gone
The sirens wailing
Time for hightailing
Headmaster running, from little Fawn
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