Street Cleaning, part 2
by Peter Loaf

Consciousness coming, head in a sack
Ankle thigh bondage, arms tied in back
My eyes wonít open
In panic gropiní
Hopeless and naked, panic attack

Kicking and flopping, tape muffled screams
Held in tight bondage, the stuff of dreams
Id monsters lurking
Captive berserking
Sex slaver taking, consciousness streams

Rough rope restraining, panting defeat
Hogtied and helpless, a piece of meat
The still air stirring
A kitty purring
Licking my pussy, smelling so sweet

Licky-clit raspy, wiggle away
Cat clawing bottom, my feet of clay
Sweet juices spurting
When-ever hurting
Pain whore by nature, sexy display

Squeaking of hinges, sweat cooling air
Footsteps approaching, gripping my hair
Hoisted up slowly
Hair in a pulley
Settled on kneecaps, the Lurkers lair

His head cheese stinking, circuits blowing
Seven way traction, nowhere going
Nipple suck biting
No way of fighting
Kneeling on table, passion showing

The final binding, spreading my thighs
Hard nipples taping, same as my eyes
The hinges squeaking
The shelter seeking
My wishbone splitting, tape muffled cries

The Lurker famous, cleaning the streets
An export market, selling sweet treats
Some demand broken
Docks of Hoboken
Warehouse deserted, new Master meets

Awash in sexy, footsteps approach
The cat removing, my slaver coach
His lessons learning
My bridges burning
A slave becoming, beyond reproach