by Peter Loaf
Lesbian Mistress, studio loft
A maze of curtains, escape cut off
My pimp out of town
Just whoring around
Big friendly lesbo, and not that soft
In public stupid, flashing her cash
Thought I might roll her, give her a bash
Dump her in river
To sea deliver
Cut her and gut her, her throat I’d slash
The cops not stupid, “Last seen with whom?”
I go to her place, “A top floor room”
Climbing a ladder
Quick as an adder
My hands are shackled, descending gloom
The bitch ferocious, clothing shredded
Handcuffed and hobbled, ready bedded
Helpless and naked
A sex slave taken
Puka pump stretching, Monkey headed
The Dyke is sweating, I smell her musk
She’s getting undressed, eyes full of lust
I shuffle away
“Right here you will stay!”
“If things go righteous, the Ivory Coast”
A distant humming, all I can do
My subbie lusting, my heady brew
Dyke with a paddle
Oh fiddle faddle
Street cleaning unit, Sex Slaver Sue
“But first you’re breaking, far too feisty”
“A word of warning, forfeits pricey”
“Paddle electric”
“Hong Kong eclectic”
“High voltage shocker, My sex spicy”
“Paddle ball chasing, a game we’ll play”
“Each point I’m scoring, forfeit you pay”
“Puka ball hitting”
“Reflexes pitting”
“A swing and a miss, will save your day”
My hobbled ankles, my shackled hands
“Just so your knowing”, her tone commands
“See what can happen?”
E-paddle zappin’
Hobble trip falling, panic demands
Straddle her bottom, holding her down
Flattened like pancake, two hundred pound
Strong hands get busy
Head in a tizzy
Hobbles releasing, freedom new found
To bare feet lifted, told to go hide
Through doorway running, it’s huge inside
Red velvet curtain
Pussy juice squirting’
Maze in a warehouse, paddle applied
Puka ball swinging, a foot of hose
Bouncing on nipples, my passion grows
Trotting the isles
It seems like miles
Twisting and turning, my panic shows
Split in the curtain, hairy arm reach
Turning and sprinting, lessons to teach
The curtain crashing
The paddle flashing
Slaver fish flopping, high voltage screech
Slave buyer coming, usual place
Docks in Hoboken, no face to face
A key in the mail
Her own little jail
Steamer trunk heavy, forklift in case
Only in transit, switch discovered
Dyke in tight bondage, freight delivered
The crewmen wonder
Discipline under
Feed clean and water, sold up river
