by Peter Loaf

Sheathed in black leather, buckle and snap
Face filling phallus, tighten the strap
Squatting position, my titties slapped
Tickle my pickle, my dripping sap

Packaged presented, tied wide and pink
Quiver strain tendons, bent in a kink
Pheromones flowing, starting to stink
My Mistress grinning, her evil wink

Sisters of Mercy, a bondage club
The city’s elite, elbows to rub
Mistress and mastered, rub-a-dub sub
The feeding frenzy, a chunk of chub

Drip wiggle squirming, passionate prize
Shudder hump shimmy, I’m drawing flies
Fingers so knowing, gag muffled cries
The club gone quiet, my passions rise

Sheathed in black leather, fixed in a clamp
Screaming and creaming, hands of the champ
A butt plug inserting, slapping my damp
My passion doubles, the launching ramp

The tip jar filling, contacts and cash
Suggestion whispered, “Under the lash?”
Subbie space sailing, about to crash
Mistress and mastered, do something brash

The limo driver, loading our trunk
A private session, this wealthy hunk
Dungeon performance, veins full of junk
Master and Mistress, three in a bunk

The trap comes snapping, Mistress restrain
His phallus swelling, two girl detain
My Mistress struggles, tries to explain
Our Master chuckles, “Hope you like pain.”

Sisters of Mercy, following week
Our show held over, a lucky streak
His limo driver, coming to seek
Hung like a hawser, hard as a teak