by Peter Loaf
The spy He visits, underground room
Her naked body, impending doom
Her secrets prying
An end to lying
CIA snooper, the cameras zoom
Steel springs biting, hurting her back
Hospital binders, head in a sack
Footsteps are coming
Sorry she’s chumming
Knees straining inward, blocking attack
His big hands spreading, a length of steel
Her thighs pried open, gag garbled squeal
His finger He slips
Her clitty He grips
Arching to ceiling, trying to deal
Questions resuming, “Nod yes or no”
The finger worming, pussy to know
Her straining useless
Her captor ruthless
G spot his target, on with the show
The cameras circle, internet porn
The plot enriching, the spy forlorn
Helpless and sobbing
Of free will robbing
Helpless responses, dignity shorn
Nipple tips suckle, vibrating wand
Clitty tip crimson, taking beyond
Subbie space floating
Cameraman coating
Money shot spraying, forming a pond
Her crinkled nipples, her button red
His crop comes biting, helpless on bed
The leather slashing
Her juices splashing
Dildo inflating, pussy well fed
Nodding acceptance, needing to stop
Orgasms forcing, needing her top
Useless her thrashing
Her chips He’s cashing
Subbie survival, under the crop
Spring into action, given the chance
Martial arts expert, level advanced
Another one coming
Gag garbled humming
Spring into action, St Vitas dance
The check presented, back on the road
Moll Flanders Stables, PD’s abode
Bondage my ticket
Safety the trick
Helplessness needed, pony well rode
