Sometimes...Early in the morning,
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New light verses added February 2002 | |
You turn to him shyly...
And veil your face,
There are better things ahead than any we leave behind. -- C. S. Lewis
~¤~Going Home~¤~
You converse so very little,
Invites you in to show his mettle,
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~¤~ Delighted~¤~
Delighted Master spanked her bum,
Until her flanks felt rather numb.
Letting the pain and pleasure grow
As pinkened pert cheeks must glow,
Across his lap he gripped his pet.
Her wanton bottom whipped. And yet,
As at each blow his soul he threw,
While struggling there, she surely knew -
How much more she'd need to come
Delighted, Master spanked her bum.
~¤~Daring~¤~
I dared to write his name upon my chest,
But had a bath and washed it off again,
Again I wrote it with a firmer hand,
But scrubbed it hard - it made me wince with pain.
*
Pens, cried my heart, cannot make me replete,
I'll stitch his sacred name on underwear
But when I kneel naked at his feet,
That word strewn on the ground - I cannot bear.
*
He'd whip me if he knew my disrespect
So hard he'd make me scream and yell and holler
I know it's all I really can expect
I'll mark his name with studs around my collar.
*
Or will this make him think, as he subdues:
Spanked harshly once again with his rough hand
As in his fashion, he, my rear tattoos,
Marking my backside with his daring brand.
~¤~Discovery~¤~
He'd spank
her flank
well dressed
impressed
thus praised
she raised
beneath his gaze
her rear
the dear.
*
She thanked
but ranked
his slaps
perhaps
he sighed
denied
and then supplied
A sneer
so clear.
*
"My dear
your naughty rear
I'll whip
so skip
and fetch
you little letch
my lovely wretch
no ploy
hand me my toy"
*
"Enjoy
now don't be coy
just strip
don't quip
and kneel
I'll feel
you make me reel
and steal joy
for you're a boy."
~¤~ Bath Time ~¤~
Submissive, when Master gets fearsome,
Recollect he was once a mere youth
An ill-washed wretch with a temper,
And that's surely the gigglesome truth
*
His mother brought bitter vexation,
A loud gnashing of teeth and hot words
High dudgeon may breed indignation,
But his umbrage and pique are absurd.
*
He plots his paroxysms in choler,
For scowling and frowns bring on laughter,
It may be a tantrum will follow,
When you say:" It is time for your bath, Sir."
*
"Dear Master, the water is waiting
It will wash away huff, miff and bile"
Maids scrub in the steam, aggravating
The hot rage he ferments all the while.
*
He may be wrathful with fury and fire,
Cleansing efforts rarely earn his thanks,
But sustain Master's passionate ire,
You may win an explosion of spanks.
*
So when you are needy, submissive,
Your soft flanks seeking harsh OTK,
Go up to your Master and whisper:
"Mama tells me it's bath time today."
~¤~ A Wanton Lack ~¤~
When Master comes to pet,
He may look at her askance,
Knowing he must redress
Her wanton lack of pants.
No matter how he lectures;
No matter how he rants;
She smiles as he rages at
Her wanton lack of pants.
*
On bended knee she implores
And tearfully recants -
Such scenes are oft repeated, like
Her wanton lack of pants.
It's not that he's a fetishist -
He smiles when she decants
Shapely flesh from silkies with
Her wanton lack of pants.
*
He has whipped her till she wails
In the hope squealing descants
Will help her to desist from
Her wanton lack of pants.
He surrounds her with dutch pictures
Vermeers, Ruysdales, Rembrandts:
Bloomered models surely frown on
Her wanton lack of pants.
*
He has offered her maidservants,
Advice from gallant confidants,
Who, in their sycophancy, applaud
Her wanton lack of pants.
Sighing, full of cant again,
He decides to take a glance -
Lifts skirts in expectation of
Her wanton lack of pants.
*
But shock, horror and surprise:
The wench is now enceinte!
He who forgot his cover, forgets
Her wanton lack of pants.
So let that be a lesson
In your D/s gallivants.
It takes two to tango, not
Her wanton lack of pants.
~¤~A view from the courtyard~¤~
Pull up the library blinds that could smash the glass to shards,
Feels the smoothness of the window that will cool her bouncing rear;
Once they shed their underwear, naked to mutual awed regard,
Forgets the rubbing of her cheeks may cause foggyness to clear.
*
Winter stillness in the courtyard, contrasts with twirls so torrid,
Her heart pounds ever faster, as she receives her ration;
Protective condensation hides her lusts and beads her forehead,
As the cubicle warms quickly, heating reinforced by passion.
*
Keep cries muted though his touches would her self-control confound,
A thick tendril swells within her, as she prolongs his excitation;
The juncture of her belly and his roughened pubic mound,
Clears the mist as her enthusiasm brings intense exaggeration.
*
"Shhh, it's a library," he chides and stuffs her mouth with a foulard;
They both turn to dress, but blush at the view from that courtyard.
(Before proceeding with the odd line in bondage).
~¤~Time To Eat ~¤~
Lie back, legs spread,
As I reach for the other ingredients -
A banana,
Whipped cream,
Raspberry syrup
And, of course, inevitably, cherries.
*
The banana, barely ripe,
It must be almost firmly green,
To be peeled,
And slowly pushed in -
Under a cherry,
Nestling delicate and intrusive.
*
Scoop out, fingers-full
Of thick double whipped cream.
Making sure
To bump and jiggle
The fruits in her womb,
And their moist container in the process.
*
Now for the raspberry syrup,
Little trails on criscrossing her -
More cherries,
From her cool-whip centre,
To a palpitating heart,
The banana split's done. Time to eat.
~¤~Theft~¤~
Sometimes,
Early in the morning,
You turn to him shyly,
And veil your face,
Tugging under the coverlet,
As if you were a harem girl,
And he the priapic calyph.
*
Sometimes,
Reaching out for his body,
And the cooling flesh,
You are reminded who he is,
And of the petty larceny,
Committed in your iniquitous theft
Of all that warming duvet.
*
And sometimes,
You make a wonderful slave
Regardless.
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~¤~Suburban Intercourse~¤~
You converse so very little,
Invites you in to show his mettle,
You have knowledge he would share
You knows his secret.
He looks desirous, he attracts,
But your flirtation would fall back,
For revelations might detract,
Or should you keep it?
*
In their suburban ambiance,
The neighbours look askance
Lured by the teasing dance
That's what he wants;
Would he now openly admit,
You could make a real hit,
If you confronted him with it
Will he recant?
*
Unabashed you'd have him squirm,
Force the hypocrite to turn,
As all the local papers learn,
Of deeds upsetting;
He grabs a whip and takes a wrist,
Tied to a cherry bough you'll twist,
As vain protests are dismissed,
Your panties wetting.
*
Desired submission is a dream,
And his conception will redeem,
The execution makes you scream,
As you entreat him,
With the first cut, bite your tongue,
With the second your undone,
Wait permission till you come,
Enjoy your beating.
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~¤~Jen Etal Awakens ~¤~
She wanted nothing more than the puissance adored,
She rather craved, sleeping flesh to be laved;
Delighted by challenge, burrowing under cover,
Silent for a moment, heard her exhaling lover.
*
As his chest roses, she leans in close and subtle,
His power devoured - begin the rousing battle;
Hips tremble slightly, but he did not awake,
She tasted fleshy segments and bent down to take.
*
Sucking him gently, relishing distinctive tastes,
Drawing him to stiffness in her mouth's embrace;
When thoroughly hardened, full of rested wanting,
Eyes creaking open to laving kisses so wanton.
*
Stroking, eyes locked on her lover rapacious,
She licks, tracing keenly, her tongue quite salacious;
Eyelids close in pleasure, oscillations enticing
Between a mouth and member, comes an explosive rising.
*
An October attic forage brings to light a mask,
To make her scream delighted in surprise;
The wild, ghoulish visage suits her transforming task,
For Halloween enchantments she's devised.
Eyes, oh lurid eyes, a pair of murky pools,
Ghastly lips entice, full of pale guile;
Moistly spread to smile at the sanguine fools,
To hold off vapid chat a goodly while.
Created by gnarled hands in ancient leisure,
Hers for but this night, then gone forever.
*
He would let her once again suffer discomfort,
A backyard rut in plant life if she must;
One night is all she needs with this sad maggot,
At dawn her clothes will pool over his dust.
Anxieties are stripped with her dark clothing,
Does she allay her fears with such exposure?
Yet, somehow this does not offset self-loathing,
On shadowy lawns she'll have her former lover.
She needs to plot and plan lest he's discovered,
Alternate attractions to her flesh uncovered.
*
Allowing the soft surrender at her spread rear,
Lewd caresses where it's scarce permitted;
Releasing, as the cares well up, such tears,
Behind her mask, immodesty's remitted.
She would have wriggled at his keen designs,
Though he might lay her down upon her chest;
She had a clue of all he had in mind,
Before bare grass absorbed each pliant breast.
The prickly grass reminds her of many sins,
She nods her head - determined - he begins.
*
She questions once again translucent socks,
That slide into her view as passion mounts;
Perchance he used to praise her party frocks,
This ex-arbiter of her taste, she now discounts.
Our heroine's laughter stilled in her arousal,
Her conceited dreamboat is now quite undressed;
She cares not how he thrusts in this carousal,
But must he ride in boxers and string vest?
Despite his rising ululation's, she'll not forget,
How his lack of dress sense alleviates regret.
*
On supple flesh the palm's quite apt to linger,
Deriving such sticky torment with a digit;
At least she hopes it is his roving finger,
Loath as she is for tupping by this midget.
Bewitched by vigorous dwarfish penetration,
Entered lately with gleeful passion to the hilt;
Ensconced within, conjoined in procreation,
Even if his gnarled old skin seems Rumplestilt.
To be taken by this pumpkin seems obscene,
Where's the trick to find a treat on Halloween?
*
In the midnight yard, she's silent beyond reason;
Released from his now lank insidious stave,
The night owl seems too quiet at this season,
This troll is her both ex-lover and a knave.
She waits in vain for whispered words endearing,
The syllables, enticing, fail to come;
Rest uneasy in this star specked clearing,
The warmest phrases, muted, find no home.
She nudges lest he begins a sonorous slumber,
Her thoughts regressing to primeval hunger.
*
Disturbed by self-obsession in ominous night,
He whispers: "Lave me, cleanse each sticky thigh?"
Expecting she will feed lewd appetite,
"Should I unmask?" comes her wicked reply.
Conforming to his last perverse request,
A revealed snarl allows unsubtle pecks;
The jugular soon exposed at her behest,
Sharp fangs embed within his spurting neck.
All he wanted was the hamper he'd demeaned,
The vampire is unmasked on his fatal Halloween.