The Ongoing Scene by Lady Lira

The Ongoing Scene
By Lira Savira

It was dark, and the room smelled sweet
Like perfume and the laundered sheets
That she lay upon as she watched him
Quivering and bound by every limb
With some old lacey torn up frock
To the mahogany grandfather clock.

She caressed her breast and lightly so
A hundred tiny candles aglow
And watched him squirm from the heat
And smiling whispered "What a treat."
She moved nearer and laughing still
As the clock struck the nine bell trill.

Her captive then did shudder before
The vibrations running through his core
His cock was hard, his muscles sore
His strained voice said, "Miss, please no more."
As the sweat rolled off his back....and hit the floor.

His eyes did bulge as the last bell tolled
His Mistress had a paper rolled
This crinkly ball was shoved in his mouth
As her hand moved down south
To grip his cock, hard and firm
And stroke him roughly to reaffirm.

He groaned loudly and half a moan
He knew for mistakes he must atone
His Mistress rubbed her soft body
Against his skin now dark and ruddy
She watched his every move intent
On using him up until he was spent.

From the bed she collected her favorite toys
For correcting disobedient, bad little boys
A leather flogger in her left hand
Which no one yet could withstand
In her right hand, a simulated cock
Of which size none ever did mock.

And so they went on through the night
With pleasures having no end in sight
The neighbors just built thicker walls
To drown out their lustful calls
This story still continues to unfold
Desire and deviance, spirited and bold.