The Wrathful Mistress

She kissed me slow, said, ‘Don’t resist…’
Wound my silk tie round my wrist
The other too she caught and bound
Supple leather all around
She tied them both above my head
Fixed me firmly to the bed
My legs she wrapped in softest felt
Ankles captured by my belt

While chains of gold she weaved and coiled
Lust ignited, passion boiled
I ached to touch her, feel her heat
Such attempts met sure defeat
I wished to strip aside her gown
Pleading thus just made her frown
I struggled vainly for one touch
Begging so – was just too much

She looked at me and gave a growl
Fury in her dark-eyed scowl
‘I want a man that makes me hot,
Whimpering excites me not!’
She whipped me fiercely ’til I cried
Couldn’t move so couldn’t hide
She sneered and whispered, ‘What a child!
Think I hurt you? That was mild!’

She left me helpless, all alone,
Knowing that I must atone…

About Frank

A Sci-Fi & Fantasy author and lyrical poet with a mild obsession for vampires, succubi, goddesses and Supergirl.
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