Irons
by Peter Loaf


My sentence irons, bottle of stone
Shudda kept quiet, rebel side shown
Bottle shaped chamber
The rebel tamer
Oubliette waiting, punishment prone

The chains amazing, riveted tight
Hogtied in iron, the endless night
The stopper stopping
His subbie topping
Hurting and horny, bring back the light

The irons heavy, weight on my knees
A movement of air, the slightest breeze
His heat Iím feeling
My layers pealing
The darkness complete, a whiff of cheese

Body responding, knowing what comes
My Master visits, bringing some crumbs
My hunger lower
Itís wetting the floor
Master me Master, my pussy chums

A ring gag fitted, hands in the dark
His pecker sliding, my gullet park
Rattle chains gasping
Passion unmasking
Spreading wet circle, stinking wet mark

Oubliette passion, air getting thick
My passions shelter, survival trick
His cock meat throbbing
Open mouth jobbing
Tongue showing willing, nuzzle and lick

Then it is over, my facial done
His jizzum dripping, his wasted cum
Still in my subbie
Hands of my hubby
Oubliette renting, the Mended Drum

Garbled protesting, he moves away
The air stops moving, but here I stay
My shins Iím skinning
Gravity winning
Held in the irons, sexy display

Mended drum bondage, best on the net
Moll Flanders hosting, pay per view get
A shaft of white light
My eyes closing tight
Oubliette filling, a movie set

Irons