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deepundergroundpoetry.com
Lady Sofia Returns
Darkness. That impenetrable cloying kind.
Naked. Cold. At least the blindfold warms my eyes.
My Mistress: Lady Sofia, somewhere in the darkness resides.
I sense she’s close. My other senses become more acute while I am blind.
Plush carpet muffles footsteps, but her perfume she can’t disguise.
I feel a light touch, her finger tracing, pleasantly down my side.
“Naughty poet,” She says. “Last time you bewitched me with your rhyme.”
She’s closer now, so close I can feel her warm breath against my ear.
“This time it will be on my terms,” my Mistress purrs.
“My house, my rules, I will issue both pleasure and pain in time.”
Pleasure and pain, her intent is clear, I feel that sweet thrill of fear.
My pulse quickens, I feel myself thicken. My lust swells and stirs.
I feel her warm breath over my chest, above my belly, then over thighs.
She pauses enticingly. Teasingly. My hardness strains, aching to reach her.
Such anticipation! My thoughts are racing, running wild.
Perhaps my Mistress will be a naughty nurse who always satisfies.
Or perhaps dispenses discipline like a stern and sexy teacher.
Or maybe my Mistress is the shy librarian, who’s secretly defiled.
“What would like for me to do with you? My Mistress purrs.
Her mouth so close now. Even her slightest breath a sultry sweet caress.
Such sweet agony! My whole body is rigid. I bite my lip.
I’m dizzy with desire. My thoughts intense as my mind whirrs.
“I’m enjoying your reaction poet, and of this I’m most impressed.”
Ecstasy! She breathes softly on my hardness, it tingles from base to tip.
Suddenly my whole world is tilting. My Mistress climbs upon the bed.
And although I’m blind, I can sense, we are positioned tail to head.
My Mistress hovers, her quim so intimate, barely inches from my face.
Air thick with her humid aroma, her musky sweetness I can almost taste.
Oh god! The barest contact, the slightest hint, the merest brush.
Uncontrollably my back is arching as I spasm at her touch.
But only for a moment. My mistress gone, replaced by emptiness.
I hear clipping and unclipping. She is fetching something from a case.
I hear the tell-tale swish of my Mistress appraising her favourite whip.
Then a strange sound, plastic gloves perhaps? I am curious, I must confess.
“Roll over my dear poet,” She says. I comply. Then warily I brace.
In tense anticipation. Once again I’m biting on my lip.
Haughtily she saunters over. Prods my bottom with her whip.
“I want to know how this feels,” my Mistress says, “the entire experience.”
“Narrate to me every sensation, whether a pleasure or painful trial.”
Then for further emphasis, she applied painful pressure through the tip.
“Describe in sordid detail, the full chronicle of events.”
“And of course, you must recount it all, in your usual poetic style.”
“My Mistress is too kind, your beauty and generosity paramount.”
“Your humble poet will attempt to compose an accurate account.”
“Good! My Mistress exclaims, and delivers a short sharp blow.
“How does that feel? Tell me everything! I have to know!”
“My bottom smarts hotly from your stinging exuberance.”
“But laying like this, I feel discomfort in my, err… protuberance.”
“I am so stiff, so sore, so hard, trapped aching for release.”
“My passion for you is so profound, my desire beyond belief.”
My Mistress displayed no emotion, no empathy, contrition or remorse.
“Oh yes,” my Mistress said, nonchalant. “We’ll get to that in due course.”
My Mistress paused briefly, I heard her strut around the bed.
She made a few more practice swings, filling me with dread.
I felt her finger trace along my leg, to the inside of my thigh.
A splash of warmth on my back door, to lubricate inside.
One finger slowly entered me, and gingerly explored,
A second finger entered me, I felt a third, perhaps a fourth.
The sensation so surprising, the pleasure so intense.
I found I moaned quite naturally with no guile or false pretence.
Gently my Mistress massaged me, her fingers stroking rhythmically.
Slowly she increased the pace and the wonderful intensity.
Something changed, perhaps her mood, my Mistress strangely cold.
Shocking. Sharp. Intense. Pain. Repeated brutally sixfold.
She whipped me on the buttocks with her fingers still inside.
The contrast between pleasure and pain was greatly amplified.
Decorum gone, I have lost control, I bounce from moans to squeals.
“Now my dear poet, my Mistress said. “Tell me how this feels.”
“Every movement is exquisite whether soft strokes or stinging blows.”
“Never have I experienced such wonderful highs and lows.”
My Mistress issues a dozen more, short sharp stinging slaps,
And then savouring the anticipation, a short lingering lapse,
Before finishing with a great finale of three more lashings of her strap.
“Good, now roll over my dear poet,” My Mistress says commandingly,
I do just as she instructs, my hardness springing free,
Although I lay dead still, my erection twitches expectantly.
***
I hear soft footfalls lead away, leaving a cold and sterile void,
I hear that tell-tale slap of plastic gloves removed,
I hear clipping and unclipping. She returns her instrument to its case.
Is this a ploy? I wonder, as I lay there furtive and paranoid,
There is no sign of her fleshy warmth, or intoxicating sweet perfume,
I cannot sense anything at all, no hint, no word, no trace.
***
I lay there for some time, eventually I shiver from the cold,
Meanwhile the heat within my loins, aches stiffly, brash and bold.
Once more I catch those subtle clues of my Mistress nearing me,
When suddenly my world tilts again, the bed tumbling violently,
My Mistress is above me once more, I’m smothered by her scent,
And her proximity radiates a musky warmth that is truly heaven sent.
My Mistress kneeling over me, passionate and proud,
“Tell me poet,” my Mistress asks, what you are feeling now?”
“I would do anything to remain between your soft and fleshy thighs,”
“Your presence so magnificent, I almost taste your heavenly prize,”
“I am overwhelmed by your perfume, your sweet and musky scent,”
“It’s so sublime it tortures me, and yet I relish the torment.”
My Mistress remained above me, taunting me as per her whim,
Savouring every moment, before indulging me with quim.
“Taste me poet,” my Mistress declared, descending towards my face,
The air humidified in harmony, with that ever-shrinking space.
She slowly lowers on to me, so delicately, and yet so bold,
And immediately my tongue darts between her slippery fleshy folds,
Her divine musky nectar was a pleasure to behold.
I hear my Mistress moaning quietly, she grinds against my tongue,
Her quim is overflowing, to sweet pleasure she succumbs.
I tease her towards the brink, but she vanishes before she comes.
***
Darkness once more, empty, lonely, sterile, cold.
My Mistress gone again, leaving the last hints of her perfume,
There is a coldness in my bones and a fire in my lap,
I lay there wondering, guessing, on what might now unfold,
But there was no hint, just a feeling of emptiness in the room,
Will my Mistress return? Perhaps revisit me with her strap?
***
I hear soft steps approaching, feel her fingers trace along my side,
Gentle caress across my stomach, bears towards erected pride.
I catch my breath, my Mistress’s fingers, circle round the base,
Then along my twitching rigid length, her lovely fingers trace.
“What would you like me to do?” Her finger circles round the tip,
“Would you like me to pleasure you?” she asks then smacks her lips.
Her warm mouth engulfs me, I’m breathless from the high,
She releases with a pop. Then pain! Teeth tearing at my thigh.
Silkily her marvellous mouth, back down my hard length,
Then biting me harshly once more, robbing my limbs of strength.
I’m paralysed by her silky strokes, that alternate with pain,
Reward and punishment blur into one, the sensation driving me insane.
“Talk to me,” my Mistress said, while gently stroking me,
But I struggled to focus on her words, her touch sheer ecstasy.
Sweet tremors tingled head to toe, my limbs paralysed, back arched,
I babbled incoherently, my mind whiring and throat parched.
***
“Hush,” my Mistress purred at last, her finger pressed to my lips,
Another finger along my hardness, the lightest, barest touch,
“Hush, as I become the poet now,” she whispered seductively,
“I promise you: no more torment, no more pain, no more whips.”
“I promise you: pure pleasure, you shall enjoy it very much,”
“Just focus on my words and let your imagination run free,”
Her touch so light, just a single finger, gently stroking me,
But combined with her saucy words, it was erotic ecstasy.
My mind found some new reality of pure wanton fantasy.
Try as I might, I can’t recall, a single word she said.
I just remember writhing in pleasure on the bed.
And then at last my Mistress, leaned in, for one final instruction,
She whispered sweetly, salaciously, a single word seduction.
“Come.”
Falling, falling, down into raw pleasure, so deeply did I sink,
Finally! That one wanton word took me past the brink,
A kaleidoscope of colour and sound as I came with a mighty spurt.
Then collapsed within a blissful heap, comatose, inert.
***
I carefully removed my blindfold, blinking painfully in the light.
My Mistress: Lady Sofia gone, vanished in the night.
Published 10th Feb 2021
Author's Note
This is a sequel to: Slaves to Erotic Poetry, previously posted on this site.
I used a variable rhyming scheme. Some parts are: ABCABC DEFDEF like an ode and other parts have a more conventional rhyme: AA BB or AAA BBB. The ode-like parts are intended to be read at a slower pace.
I used a variable rhyming scheme. Some parts are: ABCABC DEFDEF like an ode and other parts have a more conventional rhyme: AA BB or AAA BBB. The ode-like parts are intended to be read at a slower pace.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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10th Feb 2021 11:38pm
11th Feb 2021 00:39am
Heh, she is all yours mate. I’m not into that sort of thing at all. I just think it makes for an entertaining story.
I’m glad you liked it.
Cheers.
I’m glad you liked it.
Cheers.
