By yourself at home

By yourself at home  
 
You are the perfect neighbour, you go to church on Sundays come what may, but inside you are a kinkster, what would the preacher say  
 
You go to work, you dress demure, all your colleagues don't have a clue, underneath this calm exterior, there's a Tigress inside of you  
 
You never dress to flirty, your skirts are never short, you are a proper lady, like the way you have been taught  
 
But sitting at your work desk, no one can read your mind, they don't know your fantasising and its the very dirty kind  
 
No-one has seen you shifting uneasy in your office chair, they can't feel your wetness, dripping through your pubic hair  
 
They can't see inside your head, see your tied up to a post, getting a beating off your master, it's the thing you love the most  
 
You really want to touch yourself, just let your wild hands roam, but there's others in the office, so you'll have to wait till you get home  
 
You could go to the restroom, but can you cum and make no sound, perhaps just a little stroke, of your needy mound  
 
Then your pulled out your dream, by the ringing of your phone, it makes you wish you could work, by yourself at home  
 
Ron