Music to Her Ears

The room is filled with pictures: clever women from the past
A collage of inspiration, antique images amassed
Tacitly approving with their cool, erotic poise
Ready for the mistress to elicit muffled noise
Filled with sensual confidence, encouraged by her peers,
And all their taciturn support is music to her ears

Her man has stripped to nakedness and dropped down to his knees
She relishes the chance to savor vulnerabilities
She senses fear and tension in his humble genuflect
Yet, despite his apprehension, he is hastily erect
You can almost hear a gallery of teasing women’s jeers
And every time they giggle it brings music to her ears

A speedy desperation is expected as she plays:
He’s been denied releases now for over seven days
It isn’t long before his body tenses for a purge
Her eyes, her touch, her voice, her outfit strengthening his urge;
It’s only been a week or so, to him it seems like years
And all his heartfelt begging words are music to her ears

With pent-up anguish in his loins his inhibitions flee
She gazes at a fatal weakness others never see
Interrogations start, so she can probe his thoughts and find
The fantasies that play throughout his needy, poisoned mind
She coaxes him to spill his inner deep erotic fears
And every forced confession is like music to her ears

And with his most debasing thoughts extracted from his brain
Her fingers tighten slowly round an instrument of pain
Endeavoring to make his tender flesh turn red from flogging...
Rewarding – maybe punishing? – his wicked mental blogging
She savors every tortured cry for kindness that she hears
And all his loss of reticence is music to her ears

A wooden spoon or paddle on his haunches humbly bent
It isn’t long before he begs his mistress to relent
A riding crop (now giddy-up!) or heavy leather belt:
Anything she thinks might leave a satisfying welt
Observing his reactions, she can tell the leather sears
And every scream of burning pain is music to her ears

As soon as he has broken; crumpled, sobbing and unglued
The mistress wants a humbling, entertaining interlude
She makes him masturbate himself – the visual, how naughty! –
To stroke himself until convulsions rip throughout his body
She tries to torture him enough to leak out salty tears
And all his needy agony is music to her ears

Her alternating torture: throbbing loins and stinging ass
Elicit strong approval from her mentors from the past
Her panties wet, she demands her genitals be kissed:
Some expert cunnilingus that will slake the hedonist
And, tensing up in rapturous bliss, each time a climax nears
His every moan of envy brings more music to her ears