Ode to a Cockteaser

How cruelly a cockmistress torments a cock,
When she strokes to the edge, but then fastens her lock...

Enticing her man with a lick of her lips
Whetting his hunger with swiveling hips
With bright-colored fingernails, glittery eyes,
And dangling earrings, he's kept mesmerized.
Provocative clothing, and sheer lingerie:
He is the mouse, and she's starting to play!
Her gyrating body engulfing his brain
Until his erection's beginning to strain
And thus the cockteaser starts plying her craft:
So hapless her prey that she inwardly laughs!

She has him undress and recline on her bed
She fastens his wrists in two cuffs overhead
Her fingernail-claws gently trace up his skin
Awakening nerves 'ere she scarcely begins!
She leans over slowly, and gives him a kiss
As if to stir hope for a not-far-off bliss
But deep in her mind, a more sinister plan
Of what she might do with this unwary man
And so the cockmistress has started to stalk
Even before she has pleasured his cock

She pulls back her mouth, and their lips are displaced
He strains, wanting more of her feminine taste
But she merely slinks, as the points of her breasts
Just barely brush skin on his muscular chest
Is she not aware of how much lust she imparts
By luring his senses toward curved body parts?
Indeed, a wry smile implies she's aware –
'Twas not accidental her bosom touched there
And so the cockteaser has expertly plied
Her craft, as his tension is building inside

His eagerness grows with her mouth near his hips,
She only suggestively purses her lips.
She blows him a kiss, with an all-knowing grin,
He's wanting it quick – but she's not giving in
She stares at his cock, and watches it twitch
Intensely aware of its terrible itch;
It's craving a squeeze, it needs to be held,
And gripped until all of the semen's expelled
Instead, the cockmistress just knowingly taunts,
Enjoying the sight of his frustrated wants

Finally she grips with her feminine palm
He moans and is filled with a rapturous calm
And as she caresses, he starts his ascent
A journey through pleasure 'til semen is spent
Yes, that's what he thinks, yet he doesn't know
She doesn't have plans to push past the plateau
Desire will grow, and he'll almost explode
But she will stop stroking before he unloads.
Behold the cockteaser, that frustrating flirt
Who'll ramp up his need, yet won't let him squirt

She nimbly caresses, she coolly excites,
She strokes and she licks and she overdelights.
Her warmth and suggestiveness stir up his seed,
With rapturous pleasure, but fast-growing need!
An ecstasy pleasure-drug, each phallic kiss,
Each stroke an assurance of impending bliss –
Yet each looming climax which quickens his pulse
Abates when she stops, just before he'll convulse!
That's how the cockmistress starts mixing her drink:
Concoctions of pleasure and games near the brink

Indeed the sensations bring pleasure at first,
Inevitably, though, he simply must burst!
Repeated engorgement brings madness, duress:
Imploring for more, while beseeching for less –
His diffident mood is dissolved by her touch
With craved carnal-pleasures advancing so much
The irony scrumptious, her plan is so cruel:
His rod, made for pleasure, now her torture-tool!
As so the cockteaser misuses his urge
For semen expulsion, and orgasmic purge

A simple, repetitive, up-and-down motion?
Or powerful, mind-bending, cauldronish potion?
Beseeching release, but when that's refused
He craves to be teased, and then tortured, abused
He'll drink golden nectar, he'll forfeit his cash,
Be smothered by pussy, or reamed up the ass
And why are such terrors abruptly alright?
Until his release, he will crave her delight.
And so the cockmistress decides he can wait,
And denies him the cure to this pliable state

How cruelly a cockteaser torments a cock,
When she strokes to the edge, but then fastens her lock...