Begging

She begs me to go on with all the things
That seem to fertilise her filthy mind;
It's said that hope eternal often springs,
But I have sprung a trap, for her to find
The marks of those before her on this desk:
They clawed and scratched and pleaded, all in vain,
Since, with their bottoms marked, I have impressed
A cock deep in their centres: see, they gain
Feelings of release, as they surrender
Their mouths, their cunts and yes, their arses too,
Even if their well-spanked flesh is tender,
They know they will not move, until I'm through;
So here she is: she's splayed - look at her legs:
They wrap so tightly round me, as she begs.