Dreamland

The ruined chateau overlooks, idyllic gardens crossed by brooks,
His dreamland, this fine old domain, surrounded by a walled terrain;
Varied wenches with whom to sin as they all attend on him,
Critical eyes and caustic smiles, servicing his venal wiles;

Faces betray frustrated need to satisfy bombastic greed;
It may be right for each to yearn for his attention, in their turn.
Wait an instant! Hold a while! Complacence fades as does his smile
Replaced by a keen consternation - and a rage (in moderation).

Expressions of relentless fire, exemplify longing desire,
His angry gaze will roam at large, seeking more than badinage.
Look: see his arms are folded tight, unaffected by the sight
Of women of every hue and flavour: who master chooses not to favour.

A lady rests on his estate, ignoring his express mandate,
Her face upturned towards the sun, her eyes closed, his writ undone;
In the pool a pale hand trails, impervious to servant's wails,
She’s released and quite content, on her personal pleasure bent.

He claps his hands in angry gesture, ordering minions to fetch her,
Watch as she shrugs off the news of his demand for interviews;
She rises graceful, lazily sways, beneath the master's angry gaze,
Indeed, a charming spectacle, her indifference unacceptable.

The lady, at his tent, arrives, he’s banished watchers from his side,
His eyes sweep over her, bemused, but she’s endured such a peruse
Before; she can turn languorous, ignore him, a smile on her lips: adore him?
Leaning close she murmurs: "I'm back, master;" – he looks terse.

“How can I entertain," she paused, "...this day? What interest can I allay?”
“And what is this I see perchance? Is there excitement in your glance?”
“While I dallied by the stream, were you quite lonely, did you dream
That by ignoring your misrule, I made you look a complete fool?”

“You’ve made your point, malevolent wench.” “Is my perfidy such a wrench?”
“It’s quite expected, guileful girl.” “I need to rest. Your social whirl,
Is driving me to such distraction” “Your languor is a main attraction.”
“That is as well, sir. I’ll dispense,” she yawned, “with any recompense.”

Yet he ensured reward instead and let her lead him to the bed,
Behind curtains, veiled from spies, their eulogies replete with sighs;
Intercourse and sweetest passion, concludes in a more discrete fashion
So none can relay, even now, who offered what to whom and how.

Speculate and overlook how she enticed him to her nook,
At last: his very own domain, the idyll of her sweet terrain.
Arms tightly held and so entwined, their synergy is well defined,
Others unfavoured and yet in need, tarry, vexed and so intrigued.