She Was The Lightning Rod of His Great Wrath

It happened long before our cell-phone craze
Or beepers even when we lived in haze
And had to face each other when in need
For matters both financial and in deed
The businessman might have a girlfriend then
This was before our age of mawkish sin
And compensate her well for time well spent
A surrogate she was for all intent
Now see the future gynoids will be first
To slake the lecher’s horny mundane thirst
Until that day profession still remains
Financial for a culture it sustains
Now here’s a tale of girl in martial arts
Who plays a second role as Queen of Hearts

Whore she is not but escort for a man
Her services are social, understand?
One day her sugar daddy was upset
Things had all gone awry---a day of shit
He met his date to tell her it’s “no go”
No way could enjoy a sensual show
But pay he would with present very dear
It was expected as her duty clear
Then she suggested that they slake his wrath
Perhaps a rub down or a Turkish bath?
But anger, hate, and feelings hurt too much
Then she suggested more than gentle touch
They found a love motel where passions rail
She tied her hair back in a pony tail

Present she did her cheek for him to slap
She arched her back and waited for the tap
He hesitated, hold back his anger fierce
At last it flooded out from Ego pierced
He slapped her hard, she held the bed rail still
Tears filled her eyes she struggled with her will
A drop or two of urine drooled to panty moist
She turned her face the other cheek to hoist
Again and yet again his palm struck flesh
She felt herself beyond the space-time mesh
She was a lightning rod, no mortal girl
Her face was beaten badly by this churl
She counted twenty then could count no more
Her face was numb, her inner mouth was sore

She led him on by shouting “harder! More!”
“You’re pussy whipped!” she yelled with taunting roar   
Full fifteen minutes slapped this man his girl
Perhaps a hundred times his palm did whirl
And she held tight as if in martial arts
This was a battle with the Jack of Hearts
No royal king this was his whipping boy
At last exhausted beating on his toy
He cried a maximum at what he did
This act is seen--no way it can be hid
Tomorrow and for several more days
This girl would have to answer for his ways
With puzzled looks and whispered rumors crude
She answered back in tones not far from rude

12 October 2009 Taunus Trumbo