Mistress Lust

A glance, a stare,
The insatiable mistress lures her prey;
Petty ignorant fools.
They move slow like honey under her gleam
Uncontrollably thrusting, merging
Secretly hiding rings of vows.
Cheap champagne make for fast foreplay.
Bodies sweat, minds race.
Perhaps of a guilty conscience?
No, for they have no souls,
For the time
No control.
The mistress clashes them together like rag dolls;
Limp, uncovered.
Their evil shows beyond the flesh.
She laughs and they obey
Moving closer, closer
Rubbing, chafing against one another
Passionately, sinfully.
She makes a mockery of their play.