Control III

He fights them here; he fights them there
He battles them nearly everywhere ;
The lusty scribe's equipped for war
He will report them by the score ;
Where'er they be ; where'er they hide
He frowns and anger makes him slide
His hand inside my cotton knicks,
In case the lusty little pricks
Have made a base camp beneath the skirt
He's in control - on spank alert
And if they come at him again
I'll have to bend - He'll use the cane,
The quirt and whip may make me squeal,
But Sir's control will really feel
Itself once pants are off
And he is pressing somewhere tight
Knowing the spams gone - it's right
To celebrate and make such lust
Where spammers do not go - we trust

*moustique*
 
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