by Peter Loaf
The plains of Kansas, hot burning sun
Out checking cattle, later that day
Her clothing ripping, stripped to her skin
A hostage taken, a whip’s caress
Two miles to highway, taken inside
Finger fuck fiddle, cock in her throat
Two hours travel, bumpy dirt track
A collar locking, a chain attached
Taken to cellar, chained to a wall
A week of service, ten times a day
The windmill spinning, the water well .
The dust storms threaten, dry spell begun
The farmer’s daughter
Her windmill’s water
Tanker truck thieving, water war won
The tanks near empty, the cracking clay
A sound from behind
Her wrists in a bind
Ring gag and blindfold, she cannot stray
Her captor brutal, the games begin
Her nipples pinching
The wrist rope cinching
Tied to the tailgate, head in a spin
Blind tied and helpless, screaming distress
She blindly follows
Off to the gallows
The motor starting, cannot contest
Hogtied beside him, the death of pride
A taste of Sodom
Hand on her bottom
The farmer’s daughter, taken for ride
Hands bound to ankles, smells like a goat
The tires singing
The whip thongs stinging
Ass up and helpless, escape remote
Semen soaked captive, given no slack
The truck is stopping
Her bottom cropping
Her captor carries, around the back
Ass up position, vulva attacked
Her cherry popping
There is no stopping
Her screams of passion, bottom crosshatched
Pussy juice crimson, giving her all
Three men come visit
The pain exquisite
The farmer’s daughter, a thing to ball
Three man rotation, they come to play
The daughter praying
Her father paying
Ransom collected, left on display
Naked and helpless, her passion smell
Hanging and hurting
Hot urine spurting
The farmer’s daughter, her private hell
