by Peter Loaf
Crashing my Spider, hitting my head
Waking up groggy, chilly dark shed
A chain on my wrist
I shouldn’t drive pissed
Bare naked captive, lying on bed
The panic crashing, what can it mean?
The chain connected, overhead beam
The mattress musty
The bed frame rusty
A bucket waiting, my yellow stream
Tethered in middle, I walk around
No wall I’m reaching, look what I found
A cooler of beer
Some sandwiches here
Wrist in a shackle, prisoner bound
I hear a tractor, I hear it stop
Through window watching, Is this my top?
My Spider towed past
My fates forecast
Bum Fuck Kentucky, the local cop
In fear I shiver, nowhere to hide
The sheriff coming, stirring inside
His boots are clumping
My nerves are jumping
Subbie lust welling, too long denied
In doorway standing, grin on his face
“Yur car is totaled, welcome this place”
“Street cleaning sheriff”
“Paying yur tariff”
“Slave buyer bringing, your shipping case”
How many women, drop out of sight
Taken by slavers, the endless night
I cower in shame
I’m playing my game
He reaches I’m ready, end of the fight
His silent howl, his crossing knees
His pockets produce, a ring of keys
Shackle discarded
Captive departed
Sheriff fish flopping, his pain to ease
The forest empty, April the first
The new growth poking, ready to burst
Leaf mould and muddy
Better than Buddy
Naked girl running, My freedom thirst
Darkness descending, stumble and fall
Muddy night running, recapture stall
The wind brings a tell
Fire I can smell
Shiver wet body, the siren call
I wait ‘til morning, shiver and shake
I dare do nothing, no chances take
I need assistance
Covered some distance
An ancient couple, so much at stake
A distant barking, the bloodhounds bawl
I take my chances, give it my all
I walk into yard
Looking fresh tarred
“Rape I’m escaping” stagger and fall
Helped into parlor, the sheriff’s lair
Running in circles, just wasn’t fair
The sheriff sitting
An ice bag fitting
Balls big as oranges, his hungry stare
Old couple blocking, easy talking
Hammer lock gripping, to knees knocking
Ankles cuffed to hands
The cold steel demands
Slave training sessions, ring gag blocking
Three muddy people, gather in shower
The slave girl broken, within their power
The scrubbers needed
My womb well seeded
My buyer waiting, impatient glower
